24 years on, the time is right for Self Aid II

Sunday Tribune, 18 July

Bob Geldof looks like a man who dusts his hair with talcum powder. The greyness isn’t natural. He’s too young for it. He actually looks better than he did when he organised Live Aid 25 years ago. The swine.
On Tuesday, I watched him talk about 13 July, 1985 and wondered how a quarter of a century had managed to slip by. The memories of that day haven’t faded. I still remember the overwhelming feeling of pride while watching Geldof grab the world by the scruff of its neck. Paddy Irishman had come of age.
I probably spent too much time reminiscing about this last week. It was an antidote to Batt O’Keeffe’s clueless witterings about the economy. I found myself wondering what it would be like if Geldof was running the country. Or, at least, doing a Live Aid for Ireland. Then I remembered that this had been done before. It was called ‘Self Aid’. I cringed.
The Self Aid concert against unemployment took place at the RDS on 17 May, 1986. It aimed to raise cash and get firms to pledge jobs. It was well-intentioned, but flawed. How could employers pluck new jobs out of thin air?
My skin crawls when I think about it now. There was this stupid notion that we could change the world, dude. It was all so Brady Bunch: “Hey guys, why don’t we put on a show right HERE!”
What made it worse was that it came right after Live Aid. It seemed low-rent by comparison, despite the presence of U2 and Elvis Costello. The ‘Aid’ inferred the Irish were the Ethiopians of Europe.
Despite the criticism, Self Aid was the biggest event of its kind the country had ever seen. 30,000 attended and thousands more watched on TV. It was reasonably successful, raising money and morale for a few hours.
Our native cynicism hadn’t been strong enough to abort it. Cynicism didn’t have Ireland by the throat back then. People still believed it was possible to change things. That same year, Ryanair took off and revolutionised air travel. That same year Bill Cullen bravely borrowed £20m to start his business.
The people who attended Self Aid were the generation that built an economy out of nothing. They also blew it, of course, but they showed Ireland’s potential.
The Ireland of 2010, by contrast, is dangerously cynical. Cynicism is valuable when it questions a suspect premise. When it becomes cynicism for cynicism’s sake, it breeds fear and inertia. People stop suggesting solutions for fear of being ridiculed. Unbridled cynicism castrates the imagination.
Niall O’Dowd put this best in the IT last week when he wrote. ‘[America’s] positive psychology creates an energy and a drive of its own … It is time for the Irish to stop admiring the complexities of their problems and start to solve them.’
I’m going to suggest something that will leave me open to ridicule. I don’t care if it does. I believe the time has come for Self Aid II.
In 1986, there were 250,000 unemployed and 30,000 emigrating. Today there are 450,000+ unemployed and 120,000 are expected to leave by the end of 2011. Mass anger has returned, so let’s put that energy to some use.
Self Aid One was an embarrassment, but it wasn’t a bad idea. Self Aid 2011 can learn from its mistakes. For a start, nobody should expect it to change the world. There should be no naïve job pledges.
Self Aid II should be an employment-generating event itself. Not long-term jobs, just a few days’ work surrounding the concert and the subsequent trust fund. Stewards, programme-sellers, burger-flippers, secretarial staff, could be drawn from the Live Register. Somebody smarter than me can figure out how to make this happen.
The trust would give money to charities that deal with the direct results of unemployment, like Vincent de Paul and The Samaritans. Maybe it could give seed cash to young entrepreneurs.
The gig would feature acts from U2 down along the line. It would showcase the young talent that’s out there too. Bands like The Cast of Cheers and the incredibly-gifted Bipolar Empire could get their break.
Why stop there? Get the Diaspora involved. Springsteen’s mother is Irish-American. Crowded House’s Finn brothers have Irish roots and have lived in Dublin. They could do their bit.
The acts could be introduced by our army of actors and film-makers: Gleeson, Neeson, Jordan, Cillian Murphy, Colm Meany, Colin Farrell …
Imagine an ‘FU Recession’ gig like that, with no lofty ideals, just an excuse to make a few bob and have a good time. Imagine the message it would send out. “This is not Greece. This is how we protest about the mess our government has made AND we’re making money out of it.”
I’m serious about this. I’m throwing down the gauntlet to anyone who can make this happen: U2, Geldof, Harry Crosbie, whoever. Don’t bother emailing me if you have nothing positive to say about this idea. Politicians, you’re welcome to get involved too. The country needs a morale boost. This is the way to do it.
It doesn’t have to be called ‘Self Aid II’ either. Call it Self 2011. Call it Open For Business. Call it whatever you like.
Just remember: self aid beats self pity, any day.
dkenny@rtibune.ie

Heroism and inspiration shine from a grimy street

Sunday Tribune, 11 July

The couple from Limerick were spoiling for a row.
"It's you lot in the Dublin media that give Limerick a bad name."
"Us? What about the gangs?"
"You only ever print bad news about Limerick."
"Is it our fault Limerick's gangsters are exceptionally vicious? What about those toddlers who were firebombed in their car? What about Roy Collins? Should we ignore these stories just to spare your feelings?"
I knew I was getting nowhere with them, so I made a joke about Angela's Ashes and the conversation changed. This exchange took place in the southwest last weekend, but it's happened several times before, whenever someone from Limerick has heard I'm from the "Dublin media". There's a perception that we have it in for 'Stab City'. That we only ever print bad news about it.
If that's the case, then last week's papers would suggest the "Dublin media" has it in for the entire country – and not just for Limerick. There was bad news everywhere.
On Wednesday, I read a Donegal coroner's plea for a national debate on suicide. The rate has increased 25% since the recession began.
I read about murders in Dublin, heroin-dealing in Carlow and repossessions everywhere. I read that Nama's initial figures were wrong. I read that long-term unemployment is here to stay.
There was some good news, but it rang hollow. Fianna Fáil says its financial plan is working. Recovery is better than expected. It doesn't feel like it.
If the government-sponsored 'good news' was intended to inspire us, it didn't work – and we desperately need some inspiration right now. Half a million have been robbed of a living by our gangster bankers. We need to know that it is possible for the little man to fight back.
That inspiration has not come from the sources we should expect it from. Our leader, Brian Cowen, reportedly made an "inspirational" speech to his parliamentary party last week. Why couldn't he give us a similar speech?
Another leader, Michael O'Leary, is a man who could inspire us to achieve great things. Last week, he was again wasting his talent by being negative. He said he was pulling winter flights because of the tourist tax. His company is also making it difficult for ash-stranded passengers to claim back their expenses. O'Leary is one of the most creative business leaders Ireland has ever produced. Why can't he be creative on our behalf now?
Last week, I found myself wondering if this country had lost its gift for inspiration.
Then, on Thursday, that inspiration arrived unheralded and from an unlikely corner. A hero emerged from Southill in Limerick. Steve Collins is his name. He is worth 10 O'Learys and 100 Cowens.
Prime Time's 'The Collins Family' was one of the most outstanding documentaries RTE has ever produced. Steve and Carmel's son, Roy, was murdered by the McCarthy-Dundon gang because a 14-year-old girl was refused entry to his family's pub. Roy had two children. When you see his picture it feels like you know him: he has an open, humorous face. The face of a man you could have a pint with.
Despite death threats, the family fought his killers in the courts. It's difficult to fully understand the torment they are suffering. The price of courage has been a son and a €75k 'contract' on Steve's head.
"It's just lose, lose, lose, lose – it's a kick every time," says Steve. As he is speaking, a group of morons drive by and shout abuse at him.
There is one moment that sums up the pain he's enduring. He and Carmel are sitting by the Shannon. Steve talks about giving Roy's fishing gear to his friends.
"It's like every day you're giving another little bit of him away." He breaks down and the sound of those words catching in his throat is deeply affecting. Here is a tough man whose heart has been ripped open.
Carmel's moment is equally devastating, due to its understated delivery. "I often say I'd be better off down there beside Roy… Maybe if I got him cremated I could take him away with us… but I won't leave here."
Watching the Collins family disintegrate was a profoundly sad experience. That sadness was followed by anger. I'm sure I was not the only person watching to want a State hit squad to wipe out the McCarthy-Dundons. This is OUR country. Why should Steve Collins be subject to their 'laws'?
The State owes the Collins family its gratitude for standing up to evil. They have my gratitude for dissipating some of my cynicism. Steve's assertion that he would "do it all over again" shows that true heroism still exists. I hope Cowen, O'Leary and the rest of our so-called leaders watched Steve Collins's masterclass in leadership. His family are proof that it's still possible to be inspired by our country.
In Ireland, you go looking for inspiration from your leaders – and find it shining on a grimy street.
I hope the couple from Limerick are reading this. Your city may have produced the McCarthy-Dundons, but it's also home to the Collinses. While we have people like them living among us, this nation can achieve anything.

dkenny@tribune.ie

You want to be Irish? Are you right there, Mikhail...

Sunday Tribune, 4 July

Everybody loves the Irish. The Yanks love us so much they're going to snap up the government's new Certificates of Irishness when they're back from the printers.
The Israelis love us so much they're stealing our passports to murder terrorists in other countries.
Our latest admirers are the Russians. They think we're so cool they used Irish passports to set up an inept spy ring in the US. Everybody wants to be Irish these days.
With this in mind, I'd like to give you a preview of my new tome, The Little Buke of Ireland (or How to be Irish). It's to help foreigners become like us, so they can blend in when they're spying, murdering or just gawking at the Cliffs of Moher.
Firstly, to be Irish you must…

1) Refuse to accept the bleeding obvious. Recession? What recession? Brian Lenihan announced it was over, last week. This was on the same day we recorded our highest ever unemployment figures. While cynics sneered, no one pointed out those figures are wrong. Unemployment is bound to be higher than 450,000. What about those who don't get the dole? The self-employed? Or those who have been unemployed for over a year and don't qualify any more?
Maybe the recession's over for you, Brian. For the rest of us it's (lack of) business as usual.
2) Have a stupid piece of advice for all occasions. Bill Cullen should set up a factory to manufacture old rope. He's been making a fortune out of selling it for years. His latest advice to the unemployed is to work for nothing. Business legend Ben Dunne doesn't agree.
"Bull! Absolute bull! It's an insult to ask somebody to work for nothing," he told Hot Press. He's right. Even Bill was paid a penny for selling apples back in prehistory.
Maybe they should become partners in the Old Rope Factory. 'Bill and Ben' has worked before you know.
3) Be a knocker. A builder in Navan has been ordered to knock down his home as it was built without planning permission. Despite the obvious turmoil involved, it's hard to feel too sorry for him. The house is a palatial "FU" to the planning process.
Building non-compliant houses and then asking for retention was one of the slimier aspects of the boom. Hopefully this ruling will lead to more demolitions. This could finally give a positive spin to the phrase 'a nation of knockers'.
4) Be a world-beater. To be Irish you have to succeed despite the begrudgers or fail on a spectacular level. Champage corks popped at Anglo last week as it entered the Guinness Book of Records as Worst Bank in the World. Maybe Ireland should aspire to be Worst Country Ever. It could be a good marketing hook. 'You've tried the best, now try the rest. Ireland: world-leader at being crap.' I like it.
5) Take 'T' to China. 'Mr T', that is. One of the best business decisions of the past month was made by Wei Quoinhas. He's exporting Mr Tayto's crisps to 1,200 outlets in Shanghai. It's the start of the process of softening up the Chinese. Get them hooked on Tayto and they might buy into Brian Cowen's plan to make the midlands a hub for Chinese industry.
We could take it one stage further. Why not sell the whole country to China? Ireland could then become the 'Hong Kong' of the west.
Just think how much that would annoy the Brits.
6) Squeeze everything you can out of the system. Despite having the second-worst Dáil attendance record in 2009, Bertie Ahern still cost us €114,000 in secretarial fees. The Irish Times last week reported that, as a former taoiseach, he's entitled to a free secretary for life. Angry about that? I am.
Take a memo, Bertie: you're a waste of space.
7) Overvalue everything. We did it with houses and now the country's lawyers are continuing the tradition with their wages. On Wednesday, Taxing Master Charles Moran expressed his "disgust" at the costs sought by some of the country's top wigs.
He reduced a €2.143m legal bill to €393,472 and described the costs as "revolting". Isn't it time we started revolting against this privileged class of moneygrubbers?
8) Sell something that's free. Clare County Council is to sell views of the Cliffs of Moher for €6 a pop. They've been free to look at for millennia and now, because an unwanted interpretive centre is losing money, the cliffs are pay-per-view. What next? A fee to look at the sky on sunny days? 'Sky pay-per-view'. Hasn't that been done before? Why must we always treat tourists like saps?
9) Get your priorities straight. This final module in our guide sums up everything you need to know about being Irish. According to the latest figures, last year we spent €2.3bn on cigs (up 3%) and €6.5bn on booze. Despite cutbacks we spent €8.6bn partying. Compare that to what we spent on food: €7.5bn. The ultimate Irish answer to hardship is to say, "Sod dinner, I'm off to the pub."
So there you have it, Mikhail. If you want to become an Irish 'Mick', get the pints in. And when the barman shouts "Have you no home to go to?" just wink and say, "Not any more."

dkenny@tribune.ie

Green-caped crusader? More like hooded hypocrite

Sunday Tribune, 27 June

John Gormley is having an identity crisis. Last February the environment minister was a Frogman. Now he's Batman.
Gormley has approved a €60,000 survey of the rare long-eared bat. He wants to know how many there are left. One species facing extinction surveying another. Earlier this year he allotted €70,000 for a survey of frogs. What next: half a million to study red squirrels? (Watch out, Enda, he's coming looking for your nuts.)
Batman Gormley went on a crusade last week to clean up Gotham City. You could almost hear the 'Na-na, na-na, na-na, na-na – BATMAN!' tune as he announced an inquiry into the planning policies of the country's local authorities.
From a Dublin perspective, this seemed like a welcome development. The county's mountains are pimpled with ugly high-rise buildings that should never have been built. Someone is going to be held accountable for this. Finally, it's brown trouser time for the brown envelope men.
Sorry to burst your bubble, but it isn't. Batman has decided that he will only investigate six councils countrywide. It's too impractical to investigate all 34. That sounds like an admission of defeat even before his inquiry begins.
Dun Laoghaire/Rathdown County Council, which allowed the building of high rises along the mountains, isn't one of the six. Dublin City Council is the only authority in the capital that will be scrutinised. Not that that scrutiny is likely to make any difference.
On Wednesday, that council said none of the six has received details of any individual complaints being investigated or even the inquiry's terms of reference. Batman has yet to say who his "independent" investigators will be. He has also yet to announce their budget. It sounds like Batman is flapping his cape around just for show. Why? Like everything else about Gormley, this is about an illusion.
Gormley sold out his Green credentials for the illusion of power when he teamed up with Fianna Fáil. I always imagine them sniggering behind his back every time one of his plans falls on its face.
Remember how he tried to steal their thunder by announcing that there would be a direct mayoral election this summer? Is it happening this summer? No, Cowen scuppered that plan.
What about the domestic water rates? He said they would be introduced in 2012. He'll be lucky. The only people who pay for their water now are businesses. Yet last month, an Irish Independent investigation revealed that councils are not chasing defaulters. As few as 23% are paying up. It doesn't augur well for Batman's domestic water rates plan.
Batman isn't even a good politician. He nearly caused a backbench revolt by forcing his stag-hunting legislation through as the drink drive limit was being lowered. Both are seen as attacks on rural life. His stubbornness could have brought down his own government. Not that I would have a problem with that. The sooner they're gone, the better.
The Fianna Fáil backbenchers' attitude spoke volumes, by the way: 'sit quietly while billions are given to the banks and go mental when stag hunting and drinking are threatened'. Batman Gormley's planning probe is just another in a long line of Green illusions. Like the cage-rattling over Nama. Or the stag hunting. This is Gormley trying to look tough.
The reason why Batman is setting up this pointless probe is to scare local authorities in advance of his forthcoming Planning Bill. He's worried they won't implement its measures. If he can't get them to collect water rates, what hope is there of getting them to comply with his new legislation? What Gormley can't grasp is that every time he tries to grab a headline and trips up, it makes him, and the Green agenda, look ridiculous.
As the outcome of this planning inquiry is likely to be just a name-and-shame, he's going to look even more ineffectual once it's over and no heads have rolled. The money and energy Batman will waste on this planning probe could be better spent on just about anything else. Even counting the country's bats and frogs.
Gormley wants his Planning Bill to be his legacy. His real legacy, however, will be the M3 running through Tara/Skryne. In case you've forgotten, that road – which opened this month – will be tolled by a foreign company for 40 years. If it doesn't meet its projected revenue then the taxpayer will pay the toll shortfall. His party had vowed to fight it and yet he became the road's most enthusiastic supporter. He will be forever remembered as a Green hypocrite.
In October, this paper revealed that Batman took a ferry to Holyhead in 2008 to appear environmentally friendly – but had a Mercedes travel from London to collect him. He was attending a climate change event. The car cost us £2,200. After the event was over, Gormley flew home. The hypocrite. This revelation came as he was decrying the extravagance of the political expenses system. The hypocrite.
Batman wants to be seen as a clean Green fighting machine, while at the same time sleeping with the enemy. Gormley doesn't realise that he IS the enemy. He's setting up a pointless planning probe while serving with the crowd responsible for the country's disastrous property boom.
Forget stag hunting. This is just another case of Gormley running with the hare and hunting with the hounds.

I never thought I'd see a Tory PM apologise for Bloody Sunday

Sunday Tribune, 20 June

"There are soldiers in those bushes. They're probably aiming at us right now. Say nothing. Just keep walking."
I shuddered at the prospect of gunfire.
"And there's a sniper on the roof."
I looked up at RTÉ's flat roof and thought I could see the glint of sunlight on a gun barrel. I imagined tanks rolling along Nutley Lane and bombs going off in Ballsbridge.
Looking back, it's hard to believe that soldiers were stationed in Donnybrook during the 1970s. They were there to guard RTÉ against an IRA incursion. I still remember, on trips there with my journalist father, the clang of the steel doors locking the newsreaders into the studio.
The soldiers at RTÉ were a reminder that we lived on an island where violence was never too far away. There was no shortage of these reminders.
I remember my father yanking me past men handing out de Valera remembrance cards at the GPO in 1975. "IRA sympathisers," he muttered.
I remember, in 1971, a last-minute detour on the way to Laytown took us away from Talbot Street – minutes before the Dublin/Monaghan bombs went off.
I remember a letter bomb being safely detonated at the end of our road. It had been sent to a well-known Republican who was away on holidays and was being looked after by his Protestant neighbour.
There was 'Tom', our uncle's brother, who had carried his dying wife across Belfast's rooftops in the aftermath of a bombing.
Even in comfortable south Dublin, the Troubles were never far from your mind. There were times when you thought the news reports couldn't get any worse – they did. Then, in 1997, something unthinkable happened: the Good Friday Agreement was signed. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, peace set in.
Over the years, I found myself saying "I never thought I'd see the day when …" on a regular basis.
I never thought I'd see the day when the IRA would cease fire. I did.
I never thought I'd see the day they would destroy their arms and enter Stormont. I did.
I never thought I'd see the day when the SDLP would be eclipsed by Sinn Féin. I never thought I'd see the day when McGuinness and Paisley would be called 'the chuckle brothers'. I did. There have been so many 'I never thought' moments that I can't remember them all.
The north is no Disneyland, but it is transforming itself. Peace, not violence, has passed the point of no return. The former slaughterhouse now frequently surprises us with inspirational days. Days like last Tuesday.
I never thought I'd see the day when a Tory PM would apologise for Bloody Sunday. Its whitewash was proof of how much the establishment detested the Irish.
When David Cameron apologised, I felt the same swell of emotion I had when the Guildford Four were released. I sensed history closing one door and opening another. There was the feeling that this might be the North's last 'I never I thought I'd see the day' moment. What other spectacular announcements are left to be made now?
This felt like it might mark the end of the Peace Process. Some date will have to mark the moment that peace was finally achieved. Was Tuesday 15 June 2010 that day?
This apology shows that lasting peace may now be possible between nationalism and the establishment. It has also ensured that a united Ireland is now further away than ever before.
When the crowds in Derry applauded Cameron, they showed how much Northern Ireland is becoming normalised. Derry 2010 is vastly different to Derry 1972. It's bidding to become a UK City of Culture – a sign of its new-found self-confidence and sense of place.
One of the dividends of normalisation has been a growing Catholic middle class, thriving in new-found stability. The south, on the other hand, is now the unstable part of this island. We once saw the North in its death throes. It now sees us struggling to survive. It sees record levels of house repossessions. On Monday there were 75 cases before the High Court. It sees record levels of unemployment. Last month it rose to 13.7%. It's 6.9% up North. Even with a Tory government in place and spending cuts on the way, Northern Catholics are better off staying within the UK.
One of the gambles republicanism took when it disarmed was not whether it would be able to sell its new strategy to its grass roots. It was whether it would be able to sell a united Ireland to the affluent new middle class.
The added measure of normalisation that Saville has brought has made this more difficult. It's no longer a foregone conclusion that nationalists would vote to cede from the UK. Republicanism now has to make a united Ireland attractive.
Dissidents will try to turn the clock back, but they won't succeed. It would take another Bloody Sunday for that to happen. Tuesday proved there will be no more Bloody Sundays.
A united Ireland slipped further away last week. We can just hope we never see a day when the greater Republican movement tries to force its arrival again.
We can just hope we never see a day when soldiers are back hiding in the bushes of Dublin 4.

dkenny@tribune.ie

June 20, 2010

Let big-mouth Leo talk himself out of a ministerial job

Sunday Tribune, 13 June

Leo Varadkar's nephew is my godson.
I just want to get that out of the way before someone discovers it and tries to suggest that I'm a secret Leo supporter. Nothing could be further from the truth. I would never vote for Leo. I am not a fan.
That said, I want to make it clear that I'm talking about Public Leo. He comes from a lovely family and I hope they understand the following is just business.
Last week, Leo was back stirring the pot and annoying potential allies. During a Private Members' Bill debate, he tried to pick a fight with Labour – now the state's most popular party. He said they were ideologically closer to Fianna Fáil on government spending than Fine Gael were.
I wonder if Leo would sign my copy of How to Win Friends and Influence People. I'd make a fortune on eBay with it.
On Tuesday, Leo the Lion got a mauling from Olivia O'Leary in her Drivetime column. She started by calling him "a really smart 10-year-old: bumptious, unsquashable and really delighted with himself – and confident that everyone else will be too." This was going to hurt.
O'Leary said that when right-wing Leo starts "throwing ideological stones", political problems arise. Enda needs to rein him in if Fine Gael are to successfully woo Labour.
Ask anybody in Labour, she said, which Fine Gaeler gets up their nose most and they will say US Republican-wannabe Leo (followed by John Deasy and Lucinda Creighton). Come the day of reckoning, with Labour and Fine Gael frontbenchers jostling for portfolios, Leo the Lion may have to lie down with the lambs in the backbenches.
Leo knows Labour can't stand him. So did he heed O'Leary's sound advice and exercise some diplomacy? Of course not. He did what any bumptious 10-year-old would do: he posted a comment on social networking site, Twitter. "Someone send Olivia O'Leary a Labour Party membership application. She's let the mask slip once again." You could almost hear him stamping his foot.
Leo's use of Twitter may mirror his political personality. As of noon last Friday, he had 762 followers on the social networking site. He only follows 12 people himself (his apostles?). Leo leads, you follow.
Since joining in February, Leo has not tweeted directly to any of his followers. Leo talks, you listen.
We know his views on just about everything. Over the past few weeks he's been popping up everywhere from right-on Hot Press to on-right the Sunday Independent Life magazine.
We know that Leo is an ideologue. "I would be free-market centre right," he told the Sunday Independent, adding that Bismarck was his hero.
We know that Leo doesn't do clinics. He sees them as a waste of time. "Lots of people don't understand what the role of a politician is." I think you'll find they might, Leo.
We know where he stands on immigrants. Olivia O'Leary mentioned that Leo once suggested that unemployed immigrants be paid to go home. That was actually a cheap shot. Leo wasn't calling for deportation. The EU backs that plan: it has granted Ireland €600,000 from its Return Fund to help hard-up immigrants go home.
We know where Leo stands on drugs. He admitted to Hot Press that he has smoked cannabis. Whether this is really an 'admission' in politics any more is doubtful. Some might see it as a way of "getting down with the kids". As the political equivalent of wearing your baseball cap sideways. It's at odds with his assertion in the Sunday Independent that he's "always been 30".
We know where Leo stands on abortion. He told the Sunday Independent he's against it. He says he's not religious but would "accept a lot of Catholic social thinking". He didn't mention contraception, homosexuality or divorce though.
Leo said he was not in favour of legalising abortions for victims of rape.
Stop there.
What if the woman had been raped by her father, like Barbara Naughton was, from the age of nine until she was 18? Would he have denied Barbara the right to abort? Barbara has called his comments "ludicrous".
In 1992, the Supreme Court ruled a woman had a right to an abortion if there was "a real and substantial risk" to her life. What if that risk was from the victim herself? Should she not be protected from suicide? Leo believes this would lead to abortion on demand. The next step, he says, would be aborting babies with disabilities. Where does he think he's living? Nazi Germany? Does he really think we'd start aborting disabled babies?
You could dismiss Leo as just another US Republican-wannabe, if there wasn't a chance he might some day be a minister. Do we want another minister with right-wing Catholic beliefs? Remember how Bertie Ahern enabled the church to cap compensation for abuse victims?
O'Leary said in her column that when there's a coalition on the horizon "a smart politician plays down ideological differences. Leo, however, can't stop waving the ideology flag". Maybe Leo thinks he's smarter than he actually is. I hope so. I hope he keeps annoying Labour – so we won't have to suffer him as a minister. I hope he keeps roaring like a lion king – and never gets within an ass's roar of the throne.

dkenny@tribune.ie

June 13, 2010

Callely and the senators have become the untouchables

Sunday Tribune, 6 June

"Points of order, when there's disorder, are out of order." As gobbledegook statements go, Ceann Comhairle Seamus Kirk's utterance was up there with the best of them.
The leader of the Dáil was frantically trying to calm down an unruly opposition who were revolting over what Enda Kenny called a government "whitewash".
The coalition had decided there would be a limited sitting this week, without votes or Leaders Questions. There would be no discussion of the forthcoming bank reports. Coincidence? Kenny and Eamon Gilmore didn't think so. Kenny said he "wouldn't stand for it" and sat down. Comrade Gilmore spoke of a "one-party state".
Captain Kirk fought desperately to save his Cling-ons and beamed Bernard Durkan (FG) out of the chamber. His expulsion reminded me of that old Johnny McEvoy song, 'Mursheen Durkin': "Goodbye Bernard Durkan/shure we're sick and tired of workin'".
This was democracy in action, Irish-style.
A toothless Dáil will now resume at 2.30pm on Wednesday. The Seanad isn't sitting at all – not that anyone would notice.
This enforced Seanad mid-mid-mid-midterm break will have caused one particular senator some serious consternation. Ivor Callely now has to wait two weeks for the next stage of the inquiry into his €81,000 expenses claim. Clontarf-based Callely, in case you haven't been paying attention, has been claiming travel and accommodation expenses to and from his Cork holiday home. Callers to Liveline, however, have pointed out that he's regularly seen jogging around Clontarf. Perhaps he jogged from Cork?
Or sailed up? Last year, a kimono-clad Callely was interviewed by gardaí after an embarrassing yachting accident.
Callely blames the Oireachtas for his €81k bill. He should have the right to give the Oireachtas two residential addresses. It's all very Pee Flynn. Doesn't anybody know how hard it is to run two homes, a constituency office and a yacht?
Kimono Callely is in deep water but, potentially, he's not alone. On Friday it emerged that senator Larry Butler has been claiming accommodation and travel expenses from Kilkenny. His official residence is Foxrock. Is there a pattern emerging here? Callely has again highlighted a system that says it wants to reform itself, but can't.
It's like giving a glutton a job in a sweet factory and expecting him not to gorge.
While the new attendance/expenses checks are to be welcomed because they show up spongers, they're powerless to do anything about them. People like Callely don't care what we think of them, so long as they get paid. They won't reform their mindsets. What kind of a brain thinks it's acceptable to claim €81k in travel expenses from a holiday home? That money would maintain eight people on the dole for a year. Even though he's unelected, Ivor is untouchable. Under the constitution, a senator can only be removed by disqualification or feet first. It's up to them to resign in a scandal.
In England, on the other hand, the Lib Dems have promised legislation to sack MPs guilty of serious misconduct. It's hard to see Irish politicians voting for legislation like that. They're hardwired to ride out scandals and wait for public opinion to move on.
For example, last week Mary Hanafin tut-tutted about Callely's lack of transparency. However, she still refuses to give up her old teaching job with its pension entitlements. How many of us had forgotten about that?
Callely will hope, as the inquiry drags on, that we will forget about him. Just as we may have forgotten about the debate to abolish the Seanad. It's now been nine months since Enda Kenny said he wanted rid of it. The Seanad weathered that storm and is still sheltering Callely's ilk.
Fianna Fáil rushed to say they would be taking the whip from Callely on Thursday. Spare us the righteous indignation. He's one of yours. You put him in the Seanad when we booted him out of the Dáil. You shouldn't have given him state expenses. But then, Fianna Fáil always rehabilitates its villains. Look at Beverley Flynn.
The Callely 'censure' was just a sideshow to distract from Fianna Fáil's gagging of the Dáil in the week the bank reports arrived. That 'gag' was yet another affront to democracy. We're also still waiting for the three outstanding by-elections to be held by an unelected taoiseach.
Ireland is crying out for radical reform of the political system. Now that Callely has put the spotlight back on the Seanad, the government should use the opportunity to finally reform it. To show some symbolic regard for democracy. The mandate is there. In 1979, we passed a referendum to widen the Seanad's representation and open voting to all our universities. It's not universal suffrage, but it's a step in the right direction. Thirty years on and the will of the people has still not been acted upon. An undemocratic institution has been propped up by the suppression of democracy. Fianna Fáil must now give us, at least, the limited Seanad reform we asked for – or move to abolish it. Without reform, all the accountability procedures in the world won't make the Seanad value for money. It will still be a doss house for political hacks like Kimono Callely.
Callely once said that "if people are known to be abusing the system… be tough and throw them out". Hopefully, they will prove to be prophetic words.

dkenny@tribune.ie

June 6, 2010