Sunday Tribune, 7 March
I have a battered old biscuit tin in the attic. It contains tokens of my past: little pebbles that make up a shifting bank of memory. I took it down the other day and sifted through it.
There was a bead from a long-forgotten teenage girlfriend's bracelet, once-significant ticket stubs, a souvenir from the Isle of Man and a lighter from Ayia Napa. Letters, cards and negatives were neatly bundled under the Crawford's Assorted lid. There were also two grubby rosettes: white and red. The medallion is missing from the first, but the confirmation rosette still bears its depiction of the Holy Spirit descending.
There is a picture, too, of my class from the Harold, Glasthule, posing in our confirmation gear. It is 1978 and I am wearing a corduroy safari jacket, brown trousers and a polo neck. I look 100% nerd. We all do: with our rosettes, we're like a herd of prize-winning prats. The innocent expressions point to our childishness: the jackets and rosettes point ahead to adulthood. It is a watershed picture.
That same year, another boy my age was probably also looking goofy in his confirmation gear in Wexford. Colm O'Gorman's journey from confirmation to adulthood couldn't have been more different to my own. He suffered appalling clerical sexual abuse in his teens.
Last week, he reacted to the suggestion by Bishop of Ferns, Denis Brennan, that parishioners might help pay the diocese's €1.2m debts accrued while fighting abuse victims. O'Gorman says when he began proceedings in 1998, it was against the church, not the parishioners. His calm response was at odds with the prevailing anger. All week, I seethed with rage when I thought of Brennan's 'suggestion'.
O'Gorman has an article on his website about the death of his Catholicism. It struck a chord. His early memories are comforting ones. Many will remember flickering Sacred Hearts and prayers to ward off evil. Or looking over your shoulder for a guardian angel with superhero powers. Or asking silly questions like "did Baby Jesus get Easter eggs?"
As a youngster, I had unshakeable faith in the church and uncomplainingly endured the boring bits like Mass and the horrors of confession.
For a month, my pathetic sins would stack up like missals on a pew, before being scattered by a couple of Hail Marys. I would walk home clouded in sanctity. Then thoughts about the girl down the road would steal back in…
Watching the church's own slow confession over the years has been like watching an onion being peeled layer by layer. It ended in tears – of anger – as my Catholicism died. As the lies made a mockery of the trembling prayers and incantations whispered sotto voce.
There is a palpable feeling of emptiness when you lose the church. When you realise the spiritual crutch is gone and you want the moral guardian of your childhood forced to its knees.
There's no joy in typing those words and they are not cathartic. They go against a pre-conditioned emotional grain. Losing faith is, arguably, worse than never having it.
According to the 2006 Census, 86% of us are Catholic. The figure doesn't reflect the à la carte nature of that Catholicism. After Brennan's crass suggestion, many will find even an arm's-length association with Catholicism too close.
How many times will we have to hear the church say sorry before it's genuinely sorry? How can it apologise and then suggest someone else shares the tab for its crimes? All we hear is the meaningless mantra of "we must forgive, share the pain, reflect…" The Beatitudes have been replaced by platitudes.
It's not truly sorry, because the whey-faced, pompous old men, in their silly hats, are still too far removed from hardship to understand it.
Bishop Brennan's abuse tax suggestion is appalling. The parishioners of Ferns must not pay it. There was national anger before Christmas when friends of a convicted Listowel sex attacker queued to shake his hand in front of his victim. Putting money in the abuse tax basket will have the same effect on the victims of Ferns.
There is another way Brennan can generate money. Every June, the church sends a tribute to Rome. This collection is called Peter's Pence and is used for "the material needs of poor dioceses… etc". In 2008, Peter's Pence raised €50m worldwide and Ireland was the sixth biggest contributor.
Ferns could declare itself a "poor diocese" and ask for Peter's Pence to pay its legal bills. The price of asking would be utter humiliation. Humility is something the Irish church badly needs.
Any argument that this would create a precedent can be ignored. It should create a precedent and Pope Benedict should be happy to pay up.
I still wear a cross, not out of loyalty to Rome but as a symbol of the Christian philosophy I try to live by. It's also a reminder of the Catholic faith I now keep in a biscuit tin.
Rome knew of the sex abuse claims in Ferns and did nothing about them. It stole the faith of a generation. We're in Lent, the season of sacrifice, Bishop Brennan. Let Rome sacrifice its tribute money this year. For all the pain it has caused, ask it to turn Peter's Pence into Peter's Penance.
dkenny@tribune.ie
Friday, March 12, 2010
Friday, March 5, 2010
Going back on the Wanderly Wagon to forget all our troubles
Sunday Tribune, 28 February 2010
The following is a Wanderly Wagon story that may shock fans of Mr Crow. (Close your eyes… now.)
In 1979, a friend sneaked off on an unofficial tour of RTE's studios while waiting to record a TV show. After inspecting Bunny Carr's Quicksilver set (and Norman's organ), Jimmy Smyth found himself standing in the shadow of the iconic wagon. Being a fan, he climbed inside to discover, to his disappointment, that it was just a shell. There was nothing inside but bare wood.
Jimmy also made another discovery that rattled his childhood memories. Just below the hatch someone had written – in thick, black letters – the revelatory sentence: 'Mr Crow is a W***er'. I sometimes lie awake wondering what went through the puppeteer's mind as he stuck his hand up Crow's backside, with 'Mr Crow is a W***er' staring him in the face. Thank you, Jimmy, for that charming story.
(Open your eyes... now.) I have my own memory of Wanderly Wagon. On a trip to Montrose with my father, I also discovered that the wagon was just a prop. I was nine and still remember that day. It was like losing a friend.
Last Wednesday, I had the same sad feeling when I heard that Eugene Lambert had died. Most Irish people between the ages of 35 to 50 felt the same way.
Wanderly Wagon was a 'bookmark' in our childhood. Lambert's death briefly stopped the clock and brought a rare, unconscious moment of national unity. The country's grown-ups stopped squabbling and ran splashing into a sea of nostalgia. There was a collective sigh as the wagon carried us to an age of talking crows and witches.
For a short while, the utter crapulosity of life in 2010 was forgotten and memories were traded. Remember the magic handle, which you turned to get your 'dearest wish'? Or Foxy, who lived in a barrel? Or the Moon Mice and Sneaky Sssssnake? And Rory with his fringed cowboy jacket and cravat (now there's mixed signals).
Mortgages, Trevor Sargent and Willie O'Dea were briefly shunted aside by a brightly coloured caravan from the 1970s. We recalled a time when our only responsibility was to be children.
It brought back memories to me of being driven to Laytown for the summer, with the dog on my mother's lap and the cat hissing like a slow puncture in the basket beneath my feet. Three children squashed into the back of a Triumph Dolomite roaring 'Here comes the Wagon, the WANDERLY, WAAAANNDERLY WAGGGGON!!!' and me wanting to go for a pee. I remember running in and wrestling with the rabbit's ears before settling down to watch Judge and O'Brien through a swarm of black and white interference bees.
Wanderly Wagon didn't challenge and it wasn't educational or scrupulously politically correct – it was just fun. It made you laugh while the strikes and violence of the '70s raged outside.
It was thoroughly Irish and was wedded to the landscape. In a child's eyes there were Wanderly Wagons in every Travellers' field and every bearded, ragged tramp was Fortycoats.
On Wednesday, it felt as if O'Brien was giving us a hug from the past. It was hard to resist him. The small details kept coming. I remembered soggy, sandy tomato sandwiches and TK lemonade on a windy beach. Dripping ice cream sandwiches, sherbert fountains and Gollywog sweets. Tokens for Texaco's 'signed' Liam Brady footballs, marbles, kick-the-can and scraped knees. Hand-me-downs and swap shops, sardines on toast and oxtail soup in metal bowls. Smog and candy cigarettes.
There was the childish belief that everything was possible. If a caravan could fly, what couldn't be achieved?
Fast forward to 2010. What has been achieved? We're where our parents used to be. We're the adults now. Judge's Safe Cross Code boy grew up to be Fianna Fáil TD, Chris Andrews. We grew up into a world as chaotic as any Wanderly Wagon plotline.
We have national disunity, huge unemployment and crushing debt. We gave the banks Nama and they've given us increased rates on personal loans. We have a political system in turmoil and there's been a return to '70s-style violence in the north.
Family life has changed. According to the ESRI, more married couples are breaking up after the birth of their first child. More are deferring having children.
These are some of the reasons why many of us felt grateful for the respite Lambert gave us last week.
With all the cynicism about, it's easy to forget that this country can produce inspiring, unsung heroes like Lambert. It's good to be reminded of that. He was a man who entertained children just for the love of it. He was the mad uncle who babysat us while our parents fought a recession. Our generation wasn't the 'Pope's Children', we were 'O'Brien's Children'.
Dublin is festooned with statues to patriots who mean less to us than Lambert. Luke Kelly has a bridge and Philo has a statue – Lambert deserves, at least, a park named after him. Somewhere we can sit and remember our childhood.
Somewhere we can hitch a lift from adulthood on the memory of a gawdy caravan, with a crow and a Godmother.
Somewhere we can sit with a huge man, with a huge heart and a cloth dog in his arms.
Thanks for the memories, Eugene.
dkenny@tribune
February 28, 2010
The following is a Wanderly Wagon story that may shock fans of Mr Crow. (Close your eyes… now.)
In 1979, a friend sneaked off on an unofficial tour of RTE's studios while waiting to record a TV show. After inspecting Bunny Carr's Quicksilver set (and Norman's organ), Jimmy Smyth found himself standing in the shadow of the iconic wagon. Being a fan, he climbed inside to discover, to his disappointment, that it was just a shell. There was nothing inside but bare wood.
Jimmy also made another discovery that rattled his childhood memories. Just below the hatch someone had written – in thick, black letters – the revelatory sentence: 'Mr Crow is a W***er'. I sometimes lie awake wondering what went through the puppeteer's mind as he stuck his hand up Crow's backside, with 'Mr Crow is a W***er' staring him in the face. Thank you, Jimmy, for that charming story.
(Open your eyes... now.) I have my own memory of Wanderly Wagon. On a trip to Montrose with my father, I also discovered that the wagon was just a prop. I was nine and still remember that day. It was like losing a friend.
Last Wednesday, I had the same sad feeling when I heard that Eugene Lambert had died. Most Irish people between the ages of 35 to 50 felt the same way.
Wanderly Wagon was a 'bookmark' in our childhood. Lambert's death briefly stopped the clock and brought a rare, unconscious moment of national unity. The country's grown-ups stopped squabbling and ran splashing into a sea of nostalgia. There was a collective sigh as the wagon carried us to an age of talking crows and witches.
For a short while, the utter crapulosity of life in 2010 was forgotten and memories were traded. Remember the magic handle, which you turned to get your 'dearest wish'? Or Foxy, who lived in a barrel? Or the Moon Mice and Sneaky Sssssnake? And Rory with his fringed cowboy jacket and cravat (now there's mixed signals).
Mortgages, Trevor Sargent and Willie O'Dea were briefly shunted aside by a brightly coloured caravan from the 1970s. We recalled a time when our only responsibility was to be children.
It brought back memories to me of being driven to Laytown for the summer, with the dog on my mother's lap and the cat hissing like a slow puncture in the basket beneath my feet. Three children squashed into the back of a Triumph Dolomite roaring 'Here comes the Wagon, the WANDERLY, WAAAANNDERLY WAGGGGON!!!' and me wanting to go for a pee. I remember running in and wrestling with the rabbit's ears before settling down to watch Judge and O'Brien through a swarm of black and white interference bees.
Wanderly Wagon didn't challenge and it wasn't educational or scrupulously politically correct – it was just fun. It made you laugh while the strikes and violence of the '70s raged outside.
It was thoroughly Irish and was wedded to the landscape. In a child's eyes there were Wanderly Wagons in every Travellers' field and every bearded, ragged tramp was Fortycoats.
On Wednesday, it felt as if O'Brien was giving us a hug from the past. It was hard to resist him. The small details kept coming. I remembered soggy, sandy tomato sandwiches and TK lemonade on a windy beach. Dripping ice cream sandwiches, sherbert fountains and Gollywog sweets. Tokens for Texaco's 'signed' Liam Brady footballs, marbles, kick-the-can and scraped knees. Hand-me-downs and swap shops, sardines on toast and oxtail soup in metal bowls. Smog and candy cigarettes.
There was the childish belief that everything was possible. If a caravan could fly, what couldn't be achieved?
Fast forward to 2010. What has been achieved? We're where our parents used to be. We're the adults now. Judge's Safe Cross Code boy grew up to be Fianna Fáil TD, Chris Andrews. We grew up into a world as chaotic as any Wanderly Wagon plotline.
We have national disunity, huge unemployment and crushing debt. We gave the banks Nama and they've given us increased rates on personal loans. We have a political system in turmoil and there's been a return to '70s-style violence in the north.
Family life has changed. According to the ESRI, more married couples are breaking up after the birth of their first child. More are deferring having children.
These are some of the reasons why many of us felt grateful for the respite Lambert gave us last week.
With all the cynicism about, it's easy to forget that this country can produce inspiring, unsung heroes like Lambert. It's good to be reminded of that. He was a man who entertained children just for the love of it. He was the mad uncle who babysat us while our parents fought a recession. Our generation wasn't the 'Pope's Children', we were 'O'Brien's Children'.
Dublin is festooned with statues to patriots who mean less to us than Lambert. Luke Kelly has a bridge and Philo has a statue – Lambert deserves, at least, a park named after him. Somewhere we can sit and remember our childhood.
Somewhere we can hitch a lift from adulthood on the memory of a gawdy caravan, with a crow and a Godmother.
Somewhere we can sit with a huge man, with a huge heart and a cloth dog in his arms.
Thanks for the memories, Eugene.
dkenny@tribune
February 28, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
O'Leary should land 300 jobs; Coughlan should take off
Sunday Tribune 21 February
There is an old schoolyard game called 'One, Two, Three O'Leary' you may have played as a child. It involves shouting out numbers and bouncing a ball between your legs. The rules, as with most childish pursuits, are arbitrary.
'Childish' and 'arbitrary' are good ways to describe the antics of another game-playing O'Leary. Last week, the Ryanair chief stood in the centre of the national schoolyard roaring about numbers and hopping the ball. The object of his bullying was Head Girl, 'Mary, Mary Quite Contrary' Coughlan. The pair spent the week brawling over a hangar at Dublin Airport. It took Williegate to dislodge them as lead story in the news. (By the way, if O'Dea is done for perjury, I'm starting the 'Free Willie' campaign. The logo will be a gun-toting whale with a moustache.)
O'Leary says he will create 300 engineering jobs at Dublin Airport. There are conditions, though. He won't talk to the DAA and he wants Hangar Six, which is leased to Aer Lingus. He contacted Coughlan to secure it for him, which she "failed" to do. The stupid girl.
The protagonists actually have quite a bit in common. Both are foul-mouthed and stubborn. Both are headline grabbers: O'Leary for putting his boot into the government; Coughlan for putting her boot in her mouth. She was the obvious choice for Villain of the Piece, 'cocking up yet again'.
In Leinster House, the opposition did more knee-jerking than a Riverdance chorus line. They howled at Brian Cowen to tear up Aer Lingus's lease. It was all just political hay-making, with insults tossed around the house by the country's best-paid tossers.
This was never a simple equation of 'Hangar Six minus Aer Lingus = 300 Ryanair jobs'. Aer Lingus's lease stated they could only be moved on the grounds of 'aircraft operation' or 'airport development' – not to make way for another tenant. Hangar Six is the only one capable of accommodating more than one of their wide-body Airbus A330 aircraft. They were staying put.
Coughlan offered O'Leary alternatives: Hangars One and Two or a newly-built premises. Sites at Shannon and Knock were also available. Like Andy, the churlish Little Britain character, he huffed, "I want that one", pointing at Hangar Six.
So why does he want Hangar Six so badly, given that he doesn't have any wide-body aircraft? He says he wants to move his HQ there. The suspicion, however, is that he wants to use it as a terminal. On Thursday, he produced a letter giving 'guarantees' to the IDA which he hoped would dispel this suspicion. It didn't. O'Leary knows that if he ever hopes to open Hangar Six as a terminal, then he must acquire it first. 'Guarantees' can be dealt with later.
Coughlan is an easy target for his criticism. Last week, Senator Eoghan Harris attacked O'Leary for demeaning the office of enterprise minister. In truth, Mary has done a fine job of demeaning it herself. Her handling of the Fás fiasco still beggars belief. We don't need O'Leary to tell us she is useless at her job – we already know it. The former Dell and Waterford workers know it. Cadbury's workers may know it soon too.
However, O'Leary's attack backfired as the week progressed. It became obvious he was playing a media game with her. Coughlan, he said, had "tragically" lost the 300 jobs. Why? Because he was asking for something he knew she couldn't give. He pined for the days when Haughey was running the country. Why? So he could avail of the services of a crook?
Lurking at the back of all this is O'Leary's penchant for score-settling. He's still seething over the government's €10 airport tax. It infuriates him that it's less money spent on his bagged alcohol or scratch cards.
If there is any lingering doubt that this is at the core of his manufactured row with Coughlan, then look at Ryanair's website. On 5 February, it announced it will be reducing its Shannon jobs from over 300 to less than 200 because of the tax. At the end of the statement it says, "these cuts would be immediately reversed if the €10.00 Visitor Tax is scrapped". Does that sound like he's holding hundreds of families hostage? O'Leary sees his employees and the unemployed merely as pawns. He's never experienced the soul-sapping desperation of being on the dole. To give jobless people hope and then take it away is cruel beyond comprehension. Whether those jobs materialise or not, he's dragged hundreds of vulnerable families through the ringer.
The bottom line is that he has 300 jobs in his gift. If he really cares about bringing employment to Dublin, then he should shut up, take what's on offer and create them.
Cowen, meanwhile, should start taking a Ryanair approach to his cabinet and stop placing loyalty above ability. Coughlan wouldn't be employed at corporate level in Ryanair. The Hangar Six affair may not have been of her making, but there are plenty of other reasons for hoofing her out of the enterprise ministry.
She has allowed O'Leary to play her like a ball in a schoolyard game. O'Leary should do the nation a favour and stop hopping the ball. It's One or Two, O'Leary… Hangar Six is out of the question. Now create those jobs or hop it.
dkenny@tribune.ie
February 21, 2010
There is an old schoolyard game called 'One, Two, Three O'Leary' you may have played as a child. It involves shouting out numbers and bouncing a ball between your legs. The rules, as with most childish pursuits, are arbitrary.
'Childish' and 'arbitrary' are good ways to describe the antics of another game-playing O'Leary. Last week, the Ryanair chief stood in the centre of the national schoolyard roaring about numbers and hopping the ball. The object of his bullying was Head Girl, 'Mary, Mary Quite Contrary' Coughlan. The pair spent the week brawling over a hangar at Dublin Airport. It took Williegate to dislodge them as lead story in the news. (By the way, if O'Dea is done for perjury, I'm starting the 'Free Willie' campaign. The logo will be a gun-toting whale with a moustache.)
O'Leary says he will create 300 engineering jobs at Dublin Airport. There are conditions, though. He won't talk to the DAA and he wants Hangar Six, which is leased to Aer Lingus. He contacted Coughlan to secure it for him, which she "failed" to do. The stupid girl.
The protagonists actually have quite a bit in common. Both are foul-mouthed and stubborn. Both are headline grabbers: O'Leary for putting his boot into the government; Coughlan for putting her boot in her mouth. She was the obvious choice for Villain of the Piece, 'cocking up yet again'.
In Leinster House, the opposition did more knee-jerking than a Riverdance chorus line. They howled at Brian Cowen to tear up Aer Lingus's lease. It was all just political hay-making, with insults tossed around the house by the country's best-paid tossers.
This was never a simple equation of 'Hangar Six minus Aer Lingus = 300 Ryanair jobs'. Aer Lingus's lease stated they could only be moved on the grounds of 'aircraft operation' or 'airport development' – not to make way for another tenant. Hangar Six is the only one capable of accommodating more than one of their wide-body Airbus A330 aircraft. They were staying put.
Coughlan offered O'Leary alternatives: Hangars One and Two or a newly-built premises. Sites at Shannon and Knock were also available. Like Andy, the churlish Little Britain character, he huffed, "I want that one", pointing at Hangar Six.
So why does he want Hangar Six so badly, given that he doesn't have any wide-body aircraft? He says he wants to move his HQ there. The suspicion, however, is that he wants to use it as a terminal. On Thursday, he produced a letter giving 'guarantees' to the IDA which he hoped would dispel this suspicion. It didn't. O'Leary knows that if he ever hopes to open Hangar Six as a terminal, then he must acquire it first. 'Guarantees' can be dealt with later.
Coughlan is an easy target for his criticism. Last week, Senator Eoghan Harris attacked O'Leary for demeaning the office of enterprise minister. In truth, Mary has done a fine job of demeaning it herself. Her handling of the Fás fiasco still beggars belief. We don't need O'Leary to tell us she is useless at her job – we already know it. The former Dell and Waterford workers know it. Cadbury's workers may know it soon too.
However, O'Leary's attack backfired as the week progressed. It became obvious he was playing a media game with her. Coughlan, he said, had "tragically" lost the 300 jobs. Why? Because he was asking for something he knew she couldn't give. He pined for the days when Haughey was running the country. Why? So he could avail of the services of a crook?
Lurking at the back of all this is O'Leary's penchant for score-settling. He's still seething over the government's €10 airport tax. It infuriates him that it's less money spent on his bagged alcohol or scratch cards.
If there is any lingering doubt that this is at the core of his manufactured row with Coughlan, then look at Ryanair's website. On 5 February, it announced it will be reducing its Shannon jobs from over 300 to less than 200 because of the tax. At the end of the statement it says, "these cuts would be immediately reversed if the €10.00 Visitor Tax is scrapped". Does that sound like he's holding hundreds of families hostage? O'Leary sees his employees and the unemployed merely as pawns. He's never experienced the soul-sapping desperation of being on the dole. To give jobless people hope and then take it away is cruel beyond comprehension. Whether those jobs materialise or not, he's dragged hundreds of vulnerable families through the ringer.
The bottom line is that he has 300 jobs in his gift. If he really cares about bringing employment to Dublin, then he should shut up, take what's on offer and create them.
Cowen, meanwhile, should start taking a Ryanair approach to his cabinet and stop placing loyalty above ability. Coughlan wouldn't be employed at corporate level in Ryanair. The Hangar Six affair may not have been of her making, but there are plenty of other reasons for hoofing her out of the enterprise ministry.
She has allowed O'Leary to play her like a ball in a schoolyard game. O'Leary should do the nation a favour and stop hopping the ball. It's One or Two, O'Leary… Hangar Six is out of the question. Now create those jobs or hop it.
dkenny@tribune.ie
February 21, 2010
No more bailing out of Ahern's long finger
Sunday Tribune 14 February
Michael Murray is a walking cliché. His beady blue eyes, shaved head, mean, craggy face… if he had 'convicted rapist' tattooed across his forehead, his past couldn't be more obvious.
Last week, the Evening Herald pictured him at the door of his flat in Inchicore. His body language suggested that of a hunted animal run to ground.
Murray doesn't like being photographed. On Tuesday, solicitors for the serial rapist tried to effectively bar the Herald from using images of him at his new address. Murray values his privacy – with good reason.
In 1995, he was arrested on suspicion of rape and released pending a decision on charges. Over the following five days, he raped three more women and sexually assaulted two others.
He was jailed for 18 years but was released five years early last summer and then disappeared. Liveline and the Herald tracked him down. He may have been living next door to you.
As Murray was attempting to gag the Herald last week, another rapist, John Ryan, was sentenced to seven years for attacking a teenager in his taxi. After sentencing, it emerged Ryan had been allowed to continue driving his taxi following the rape allegation – despite garda objections. Ryan may have given your daughter a lift home while awaiting trial.
Two men, two threats, both at large when they should be kept away from the public.
Now consider the case of Dominic McKevitt. In December, McKevitt was arrested in Dundalk and taken to Mountjoy. The St Vincent de Paul volunteer had forgotten to get a €12.70 licence for his rescue dog Nemo and hadn't paid the €300 fine. He spent 12 hours in jail before being freed by the embarrassed authorities.
Cases like Murray's, Ryan's and Mc Kevitt's highlight the seemingly arbitrary nature of our legal system. They undermine public confidence by reinforcing the perception that the law is skewed in favour of the criminal. It's not, but appearances are everything.
Justice minister Dermot Ahern is aware of this. He has made a big show of dealing with the fines problem. Like Dublin traffic he has the appearance of movement but is really just snailing along.
Almost a year ago, Ahern published the Fines Bill 2009, to give judges alternatives to jail sentences. Incredibly, it is still not law and there is no date for its enactment.
During the first 10 months of last year, 3,366 people were jailed for non-payment of court fines. Sixty-two of these were jailed over TV licences. The overall figure compares to 2,520 in 2008 and 1,335 in 2007. While we wait for Ahern's fines law, the number of incarcerations is increasing. Dog and TV licence fine defaulters are going to prison while individuals like Murray are being set free early. Where are our priorities?
Ahern says defaulters are "a tiny fraction" of the prison population. Presumably, these 'little people' – like McKevitt – are not significant enough to warrant some haste on his behalf.
Last November, Ahern made another promise. He said he was finally going to reform the bail laws in favour of public safety. The figures for bail crime are frightening. The Dáil has heard that suspects for eight murders in 2008 and 13 committed in 2007 were on bail. The mother Sylvia Roche Kelly and Swiss teenager Manuela Riedo were both murdered in 2007 by bailed criminals. Twenty four serious sex offences were committed by people on bail in 2008. Thirty-four suspects threatened to kill people.
Between 2004 and mid-2008, 90,000 serious crimes were committed by bailed suspects.
Seven out of eight people who apply for bail are successful.
Will Ahern move quickly to deal with this problem? On the evidence of the Fines Bill, don't hold your breath. Before his proposals are even published, they must be approved by the AG and tested against the Constitution and European law.
Reform of the bail laws will drag on interminably. Why? Because of resources. Ahern admitted last April that reform was impractical because of prison overcrowding. During 2008, nine jails operated at or above capacity. The cost of keeping a prisoner is €92,717. Without Thornton Hall, bail will continue to act as a prison valve.
Ahern, while appearing to address the issue, has kicked reform to touch. He is playing the Fianna Fáil long ball game. The banks probe won't begin until the summer – a year and a half after the economic crisis began. Nama is still not up and running – a year and a half after the economic crisis began. The Fines Bill is still not enacted – one year on. Even Ahern's plan to tag sex offenders is still not a runner – one year on.
The public has a fundamental right to confidence in the legal system. It has the right not to be afraid of being attacked by someone on bail. Women shouldn't have to worry that their taxi driver is going to rape them, or that demons like Murray will be released early and quietly move in next door. The public has a right to more than 'optics' from a justice minister moving in slow-motion. It's about time Ahern started making a tangible difference on the streets of Ireland.
Long arm of the law? It's more like 'long finger of the law'.
dkenny@tribune.ie
February 14, 2010
Michael Murray is a walking cliché. His beady blue eyes, shaved head, mean, craggy face… if he had 'convicted rapist' tattooed across his forehead, his past couldn't be more obvious.
Last week, the Evening Herald pictured him at the door of his flat in Inchicore. His body language suggested that of a hunted animal run to ground.
Murray doesn't like being photographed. On Tuesday, solicitors for the serial rapist tried to effectively bar the Herald from using images of him at his new address. Murray values his privacy – with good reason.
In 1995, he was arrested on suspicion of rape and released pending a decision on charges. Over the following five days, he raped three more women and sexually assaulted two others.
He was jailed for 18 years but was released five years early last summer and then disappeared. Liveline and the Herald tracked him down. He may have been living next door to you.
As Murray was attempting to gag the Herald last week, another rapist, John Ryan, was sentenced to seven years for attacking a teenager in his taxi. After sentencing, it emerged Ryan had been allowed to continue driving his taxi following the rape allegation – despite garda objections. Ryan may have given your daughter a lift home while awaiting trial.
Two men, two threats, both at large when they should be kept away from the public.
Now consider the case of Dominic McKevitt. In December, McKevitt was arrested in Dundalk and taken to Mountjoy. The St Vincent de Paul volunteer had forgotten to get a €12.70 licence for his rescue dog Nemo and hadn't paid the €300 fine. He spent 12 hours in jail before being freed by the embarrassed authorities.
Cases like Murray's, Ryan's and Mc Kevitt's highlight the seemingly arbitrary nature of our legal system. They undermine public confidence by reinforcing the perception that the law is skewed in favour of the criminal. It's not, but appearances are everything.
Justice minister Dermot Ahern is aware of this. He has made a big show of dealing with the fines problem. Like Dublin traffic he has the appearance of movement but is really just snailing along.
Almost a year ago, Ahern published the Fines Bill 2009, to give judges alternatives to jail sentences. Incredibly, it is still not law and there is no date for its enactment.
During the first 10 months of last year, 3,366 people were jailed for non-payment of court fines. Sixty-two of these were jailed over TV licences. The overall figure compares to 2,520 in 2008 and 1,335 in 2007. While we wait for Ahern's fines law, the number of incarcerations is increasing. Dog and TV licence fine defaulters are going to prison while individuals like Murray are being set free early. Where are our priorities?
Ahern says defaulters are "a tiny fraction" of the prison population. Presumably, these 'little people' – like McKevitt – are not significant enough to warrant some haste on his behalf.
Last November, Ahern made another promise. He said he was finally going to reform the bail laws in favour of public safety. The figures for bail crime are frightening. The Dáil has heard that suspects for eight murders in 2008 and 13 committed in 2007 were on bail. The mother Sylvia Roche Kelly and Swiss teenager Manuela Riedo were both murdered in 2007 by bailed criminals. Twenty four serious sex offences were committed by people on bail in 2008. Thirty-four suspects threatened to kill people.
Between 2004 and mid-2008, 90,000 serious crimes were committed by bailed suspects.
Seven out of eight people who apply for bail are successful.
Will Ahern move quickly to deal with this problem? On the evidence of the Fines Bill, don't hold your breath. Before his proposals are even published, they must be approved by the AG and tested against the Constitution and European law.
Reform of the bail laws will drag on interminably. Why? Because of resources. Ahern admitted last April that reform was impractical because of prison overcrowding. During 2008, nine jails operated at or above capacity. The cost of keeping a prisoner is €92,717. Without Thornton Hall, bail will continue to act as a prison valve.
Ahern, while appearing to address the issue, has kicked reform to touch. He is playing the Fianna Fáil long ball game. The banks probe won't begin until the summer – a year and a half after the economic crisis began. Nama is still not up and running – a year and a half after the economic crisis began. The Fines Bill is still not enacted – one year on. Even Ahern's plan to tag sex offenders is still not a runner – one year on.
The public has a fundamental right to confidence in the legal system. It has the right not to be afraid of being attacked by someone on bail. Women shouldn't have to worry that their taxi driver is going to rape them, or that demons like Murray will be released early and quietly move in next door. The public has a right to more than 'optics' from a justice minister moving in slow-motion. It's about time Ahern started making a tangible difference on the streets of Ireland.
Long arm of the law? It's more like 'long finger of the law'.
dkenny@tribune.ie
February 14, 2010
We can rebuild our spirit, but Cowen must rebuild our trust
Sunday Tribune 7 February
Brian Cowen wore a top hat, tails and tapped his cane on the stage. "You've got to… aaaaaccent-uate the positive…" he sang, "ellllllimmm-inate the negative… and don't mess with Mr In-Between!" He attempted to do the splits, failed and slid along the dancefloor on his knees instead, doing 'jazz hands'. The crowd was delirious. Someone threw their underpants at him and…
I woke up in a cold sweat. It had been a bad dream: the product of too much cheese and RTÉ's report of Cowen's speech to Dublin Chamber of Commerce on Thursday. Our leader wants us to stop being negative. We need to be like the heroes of 1916, lads. We need some new optimism, lads. Neo-optimism, if you like.
As unintentionally funny speeches go, this was second only to Donie Cassidy's mad ramble in the Seanad on Wednesday. (Donie kept referring to the 'Jack and Jill' charity as the 'Jekyll and Hyde' charity.)
The Taoiseach's pep talk was all the more remarkable as it came on the heels of a report which shows that Ireland is suffering Europe's worst confidence crisis. The Edelman Trust Barometer says our trust in government has fallen to 28% (global average is 49%), while trust in business is 31% (average is 50%). The latest MRBI poll says three quarters of us are dissatisfied with this government.
What planet is Cowen living on? It will take more than rhetoric to get the nation behind him. With its references to 1916, the Taoiseach aimed his speech at our nobler side. Anyone who doesn't heed his call is a pessimistic traitor. All critics are just being "populist".
"Populist" is the latest dirty word Fianna Fáil uses to dismiss dissenters. If you hammer home a point about cronyism or expenses, you are being "populist". This paper was accused of being "populist" when it pursued John O'Donoghue over his crazy expenses.
Even Jim McDaid, who is permanently camped under the public gallery, has a new aversion to "populism". Last Wednesday he, bizarrely, told Liveline that headshops shouldn't be banned "for purely populist reasons". Jim – not for the first time – was driving against oncoming traffic.
The opposition were also accused of being "populist" when they urged Brian Lenihan to intervene over Permanent TSB's rates hikes. Of course, Lenihan couldn't intervene, but it's the opposition's job to rattle his cage on behalf of the mistrustful 'Great Unwashed' – ie, be "populist".
There were plenty of reasons, last week alone, for the public not to trust Cowen and Co. For example, how can we trust transport minister Noel Dempsey about, well, anything? Last August, we learned that taxpayers will compensate the operators of the M3 if car numbers fall below a certain target. Dempsey refused to reveal what that target was.
Last week, he gave us the silent treatment again and wouldn't explain why he appointed his election canvasser to the National Transport Authority board. Damien Usher is, coincidentally, a former bank manager.
Or what about the revelation that the company which built the M50 for €58m will ultimately make €1.15bn from it – at our expense. We're paying that company €50m a year for the next decade in 'compensation' for buying the road off them. Padraig Flynn and George Redmond signed off on that contract.
Or how can we trust the Greens to protect our environment when they seem powerless to halt the building of the massive Poolbeg incinerator? Will John Gormley be steamrolled like he was over the banks? After his betrayal of Tara, how can we trust Gormley to handle concerns over the proposed Slane bypass at Newgrange? There are 44 archaeological sites within 500 metres of the route. Will he ask councillor Nick Killian what he meant when he dismissed local archaeology as "historic bric-a-brac"? Can we trust Gormley to safeguard our 'bric-a-brac' heritage? (See www.savenewgrange.org).
Or how can we trust Eamon Ryan's posturing over transparency when he appoints a new Commissioner for Energy Regulation (€165,000 pa) after a phone conversation?
And there's more. How can we trust the state's judicial system when a serial rapist like Michael Murray can be sentenced to 18 years, released after 10 and then go to ground?
How can we trust that system not to waste our money when a district court judge can run up €91,909 in expenses and the constitution won't allow us to lower his/her wages?
How can we even trust Irish businesses to sell us Irish goods? Did you know that Fruitfield's 'Old Time Irish' marmalade, which has an address in Tallaght on the label, is made in the UK and Portugal?
The above are just a few examples for Cowen to contemplate. All "populist" topics worth highlighting. He is correct when he says we need to rebuild our spirit. As leader of the country, it's up to him to rebuild our trust.
Half a million are on the dole. There's no harm in the media and opposition playing to that gallery once in a while – within reason – if it reminds the government that it's being watched. Cowen can make a song and dance about being optimistic, but he must first eliminate the negative before the disenchanted can consider accentuating the positive. We'll give you your 'neo-optimism' when you get rid of the nepotism, Taoiseach.
Noel Dempsey, please note.
dkenny@tribune.ie
February 7, 2010
Brian Cowen wore a top hat, tails and tapped his cane on the stage. "You've got to… aaaaaccent-uate the positive…" he sang, "ellllllimmm-inate the negative… and don't mess with Mr In-Between!" He attempted to do the splits, failed and slid along the dancefloor on his knees instead, doing 'jazz hands'. The crowd was delirious. Someone threw their underpants at him and…
I woke up in a cold sweat. It had been a bad dream: the product of too much cheese and RTÉ's report of Cowen's speech to Dublin Chamber of Commerce on Thursday. Our leader wants us to stop being negative. We need to be like the heroes of 1916, lads. We need some new optimism, lads. Neo-optimism, if you like.
As unintentionally funny speeches go, this was second only to Donie Cassidy's mad ramble in the Seanad on Wednesday. (Donie kept referring to the 'Jack and Jill' charity as the 'Jekyll and Hyde' charity.)
The Taoiseach's pep talk was all the more remarkable as it came on the heels of a report which shows that Ireland is suffering Europe's worst confidence crisis. The Edelman Trust Barometer says our trust in government has fallen to 28% (global average is 49%), while trust in business is 31% (average is 50%). The latest MRBI poll says three quarters of us are dissatisfied with this government.
What planet is Cowen living on? It will take more than rhetoric to get the nation behind him. With its references to 1916, the Taoiseach aimed his speech at our nobler side. Anyone who doesn't heed his call is a pessimistic traitor. All critics are just being "populist".
"Populist" is the latest dirty word Fianna Fáil uses to dismiss dissenters. If you hammer home a point about cronyism or expenses, you are being "populist". This paper was accused of being "populist" when it pursued John O'Donoghue over his crazy expenses.
Even Jim McDaid, who is permanently camped under the public gallery, has a new aversion to "populism". Last Wednesday he, bizarrely, told Liveline that headshops shouldn't be banned "for purely populist reasons". Jim – not for the first time – was driving against oncoming traffic.
The opposition were also accused of being "populist" when they urged Brian Lenihan to intervene over Permanent TSB's rates hikes. Of course, Lenihan couldn't intervene, but it's the opposition's job to rattle his cage on behalf of the mistrustful 'Great Unwashed' – ie, be "populist".
There were plenty of reasons, last week alone, for the public not to trust Cowen and Co. For example, how can we trust transport minister Noel Dempsey about, well, anything? Last August, we learned that taxpayers will compensate the operators of the M3 if car numbers fall below a certain target. Dempsey refused to reveal what that target was.
Last week, he gave us the silent treatment again and wouldn't explain why he appointed his election canvasser to the National Transport Authority board. Damien Usher is, coincidentally, a former bank manager.
Or what about the revelation that the company which built the M50 for €58m will ultimately make €1.15bn from it – at our expense. We're paying that company €50m a year for the next decade in 'compensation' for buying the road off them. Padraig Flynn and George Redmond signed off on that contract.
Or how can we trust the Greens to protect our environment when they seem powerless to halt the building of the massive Poolbeg incinerator? Will John Gormley be steamrolled like he was over the banks? After his betrayal of Tara, how can we trust Gormley to handle concerns over the proposed Slane bypass at Newgrange? There are 44 archaeological sites within 500 metres of the route. Will he ask councillor Nick Killian what he meant when he dismissed local archaeology as "historic bric-a-brac"? Can we trust Gormley to safeguard our 'bric-a-brac' heritage? (See www.savenewgrange.org).
Or how can we trust Eamon Ryan's posturing over transparency when he appoints a new Commissioner for Energy Regulation (€165,000 pa) after a phone conversation?
And there's more. How can we trust the state's judicial system when a serial rapist like Michael Murray can be sentenced to 18 years, released after 10 and then go to ground?
How can we trust that system not to waste our money when a district court judge can run up €91,909 in expenses and the constitution won't allow us to lower his/her wages?
How can we even trust Irish businesses to sell us Irish goods? Did you know that Fruitfield's 'Old Time Irish' marmalade, which has an address in Tallaght on the label, is made in the UK and Portugal?
The above are just a few examples for Cowen to contemplate. All "populist" topics worth highlighting. He is correct when he says we need to rebuild our spirit. As leader of the country, it's up to him to rebuild our trust.
Half a million are on the dole. There's no harm in the media and opposition playing to that gallery once in a while – within reason – if it reminds the government that it's being watched. Cowen can make a song and dance about being optimistic, but he must first eliminate the negative before the disenchanted can consider accentuating the positive. We'll give you your 'neo-optimism' when you get rid of the nepotism, Taoiseach.
Noel Dempsey, please note.
dkenny@tribune.ie
February 7, 2010
An all-Ireland hero is let down by political pygmies
Sunday Tribune 24 January
"This man is a true hero." Gay O'Brien blushed as my father gushed about his bravery. "He filmed Derry in 1968." It was October 1979 and I was 12. I hadn't a clue what the old man was on about. Filming a city sounded acutely boring. Nonetheless, I shook Gay's hand and made all the right noises.
Afterwards, my father explained that 'Derry' had been a watershed in the north's history. Civil Rights activists and elected representatives had been baton-charged by the RUC on the city's Duke Street while making a peaceful protest. O'Brien filmed the officers going berserk and his RTÉ footage was shown around the world. Finally, outsiders saw the RUC for what it was: a brutal, sectarian organisation.
O'Brien had put personal safety aside and stood his ground in the face of savagery. My father was right to embarrass him: he was a hero.
PSNI officer, Peadar Heffron is a hero too. Not for his exploits as captain of the PSNI GAA team or his championing of Irish in the Queen's constabulary. Not even for surviving a dissident Republican bomb earlier this month – he was a hero long before that. Heffron is a hero because he, too, stood his ground despite threats. He answered the call to create a new North and joined the PSNI. He took his Catholic Irishness into what many still see as enemy territory to dilute the force's old RUC reputation.
His decision to do this is a measure of how far this island has come since O'Brien filmed events in Derry. His payment for that decision was an amputated leg and multiple horrific injuries. Last week, Heffron regained consciousness to the sound of squabbling at Hillsborough. The DUP and Sinn Féin were head-butting each other again over the devolution of policing from London to Belfast – something all parties had signed up to.
As Heffron's wife, Fiona, reflected on her husband's future, the two men responsible for keeping peace in the North went running to mammy. Peter Robinson and Martin McGuinness tugged at the governments' apron strings and Gordon Brown and Brian Cowen doled out the sticking plasters and Savlon. There was also a flash of the wooden spoon and 'daddy' America was phoned at work. This was a soap opera – with the same old risible plotline and characters. It was another show of the pathetic, self-important nonsense we're used to from the North's politicians.
While Heffron's mutilated body was being nursed in hospital, McGuinness and Robinson were bickering over 'points of principle'. Time wasted over 'points of principle' is time given to malcontents like those who attacked Heffron. It creates disillusion and breeds more recruits for their pointless 'cause'. There is no time for 'points of principle' while the bombers are regrouping. The DUP and SF were playing politics with people's lives. The former Chuckle Brothers have become the Bare Knuckle Brothers.
Jim Allister of the TUV hit the target when he said that the DUP and the Shinners can't even get their act together over the education system. Why, he asked, give them even more power? His observation appeared to be reinforced by their play-acting for the cameras.
There is now major concern that this pantomime will be staged every time there's a hiccup in the peace process. The Knuckle Brothers must stop throwing shapes and start governing. The alternative is a slide back into the past.
It's only 12 years since the celebration of the Good Friday agreement was rocked by the Omagh bombing. Twelve years since 29 people were blown apart. The era of paramilitary barbarism was only yesterday in our island's long history.
It's only five years since the GAA lifted Rule 21 which banned policemen like Heffron from playing gaelic games. It's only 17 years since the lifting of Section 31, which outlawed the broadcasting of Sinn Féin voices. It's only 26 years since a Loyalist mob invaded Clontibret, Co Monaghan. A mob led by Peter Robinson.
The past is still very close.
Our Taoiseach's involvement in last week's mess highlights how important the North's stability is to the Republic. Peace has brought both jurisdictions closer together. The cross-border traffic we witness at Christmas is testament to the eased relationship.
The lessons learned over 40 years make it harder to understand attacks like those on Heffron. They also make it harder to understand last week's time-wasting.
The histrionics at Hillsborough did him a huge disservice. He has paid his price for peace. It's now up to the North's leaders to honour his sacrifice and start behaving like statesmen rather than sulky local politicians.
Robinson said of the Heffron outrage: "Those who perpetrate such attacks will not succeed in returning Northern Ireland to the dark days of the past." Maybe not, but squabbling politicians like himself and McGuinness might.
In the meantime, Peadar Heffron's pain, like Gay O'Brien's archive footage, is a reminder that the dark days 'haven't gone away' yet.
His GAA-playing days are over, but Heffron is an all-Ireland hero in the truest sense of the phrase.
dkenny@tribune.ie
January 31, 2010
"This man is a true hero." Gay O'Brien blushed as my father gushed about his bravery. "He filmed Derry in 1968." It was October 1979 and I was 12. I hadn't a clue what the old man was on about. Filming a city sounded acutely boring. Nonetheless, I shook Gay's hand and made all the right noises.
Afterwards, my father explained that 'Derry' had been a watershed in the north's history. Civil Rights activists and elected representatives had been baton-charged by the RUC on the city's Duke Street while making a peaceful protest. O'Brien filmed the officers going berserk and his RTÉ footage was shown around the world. Finally, outsiders saw the RUC for what it was: a brutal, sectarian organisation.
O'Brien had put personal safety aside and stood his ground in the face of savagery. My father was right to embarrass him: he was a hero.
PSNI officer, Peadar Heffron is a hero too. Not for his exploits as captain of the PSNI GAA team or his championing of Irish in the Queen's constabulary. Not even for surviving a dissident Republican bomb earlier this month – he was a hero long before that. Heffron is a hero because he, too, stood his ground despite threats. He answered the call to create a new North and joined the PSNI. He took his Catholic Irishness into what many still see as enemy territory to dilute the force's old RUC reputation.
His decision to do this is a measure of how far this island has come since O'Brien filmed events in Derry. His payment for that decision was an amputated leg and multiple horrific injuries. Last week, Heffron regained consciousness to the sound of squabbling at Hillsborough. The DUP and Sinn Féin were head-butting each other again over the devolution of policing from London to Belfast – something all parties had signed up to.
As Heffron's wife, Fiona, reflected on her husband's future, the two men responsible for keeping peace in the North went running to mammy. Peter Robinson and Martin McGuinness tugged at the governments' apron strings and Gordon Brown and Brian Cowen doled out the sticking plasters and Savlon. There was also a flash of the wooden spoon and 'daddy' America was phoned at work. This was a soap opera – with the same old risible plotline and characters. It was another show of the pathetic, self-important nonsense we're used to from the North's politicians.
While Heffron's mutilated body was being nursed in hospital, McGuinness and Robinson were bickering over 'points of principle'. Time wasted over 'points of principle' is time given to malcontents like those who attacked Heffron. It creates disillusion and breeds more recruits for their pointless 'cause'. There is no time for 'points of principle' while the bombers are regrouping. The DUP and SF were playing politics with people's lives. The former Chuckle Brothers have become the Bare Knuckle Brothers.
Jim Allister of the TUV hit the target when he said that the DUP and the Shinners can't even get their act together over the education system. Why, he asked, give them even more power? His observation appeared to be reinforced by their play-acting for the cameras.
There is now major concern that this pantomime will be staged every time there's a hiccup in the peace process. The Knuckle Brothers must stop throwing shapes and start governing. The alternative is a slide back into the past.
It's only 12 years since the celebration of the Good Friday agreement was rocked by the Omagh bombing. Twelve years since 29 people were blown apart. The era of paramilitary barbarism was only yesterday in our island's long history.
It's only five years since the GAA lifted Rule 21 which banned policemen like Heffron from playing gaelic games. It's only 17 years since the lifting of Section 31, which outlawed the broadcasting of Sinn Féin voices. It's only 26 years since a Loyalist mob invaded Clontibret, Co Monaghan. A mob led by Peter Robinson.
The past is still very close.
Our Taoiseach's involvement in last week's mess highlights how important the North's stability is to the Republic. Peace has brought both jurisdictions closer together. The cross-border traffic we witness at Christmas is testament to the eased relationship.
The lessons learned over 40 years make it harder to understand attacks like those on Heffron. They also make it harder to understand last week's time-wasting.
The histrionics at Hillsborough did him a huge disservice. He has paid his price for peace. It's now up to the North's leaders to honour his sacrifice and start behaving like statesmen rather than sulky local politicians.
Robinson said of the Heffron outrage: "Those who perpetrate such attacks will not succeed in returning Northern Ireland to the dark days of the past." Maybe not, but squabbling politicians like himself and McGuinness might.
In the meantime, Peadar Heffron's pain, like Gay O'Brien's archive footage, is a reminder that the dark days 'haven't gone away' yet.
His GAA-playing days are over, but Heffron is an all-Ireland hero in the truest sense of the phrase.
dkenny@tribune.ie
January 31, 2010
Why public will gobble Gormley's Greens at election
Sunday Tribune 24 January
There's a new 'green' in town. Last week, farmers unveiled the first new vegetable in 10 years. It's called the 'flower sprout' and is a weird-looking kale hybrid that veggie heads hope will give the maligned Brussels sprout an image makeover.
News of the flower sprout's arrival broke on the same day that another green vegetable was being boiled in public. Like the sprout, Green Party leader John Gormley is hugely unpopular and leaves a noxious odour behind him. On Wednesday, Pat Kenny turned the heat up on his defence of the government's whitewash of the banking crisis. Gormley said he welcomed the Commission of Inquiry, which will save key political figures a public grilling. (End of cookery puns.)
Just in case there's any confusion: this was the same Gormley who demanded a FULL PUBLIC inquiry. This was the same Gormley who pointedly didn't attend the Dáil announcement last Tuesday. His colleagues stayed away too.
Even by Gormley's usual hypocritical standards, his performance was off the scale. He hid behind buzzwords like 'scoping'. What's scoping? Is it some unpleasant medical procedure we get to inflict on the bankers? No. Scoping means drawing up the terms of reference for the inquiry… four months from now. The commission will begin in July and a document will be delivered next year – three years after the crisis began. Gormley didn't get the public inquiry he wanted. He got a delaying tactic.
He told Pat he couldn't understand why people were "dissing" the commission. (It nearly rhymed. "Yo! Don't you be dissin'… mah co-mish-on..."). Memo to gangsta rapper Gormley: people are "dissing" it because they want to see the architects of their misfortune dragged through the streets. They want revenge. He knows this despite his protestations.
They don't want a party with no integrity left propping up another one that had no integrity to begin with. Since signing up with Fianna Fáil, the Greens have compromised on every major principle they stood for. Before entering government, they supported the Shell to Sea movement, the halting of US military planes landing at Shannon and the re-routing of the M3.
Today, Eamon Ryan is in charge of the Corrib gas project and military flights still stop at Shannon. The latter is a classic example of the Greens being duped by a Fianna Fáil stalling tactic. In 2008, the government was forced to set up a cabinet committee to review the searching of suspected CIA rendition flights. Last week, Amnesty's Colm O'Gorman recalled Ciaran Cuffe happily endorsing it. Two years on, the committee has only met twice and there is still no review. There's a lesson to be learned in that.
Tara is the greatest betrayal of all, with Gormley steamrolling the M3 through the historic valley, despite the international outcry. His defence of this vandalism is even more galling when you consider that the M3 tolls are going to a multinational for the next 40 years. When there is a shortfall in usage the Irish taxpayer will make up the difference.
Now there is another archaeological flashpoint on the horizon. Plans were announced last week for a bypass at Slane, 500m from the edge of the Newbridge world monument. Who wants this vandal in charge when the fight begins over this?
Even in a business as devoid of conscience as politics, Gormley stands out as a man missing the shame gene. He was very misleading on Prime Time about the sourcing of extra grit/salt during the freeze.
He knows the banking inquiry is buying time for Brian Cowen. He also knows that the Toxic Trinity of banker, builder and politician is still with us. Two weeks ago, housing minister Michael Finneran said there were up to 140,000 unoccupied houses around the country. The construction industry suggested 40,000.
However, a study carried out at NUI Maynooth concluded there are 302,000: enough to satisfy demand for years to come. That's bad news for the construction industry – and the government if it has been spinning figures to suit its building buddies. Here is the physical proof that Ireland was deliberately over-developed by the Toxic Trinity.
Next month, the third member of that trinity, the bankers, will start throwing people out of their homes as the repossession moratorium comes to an end. This is as good a reason as any for Gormley to have forced Fianna Fáil's hand over the banks.
By his own lights he had the power to demand a full public inquiry. In 2008, he ran into problems with the EU over his plans to ban incandescent light bulbs. His spokesman said those problems could be over-ridden by EU legislation. Why couldn't Gormley have applied similar logic to the banking inquiry? If legislation is hindering you, find a way around it or change it. As with everything else, he sold out to stay in. He betrayed us, just as he betrayed our heritage. He has proven again that he believes in power at all costs.
His inquiry is a con job. Like the flower sprout, it's an illusion. A sprout is still a sprout no matter how you dress it up. A whitewash is still a whitewash.
The only consolation is – come election time – Gormley is one green the public will really enjoy getting their teeth into.
dkenny@tribune.ie
January 24, 2010
There's a new 'green' in town. Last week, farmers unveiled the first new vegetable in 10 years. It's called the 'flower sprout' and is a weird-looking kale hybrid that veggie heads hope will give the maligned Brussels sprout an image makeover.
News of the flower sprout's arrival broke on the same day that another green vegetable was being boiled in public. Like the sprout, Green Party leader John Gormley is hugely unpopular and leaves a noxious odour behind him. On Wednesday, Pat Kenny turned the heat up on his defence of the government's whitewash of the banking crisis. Gormley said he welcomed the Commission of Inquiry, which will save key political figures a public grilling. (End of cookery puns.)
Just in case there's any confusion: this was the same Gormley who demanded a FULL PUBLIC inquiry. This was the same Gormley who pointedly didn't attend the Dáil announcement last Tuesday. His colleagues stayed away too.
Even by Gormley's usual hypocritical standards, his performance was off the scale. He hid behind buzzwords like 'scoping'. What's scoping? Is it some unpleasant medical procedure we get to inflict on the bankers? No. Scoping means drawing up the terms of reference for the inquiry… four months from now. The commission will begin in July and a document will be delivered next year – three years after the crisis began. Gormley didn't get the public inquiry he wanted. He got a delaying tactic.
He told Pat he couldn't understand why people were "dissing" the commission. (It nearly rhymed. "Yo! Don't you be dissin'… mah co-mish-on..."). Memo to gangsta rapper Gormley: people are "dissing" it because they want to see the architects of their misfortune dragged through the streets. They want revenge. He knows this despite his protestations.
They don't want a party with no integrity left propping up another one that had no integrity to begin with. Since signing up with Fianna Fáil, the Greens have compromised on every major principle they stood for. Before entering government, they supported the Shell to Sea movement, the halting of US military planes landing at Shannon and the re-routing of the M3.
Today, Eamon Ryan is in charge of the Corrib gas project and military flights still stop at Shannon. The latter is a classic example of the Greens being duped by a Fianna Fáil stalling tactic. In 2008, the government was forced to set up a cabinet committee to review the searching of suspected CIA rendition flights. Last week, Amnesty's Colm O'Gorman recalled Ciaran Cuffe happily endorsing it. Two years on, the committee has only met twice and there is still no review. There's a lesson to be learned in that.
Tara is the greatest betrayal of all, with Gormley steamrolling the M3 through the historic valley, despite the international outcry. His defence of this vandalism is even more galling when you consider that the M3 tolls are going to a multinational for the next 40 years. When there is a shortfall in usage the Irish taxpayer will make up the difference.
Now there is another archaeological flashpoint on the horizon. Plans were announced last week for a bypass at Slane, 500m from the edge of the Newbridge world monument. Who wants this vandal in charge when the fight begins over this?
Even in a business as devoid of conscience as politics, Gormley stands out as a man missing the shame gene. He was very misleading on Prime Time about the sourcing of extra grit/salt during the freeze.
He knows the banking inquiry is buying time for Brian Cowen. He also knows that the Toxic Trinity of banker, builder and politician is still with us. Two weeks ago, housing minister Michael Finneran said there were up to 140,000 unoccupied houses around the country. The construction industry suggested 40,000.
However, a study carried out at NUI Maynooth concluded there are 302,000: enough to satisfy demand for years to come. That's bad news for the construction industry – and the government if it has been spinning figures to suit its building buddies. Here is the physical proof that Ireland was deliberately over-developed by the Toxic Trinity.
Next month, the third member of that trinity, the bankers, will start throwing people out of their homes as the repossession moratorium comes to an end. This is as good a reason as any for Gormley to have forced Fianna Fáil's hand over the banks.
By his own lights he had the power to demand a full public inquiry. In 2008, he ran into problems with the EU over his plans to ban incandescent light bulbs. His spokesman said those problems could be over-ridden by EU legislation. Why couldn't Gormley have applied similar logic to the banking inquiry? If legislation is hindering you, find a way around it or change it. As with everything else, he sold out to stay in. He betrayed us, just as he betrayed our heritage. He has proven again that he believes in power at all costs.
His inquiry is a con job. Like the flower sprout, it's an illusion. A sprout is still a sprout no matter how you dress it up. A whitewash is still a whitewash.
The only consolation is – come election time – Gormley is one green the public will really enjoy getting their teeth into.
dkenny@tribune.ie
January 24, 2010
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