Jennifer O'Connell: For some people, home is the most dangerous place of all

“Hope you’re well.” Every email used to begin like that, a throwaway greeting from the time before coronavirus. There was an implicit understanding that we didn’t really want to hear about each other’s gluten intolerance or blood pressure readings.

Now we do actually want to know how they are, the words seem entirely inadequate. We sign off instead with “stay safe”, or the less twee “stay sane”, sending the words out from our kitchen tables or our spare rooms, knowing that at least we’re all safe at home. #StaySafeStayHome the hashtags instruct us, and we obey.

For some people though, home is the most dangerous place of all.

Organisations like Women's Aid and Safe Ireland have been warning since the beginning that this crisis could lead to another, less visible, but no less devastating, one; a crisis of domestic abuse.

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The alarm bells sounded in China first, where domestic violence has only been a crime since a landmark law in 2016. In Jingzhou, a city in the central Hubei province, incidents of domestic abuse doubled following the lockdown, reports suggested. Similar increases have been reported since in Italy, Germany, Brazil. In France, domestic abuse incidents rose by 36 per cent, while calls to helplines fell away because, as Secretary of State for Gender Equality Marlène Schiappa said, "it's difficult to call when you're locked up with the abuser".

In this climate, who could possibly spot what's happening in the house up the street?

The French government responded by increasing funding to aid organisations and putting plans in place to pay for up to 20,000 hotel nights for victims of abuse. Women who needed help could go into a pharmacy ask for a “mask 19”, their safe word.

All of the colliding pressure fronts we’re facing – isolation; the climate of anxiety and fear; financial strain, and increased alcohol consumption – have created a perfect storm for abuse to flourish.

Another factor that is perhaps forgotten as turmoil envelopes us is that hard men thrive in times of upheaval. This is why tyrants and dictators seek out conflict with other countries. Bullies love chaos.

Unsurprisingly, this has been a good pandemic for some of the world's hard men. Viktor Orbán in Hungary, who has used the pandemic as a power grab. Xi Jinping, whose Communist party is expected to be strengthened by coronavirus. Trump, whose approval ratings are at an all-time high.

The smaller-scale hard men who lurk closer to home aren’t always so easy to recognise. The one in my neighbourhood a few years ago just seemed unusually attentive. I’d see him and his partner often outside my window, always together, always hand-in-hand, dog trotting beside them.

I thought it was sweet, until the evening she tried to run away.

She ended up on the green space near my house, where she sat, gasping on the verge. I heard the sobs over the news and went out. She didn’t want me to call the police or anyone else, she said. She wouldn’t come back to my house. She was fine, it was just a fall, a small fall after he pushed her. The hard man appeared in his car and drove around us in circles until eventually she gave up and limped over to him. Afterwards, I only ever saw them together. She put her head down when I tried to catch her eye.

It’s worth pointing out, too, that I’ve come across some hard women, and the damage they do is every bit as shattering.

Just like fascism doesn’t come sweeping into stable democracies, people don’t willingly invite tyrants into their lives. The tyrants inveigle their way in by degrees. They come disguised as something else. They push the boundaries of what their partners consider acceptable behaviour, gently at first and later more forcefully, until eventually the boundaries come down. They block off escape routes and silence critics. They bully. They undermine. They withhold food and money. The victims aren’t always their partner. Sometimes, it’s a child or a parent.

Like nations do in times of crisis, we’ve all become more inward-looking. Our front doors are shut. We’re staying in. And in this climate, who could possibly spot what’s happening in the house up the street? If someone missed their usual walk with the dog, who would notice? There are no creches or schools to be alarmed if a child turns up hungry or showing signs of abuse. Or if the child doesn’t turn up at all. No rural publicans to become concerned if a vulnerable older person doesn’t arrive for their lunchtime pint.

We need our own 'mask 19' – a safe word, and safe places for the people who use it to go

The escape routes are closing down, supports are receding. Twenty one women’s refuges here are now full, it was reported last week. Safe Ireland said that in some cases, victims and their children may have to be moved into AirBnB accommodation to allow for social distancing, though it wasn’t clear how this could be funded.

The gardaí have launched a robust response in the form of Operation Faoisimh. They force plans to proactively contact every victim who has previously been in touch. Representatives said there was no evidence yet of a significant increase in incidents of abuse, and that it was too early to identify trends. But that doesn’t mean the abuse isn’t happening. It’s difficult for the gardaí to help people who aren’t in a position to pick up the phone and ask for it.

We need our own “mask 19” – a safe word, and safe places for the people who use it to go.

#StaySafeStayHome, the hashtag says. But don’t forget those for whom there’s no safety at home.

Women’s Aid’s 24hr National Freephone Helpline is 1800 341900. The new dedicated text line for the hard of hearing is 087 959 7980