Sunday Tribune, 1 November
Picture this: you're tottering home from the pub in Ennis, when you're overwhelmed by a call of nature. You run down a sidestreet and relieve yourself. Suddenly there's a loud buzzing, an electrifying flash and your nether regions light up like a Christmas tree. The owner of the shop you're peeing on – in this case Custy's music store – has installed an electric fence to stop people like you interfering with his property.
Conclusion? You won't do that again in a hurry.
It's a basic principle: your actions have consequences. The same applies for inaction too. Justice minister Dermot Ahern is today facing the consequences of his inactions. The latest CSO figures show that aggravated burglaries have increased by 51% this year and that 'ordinary' burglaries rose by 27% between July and September.
Shocking figures aren't they? Well actually, no, they're not. It's another basic principle: recession means that money goes down and crime goes up. Ahern has been expecting these figures.
Here's another figure Ahern is aware of: 25% of all serious crime is committed by people on bail (CSO, 2008). Prison overcrowding leads to more people on bail. This leads to more crime. Ahern admitted as much on 8 April when he told reporters that he couldn't tighten the bail laws because of overcrowding. There wasn't enough room to keep potentially dangerous suspects behind bars.
So what exactly has he done about overcrowding? Has he forced through the construction of Thornton Hall prison? You know the answer to that. In total, €40m has been spent on the project, with the government paying well over the odds for the site. Instead of turning the sod there, Ahern has been planting shrubs. The latest bill for Thornton Hall is €18,000 for gardening. Its maintenance has cost us €440,000 so far. Instead of a prison we have a well-groomed parkland.
Meanwhile, there's a burglar downstairs who should be behind bars. Get angry about it – but not too angry, if you don't want to get sued. Ahern won't amend the laws to allow homeowners to tackle burglars without being liable for injuries they receive. Or shop-owners. How soon before Custy's of Ennis is sued by some crotch-clutching moron?
The most credible long-term attempt by Ahern to deal with overcrowding was the introduction of the Fines Bill 2009. This allows for alternatives to custodial sentences for loan defaulters. In the past year, almost 300 people were jailed over unpaid debts. As more people lose their homes, more will go to court. More overcrowding, more bailings, more crime. Guess what? Like Thornton Hall, the bill is still at the talking stage. Ahern's detestable Blasphemy Bill made it into law before something that will alleviate needless suffering.
Along with these unfortunate prisoners, the jails will also have to accommodate a new brand of criminal – the Recession Burglar. A rising crime rate means more people heading to jail. With the traditional Christmas burglary spree coming, the situation can only worsen, putting more pressure on the system.
The Department of Justice is operating a revolving door which is spinning out of control. Last year, anyone serving under 20 months in Mountjoy's Dóchas unit was released to make space for more serious offenders. During the summer, overcrowding led to a huge increase in the number of offenders on temporary release. On 29 May, 14.65% of the prison population were at temporary liberty, compared to 8.75% in January.
Recidivist criminals have murdered while on bail. Last April, days after Ahern announced his Fines Bill, Gerard Barry was convicted of the rape and murder of Swiss teenager Manuela Riedo. He had been out on bail.
Ahern says that new beds recently provided across the service will deal with current overcrowding. As crime figures rise, they will not be enough.
Thornton Hall will not be ready for years, therefore other solutions are needed. One is the immediate implementation of the Fines Bill. Another is the reopening of the prisons closed by Michael McDowell. Their gates were shut because he expected Thornton Hall to be operational by now.
We must protect society and show compassion to prisoners. This can only be achieved with a functioning system, where custodial sentences are respected and inmates' rights are protected.
Jail must not be hell on earth – but it should be a deterrent. Wrongdoers – as the man urinating against Custy's shop discovered – must know that there are consequences to their actions.
Finally, there might be another way of dealing with Thornton Hall. It's a classic toxic asset, bought for too much money by the state. (See where I'm going with this?) Perhaps Nama has the answer. Maybe it can get it built by giving it away to a developer as a 'bonus buy'. "We'll even throw in this fully landscaped, rural idyll, with permission for a 1,400 bed guest house and several bars… on the windows."
If we continue to just plant flowers on it, we'll reap the whirlwind. In the meantime, Ahern must deliver credible alternatives to deal with the crime upsurge.
On a brighter note, there's one positive revelation in the new CSO figures. There's been no rise in the number of aggravated blasphemies. Nice work there, minister.
dkenny@tribune.ie
November 1, 2009
Monday, December 14, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Enda Kenny, the red squirrel, has finally found his nuts
Sunday Tribune, 25 October
A red squirrel has been spotted in Kilkenny. This is good news: the native red has been almost wiped out by the aggressive grey. Now, after years in decline, it's back, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
Enda Kenny is a lot like the red squirrel: in recent times he has been in decline. He too is gingerish and has a tendency to nibble and run away. Last week he finally stuck his teeth into something and called for the abolition of the Seanad.
This is a subject close to my heart. I wrote about it a month ago when senator Ivor Callely crashed his yacht. I wanted to know why we should have to indirectly help pay for its upkeep. The Seanad's meaningless, sponging existence should be put to a referendum. Our politicians must radically overhaul the system.
I received a gracious email from a popular senator who offered to bring me in and show me around (I'll get back to you when the Kevlar vest arrives). I don't know if his 59 colleagues read my attack on them. I don't know if Kenny read it either. I'm certainly not suggesting that he picked up the Sunday Tribune and was moved to tear down the Seanad. Mind you he hasn't convincingly explained why he suddenly shifted from reform to abolition. To hell with it, I'm taking the credit. Give us a shout Enda, I've LOADS more ideas for you.
The proposal scored well with the public but, typically, Kenny fluffed the follow-up. He was dreadful on Prime Time. During that interview he waffled on about a willingness to grasp "radical" solutions through "strong leadership". He reiterated the 'L' word in the Irish Times, name-checking his hero, JFK. "Decisive leadership". The sound of loins being girded was deafening.
The question is: was he talking to his party or us? Recently, I put it to a prominent Fine Gaeler that Kenny would never be taoiseach. The people don't want him, I said. He's too wishy-washy. The reply surprised me. "We'll sell ourselves as a team." There was no contradiction, no indignation, no loyalty. The word "coup" wasn't mentioned, but it was there, skulking in the corner.
Nobody was more shocked by Kenny's announcement than his party – notably the front bench. Was the surprise revelation of his Damascene conversion intended to flush out his enemies? Did he want to gauge loyalty by their reaction to a crotch-shot? Probably – at least as much as he wanted to regain popular ground from Eamon Gilmore.
Like a clutch of other senior politicians last week, Kenny was just throwing David Brent-like leadership shapes. Noel Dempsey acted like he was rehearsing for party leader when he squared up to his backbenchers over his drink-driving law. Brian Cowen was all "bring it on" with the unions over pay cuts. Gilmore told The Week in Politics that Kenny would make a good Tánaiste – ie "I'm your future leader".
What a shower of poseurs. Who do they think they're fooling? It's been a year since the economy fell off the cliff and still nothing has been done to lower down a stretcher. NOTHING. The rest of the world is recovering and we haven't even begun to tackle our banking crisis. We began talking about Nama in April and then the Dáil went on holidays. Last week it made it to the Oireachtas committee stage and, guess what, the Dáil is about to go on leave again. All of our leaders have disgraced themselves with their response to the recession. We should have had something in place months ago.
Real leaders tackle problems, they don't just flex their puny biceps. So, Brian, Enda, Eamon, stop telling us what great leaders you are/will be. We'll decide what you are after the dole queues begin to shorten.
Kenny cocked up on selling us Fine Gael's recovery plan and Nama now appears a fait accompli. To date he has yet to land a blow on this staggering government. Even the stunt of getting George Lee aboard hasn't been effective as he has yet to make his mark. The Seanad proposal hasn't wrong-footed them either – Dempsey has actually backed it.
That said, a good idea is a good idea, regardless of what you think of the instigator. It's already had an effect on our senators who are now begging to be reformed. Stunt or not, Kenny made an impact. A politician who is willing to attack a system that has lost the confidence of the people should be encouraged.
He now needs to move further to show he's commited to reform. He can do this by requesting that those senators who agree with him about the Seanad, for example Frances Fitzgerald, resign to save taxpayers' money. There are 15 Fine Gael senators earning €70k each plus expenses. If the Seanad is powerless as he says (which it is), they won't be missed. This would be a radical move with immediate effect, as opposed to something potentially years down the line.
If he does this, maybe the public will forgive the previous wishy-washiness. He's given us a hint that he may be capable of being a pragmatic leader. He still has some way to go but he's on the right track. Like the Kilkenny red squirrel, he may finally have found his nuts.
dkenny@tribune.ie
A red squirrel has been spotted in Kilkenny. This is good news: the native red has been almost wiped out by the aggressive grey. Now, after years in decline, it's back, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
Enda Kenny is a lot like the red squirrel: in recent times he has been in decline. He too is gingerish and has a tendency to nibble and run away. Last week he finally stuck his teeth into something and called for the abolition of the Seanad.
This is a subject close to my heart. I wrote about it a month ago when senator Ivor Callely crashed his yacht. I wanted to know why we should have to indirectly help pay for its upkeep. The Seanad's meaningless, sponging existence should be put to a referendum. Our politicians must radically overhaul the system.
I received a gracious email from a popular senator who offered to bring me in and show me around (I'll get back to you when the Kevlar vest arrives). I don't know if his 59 colleagues read my attack on them. I don't know if Kenny read it either. I'm certainly not suggesting that he picked up the Sunday Tribune and was moved to tear down the Seanad. Mind you he hasn't convincingly explained why he suddenly shifted from reform to abolition. To hell with it, I'm taking the credit. Give us a shout Enda, I've LOADS more ideas for you.
The proposal scored well with the public but, typically, Kenny fluffed the follow-up. He was dreadful on Prime Time. During that interview he waffled on about a willingness to grasp "radical" solutions through "strong leadership". He reiterated the 'L' word in the Irish Times, name-checking his hero, JFK. "Decisive leadership". The sound of loins being girded was deafening.
The question is: was he talking to his party or us? Recently, I put it to a prominent Fine Gaeler that Kenny would never be taoiseach. The people don't want him, I said. He's too wishy-washy. The reply surprised me. "We'll sell ourselves as a team." There was no contradiction, no indignation, no loyalty. The word "coup" wasn't mentioned, but it was there, skulking in the corner.
Nobody was more shocked by Kenny's announcement than his party – notably the front bench. Was the surprise revelation of his Damascene conversion intended to flush out his enemies? Did he want to gauge loyalty by their reaction to a crotch-shot? Probably – at least as much as he wanted to regain popular ground from Eamon Gilmore.
Like a clutch of other senior politicians last week, Kenny was just throwing David Brent-like leadership shapes. Noel Dempsey acted like he was rehearsing for party leader when he squared up to his backbenchers over his drink-driving law. Brian Cowen was all "bring it on" with the unions over pay cuts. Gilmore told The Week in Politics that Kenny would make a good Tánaiste – ie "I'm your future leader".
What a shower of poseurs. Who do they think they're fooling? It's been a year since the economy fell off the cliff and still nothing has been done to lower down a stretcher. NOTHING. The rest of the world is recovering and we haven't even begun to tackle our banking crisis. We began talking about Nama in April and then the Dáil went on holidays. Last week it made it to the Oireachtas committee stage and, guess what, the Dáil is about to go on leave again. All of our leaders have disgraced themselves with their response to the recession. We should have had something in place months ago.
Real leaders tackle problems, they don't just flex their puny biceps. So, Brian, Enda, Eamon, stop telling us what great leaders you are/will be. We'll decide what you are after the dole queues begin to shorten.
Kenny cocked up on selling us Fine Gael's recovery plan and Nama now appears a fait accompli. To date he has yet to land a blow on this staggering government. Even the stunt of getting George Lee aboard hasn't been effective as he has yet to make his mark. The Seanad proposal hasn't wrong-footed them either – Dempsey has actually backed it.
That said, a good idea is a good idea, regardless of what you think of the instigator. It's already had an effect on our senators who are now begging to be reformed. Stunt or not, Kenny made an impact. A politician who is willing to attack a system that has lost the confidence of the people should be encouraged.
He now needs to move further to show he's commited to reform. He can do this by requesting that those senators who agree with him about the Seanad, for example Frances Fitzgerald, resign to save taxpayers' money. There are 15 Fine Gael senators earning €70k each plus expenses. If the Seanad is powerless as he says (which it is), they won't be missed. This would be a radical move with immediate effect, as opposed to something potentially years down the line.
If he does this, maybe the public will forgive the previous wishy-washiness. He's given us a hint that he may be capable of being a pragmatic leader. He still has some way to go but he's on the right track. Like the Kilkenny red squirrel, he may finally have found his nuts.
dkenny@tribune.ie
Saturday, October 24, 2009
We all have a (toilet) role to play in economic recovery
Sunday Tribune 11 October
History is speckled with great recovery plans: there were the Young and Marshall Plans to get Europe back on its feet after the world wars. There was the Tallaght Strategy plan of the 1980s when Irish party politics was put aside for the good of the country. Then there was… The Blotto
Last April, I suggested that, instead of Nama buying toxic assets and leaving them idle, it should raffle them. We could call it the Building Lotto – or 'Blotto'. Each week, our blindfolded finance minister would pick a toxic deed from the pile in his office. This would then be Blottoed at €25 a ticket. The winner would win a half-finished development, potentially worth millions. If even half of the 80-million-strong diaspora played, that would generate €1bn a draw. 'Blotto! It could be
As crap ideas go, I argued, it was no worse than Nama. I smugly believed it couldn't be surpassed for lateral thinking. Then, last week, a schoolmistress in Cork came up with another plan: the Patch Up The Economy With Bog Roll
Not only has this eclipsed Blotto, it's also undermined my other recovery strategies such as the Adopt A Paddy Scheme. This features TV ads with a forlorn Paddy staring into his pint as the barman shouts: "Drink up, have you no homes to go to?" Paddy glumly shakes his head and the voiceover begins: "Paddy has no home to go to… since the bank repossessed it. For just €200 a day…
Or, the Roots For Your Roots Campaign. For just €10, a tree will be planted for you in Old Erin. Eighty million people multiplied by 10 = €800m. (With that many, they'd have to be bonsai trees.) Or the Be Honorary Mayor of Your Ancestral Town for A Month Scheme (€50) or the Buy a Piece of Irish Muck Scheme (€10). Or the Be Irish campaign. We could set up an agency to discover people's Irish roots, whether they have them or not, invite them over – and hold them for
On Tuesday, the Irish Independent reported that the principal of St John's, Carrigaline has a better idea. She has asked parents to give their children a toilet roll, now and again, for the school. This, she said, is part of a cost-containment plan – a statement which drew howls of righteous indignation from some editorial
Here's the thing though: although it is literally a crap idea, it is a brilliant one. Not only is it an imaginative response to the downturn, it also teaches children the value of generosity, prudence and, of course, bog roll. Michael O'Leary is said to be very impressed. Most of all, it's a new idea and all new ideas should be welcomed. The Carrigaliners have decided that, instead of just griping about money, some lateral thinking is
There were other examples of good lateral thinking last week. Offenders doing community service are to be given the task of removing graffiti from Dublin's buildings. Law-breakers cleaning up after law-breakers and saving money for the council. Why did no one think of this
On Wednesday, it was revealed that we have applied for EU funds to pay for flights home for non-nationals. People who want to leave here, but can't afford to, can soon avail of the scheme. We save on our dole bill. Good lateral
There was also an example of lateral thinking being punished by bureaucracy. Joan Ryan raised €300,000 to buy an exercise machine for disabled people after her daughter was paralysed. She saved the HSE money and now her charity has been hit with a €60k Vat
There was political lateral thinking too. Eamon Gilmore warned Siptu that Labour would not be its puppet in government. He is opposed to it striking. Gilmore was once a radical left-winger. This was a powerful, pragmatic statement. He has changed his mindset. Trade unionists must now do the
Carrigaline's example should be the new bog standard response to the downturn. The '80s had the Tallaght Strategy, this can be our Toilet Strategy: new, positive, pragmatic ideas to deal with our new problems. Community spirit like that shown in Cork won't pay off the billions we owe, but it will improve our quality of life, little by
Fianna Fáil is incapable of following this principle. Its deputies are hotwired to be self-serving. Look no further than Bertie, or John O'Donoghue, or the backbenchers revolting over expenses
It's also incapable of lateral thinking about the economy. Last week, it sat down with the Greens to refine the Nama plan. It's six months since this was first mooted. In that time we have had only two alternatives to it: a National Recovery Bank, championed by Fine Gael, and nationalisation. Six months and nobody has any fresh suggestions. What does that say about the mindset of our politicians? The schoolchildren of Carrigaline are wiping their backsides for them when it comes to dealing with the
The communities of Ireland, from Carrigaline to Killybegs, can lead our so-called leaders by example and start rebuilding, little by little. For my part, I'm posting my money-making schemes, written on loo roll, to Government Buildings this afternoon. Every little helps. Everyone has a (toilet) role to play.
dkenny@tribune.ie
History is speckled with great recovery plans: there were the Young and Marshall Plans to get Europe back on its feet after the world wars. There was the Tallaght Strategy plan of the 1980s when Irish party politics was put aside for the good of the country. Then there was… The Blotto
Last April, I suggested that, instead of Nama buying toxic assets and leaving them idle, it should raffle them. We could call it the Building Lotto – or 'Blotto'. Each week, our blindfolded finance minister would pick a toxic deed from the pile in his office. This would then be Blottoed at €25 a ticket. The winner would win a half-finished development, potentially worth millions. If even half of the 80-million-strong diaspora played, that would generate €1bn a draw. 'Blotto! It could be
As crap ideas go, I argued, it was no worse than Nama. I smugly believed it couldn't be surpassed for lateral thinking. Then, last week, a schoolmistress in Cork came up with another plan: the Patch Up The Economy With Bog Roll
Not only has this eclipsed Blotto, it's also undermined my other recovery strategies such as the Adopt A Paddy Scheme. This features TV ads with a forlorn Paddy staring into his pint as the barman shouts: "Drink up, have you no homes to go to?" Paddy glumly shakes his head and the voiceover begins: "Paddy has no home to go to… since the bank repossessed it. For just €200 a day…
Or, the Roots For Your Roots Campaign. For just €10, a tree will be planted for you in Old Erin. Eighty million people multiplied by 10 = €800m. (With that many, they'd have to be bonsai trees.) Or the Be Honorary Mayor of Your Ancestral Town for A Month Scheme (€50) or the Buy a Piece of Irish Muck Scheme (€10). Or the Be Irish campaign. We could set up an agency to discover people's Irish roots, whether they have them or not, invite them over – and hold them for
On Tuesday, the Irish Independent reported that the principal of St John's, Carrigaline has a better idea. She has asked parents to give their children a toilet roll, now and again, for the school. This, she said, is part of a cost-containment plan – a statement which drew howls of righteous indignation from some editorial
Here's the thing though: although it is literally a crap idea, it is a brilliant one. Not only is it an imaginative response to the downturn, it also teaches children the value of generosity, prudence and, of course, bog roll. Michael O'Leary is said to be very impressed. Most of all, it's a new idea and all new ideas should be welcomed. The Carrigaliners have decided that, instead of just griping about money, some lateral thinking is
There were other examples of good lateral thinking last week. Offenders doing community service are to be given the task of removing graffiti from Dublin's buildings. Law-breakers cleaning up after law-breakers and saving money for the council. Why did no one think of this
On Wednesday, it was revealed that we have applied for EU funds to pay for flights home for non-nationals. People who want to leave here, but can't afford to, can soon avail of the scheme. We save on our dole bill. Good lateral
There was also an example of lateral thinking being punished by bureaucracy. Joan Ryan raised €300,000 to buy an exercise machine for disabled people after her daughter was paralysed. She saved the HSE money and now her charity has been hit with a €60k Vat
There was political lateral thinking too. Eamon Gilmore warned Siptu that Labour would not be its puppet in government. He is opposed to it striking. Gilmore was once a radical left-winger. This was a powerful, pragmatic statement. He has changed his mindset. Trade unionists must now do the
Carrigaline's example should be the new bog standard response to the downturn. The '80s had the Tallaght Strategy, this can be our Toilet Strategy: new, positive, pragmatic ideas to deal with our new problems. Community spirit like that shown in Cork won't pay off the billions we owe, but it will improve our quality of life, little by
Fianna Fáil is incapable of following this principle. Its deputies are hotwired to be self-serving. Look no further than Bertie, or John O'Donoghue, or the backbenchers revolting over expenses
It's also incapable of lateral thinking about the economy. Last week, it sat down with the Greens to refine the Nama plan. It's six months since this was first mooted. In that time we have had only two alternatives to it: a National Recovery Bank, championed by Fine Gael, and nationalisation. Six months and nobody has any fresh suggestions. What does that say about the mindset of our politicians? The schoolchildren of Carrigaline are wiping their backsides for them when it comes to dealing with the
The communities of Ireland, from Carrigaline to Killybegs, can lead our so-called leaders by example and start rebuilding, little by little. For my part, I'm posting my money-making schemes, written on loo roll, to Government Buildings this afternoon. Every little helps. Everyone has a (toilet) role to play.
dkenny@tribune.ie
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Let's redefine treachery to get Bertie and the bankers
Sunday Tribune, 4 October
"There are llamas loose on the M50." I thought Seán O'Rourke would burst a blood vessel trying not to laugh on the News at One on Thursday. Llamas 'on the lam'. It wasn't quite "there's a moose loose aboot the hoose" but it was close.
Several hours later, the Cab (Criminal Alpacas Bureau) had rounded up the fugitive camelids. The Corpo appropriated them, valued them at €5,000 and the Australian Circus Sydney had to stump up or they were going to be sold on. It was a kind of 'Llama Nama'.
This was a perfect allegory for the week: a circus being held to ransom by clowns.
Down on O'Connell Street, protesting taxi drivers caused traffic misery in a bid to get the regulator's attention. I have a certain amount of sympathy for taximen, but not when they use us as hostages.
On Monday we had representatives of the public sector holding us to ransom over pay – at the ultimate expense of those on welfare. On Tuesday we had a farcical, raucous debate on RTé about Lisbon – both sides blackmailing us with various threats.
Along with this we had the resignation of the Fás board and yet more revelations about our politicians' expenses. 'Mé Féin' was ringmaster at Big Top Ireland and every selfish act it introduced bolstered the proposition that we're not fit to govern ourselves. We've given the country over to solipsistic jerks in the Dáil and on the ranks. Thick-skinned bullies who believe that we are here merely to do their bidding.
By Thursday evening, I had reached saturation point. Self-interest tedium had set in. I was no longer shocked or angry by selfish unions or taximen or TDs – just exasperated. You probably were too. This is a natural response to information overload. It happened with the Troubles in the North. Each report of an atrocity drew less of a response.
When I read that banker Seán FitzPatrick is entitled to free flights with Aer Lingus while having €106m in loans, I filed it under 'Nothing Would Surprise Me Anymore' and moved on.
Then, just as I was unfurling my white flag, up popped P Bartholomew Ahern TD. My knuckles whitened. On Tuesday, Bertie chaired a debate on Lisbon at the UCD Law Society where he declared himself 'neutral'. He wouldn't be taking any questions. (Bertie doesn't like questions.)
The following day, the first signs that the man who blew the boom is successfully reinventing himself appeared. The Indo gave him a soft ride in a playful report about the debate. It didn't question why a disgraced taoiseach would be so warmly welcomed by our future lawyers.
The Irish Times noted that he drew a tiny demo over fees outside the hall, while, inside, the students cheered him to the rafters. These are the same law students who will sign on as soon as they graduate, thanks to Ahern's policies.
How can we have forgotten so soon? Bertie has been hiding in plain sight since cocking up the economy. He has been walking around in his own solipsistic bubble, impervious to our anger. He knew that all he had to do was ride out the storm and eventually he would be home and dry. The public and the media would get tired of being angry with him. He was right.
Bertie brazened his way through a tribunal that nearly had to hold him upside down and shake him for answers. He told us he won money on horses and our jaws clattered on the floor. And here he was, reconstituted as elder statesman, wearing his old Teflon suit and smug grin. In any other country (bar, maybe, Libya) he would be hounded out of public life. In Ireland, he is asked to be an honest broker at debates.
Last week, Brian Lenihan said he was determined to punish those who had undermined the state. John Gormley also said that FitzPatrick would be made to pay back all his loans. A jaded public arched its eyebrow. It doesn't take a genius to see they were playing to the gallery. How can we believe that FitzPatrick will feel the consequences of his actions while Ahern is still giving us two fingers?
If Lenihan is really serious about dealing with economic wrongdoers, he could look to the Treason Act of 1939. This defines treachery in terms of warfare, but could be amended to punish those who, through financial mismanagement or wilful profiteering, threaten the survival of the state.
Such an amendment would make it easier for justice to be applied in the case of fallen politicians and bankers. Under such a definition of treachery Bertie Ahern and his Old Boys Club would be traitors. They should be punished as such.
We can complain about Siptu or taximen, but until we have made Ahern and his ilk accountable for the destruction of our economy, we can't expect them to behave in a more civic-minded fashion. 'Monkey see, monkey do', etc.
I started this column with a play on words about llamas and Nama. Here's another one: what's the difference between Nama and Bertie Ahern?
One deals with loss-making toxic assets – the other is a toxic ass that won't get lost.
Some day we might make him pay. I'm not holding my breath though.
dkenny@tribune.ie
October 4, 2009
"There are llamas loose on the M50." I thought Seán O'Rourke would burst a blood vessel trying not to laugh on the News at One on Thursday. Llamas 'on the lam'. It wasn't quite "there's a moose loose aboot the hoose" but it was close.
Several hours later, the Cab (Criminal Alpacas Bureau) had rounded up the fugitive camelids. The Corpo appropriated them, valued them at €5,000 and the Australian Circus Sydney had to stump up or they were going to be sold on. It was a kind of 'Llama Nama'.
This was a perfect allegory for the week: a circus being held to ransom by clowns.
Down on O'Connell Street, protesting taxi drivers caused traffic misery in a bid to get the regulator's attention. I have a certain amount of sympathy for taximen, but not when they use us as hostages.
On Monday we had representatives of the public sector holding us to ransom over pay – at the ultimate expense of those on welfare. On Tuesday we had a farcical, raucous debate on RTé about Lisbon – both sides blackmailing us with various threats.
Along with this we had the resignation of the Fás board and yet more revelations about our politicians' expenses. 'Mé Féin' was ringmaster at Big Top Ireland and every selfish act it introduced bolstered the proposition that we're not fit to govern ourselves. We've given the country over to solipsistic jerks in the Dáil and on the ranks. Thick-skinned bullies who believe that we are here merely to do their bidding.
By Thursday evening, I had reached saturation point. Self-interest tedium had set in. I was no longer shocked or angry by selfish unions or taximen or TDs – just exasperated. You probably were too. This is a natural response to information overload. It happened with the Troubles in the North. Each report of an atrocity drew less of a response.
When I read that banker Seán FitzPatrick is entitled to free flights with Aer Lingus while having €106m in loans, I filed it under 'Nothing Would Surprise Me Anymore' and moved on.
Then, just as I was unfurling my white flag, up popped P Bartholomew Ahern TD. My knuckles whitened. On Tuesday, Bertie chaired a debate on Lisbon at the UCD Law Society where he declared himself 'neutral'. He wouldn't be taking any questions. (Bertie doesn't like questions.)
The following day, the first signs that the man who blew the boom is successfully reinventing himself appeared. The Indo gave him a soft ride in a playful report about the debate. It didn't question why a disgraced taoiseach would be so warmly welcomed by our future lawyers.
The Irish Times noted that he drew a tiny demo over fees outside the hall, while, inside, the students cheered him to the rafters. These are the same law students who will sign on as soon as they graduate, thanks to Ahern's policies.
How can we have forgotten so soon? Bertie has been hiding in plain sight since cocking up the economy. He has been walking around in his own solipsistic bubble, impervious to our anger. He knew that all he had to do was ride out the storm and eventually he would be home and dry. The public and the media would get tired of being angry with him. He was right.
Bertie brazened his way through a tribunal that nearly had to hold him upside down and shake him for answers. He told us he won money on horses and our jaws clattered on the floor. And here he was, reconstituted as elder statesman, wearing his old Teflon suit and smug grin. In any other country (bar, maybe, Libya) he would be hounded out of public life. In Ireland, he is asked to be an honest broker at debates.
Last week, Brian Lenihan said he was determined to punish those who had undermined the state. John Gormley also said that FitzPatrick would be made to pay back all his loans. A jaded public arched its eyebrow. It doesn't take a genius to see they were playing to the gallery. How can we believe that FitzPatrick will feel the consequences of his actions while Ahern is still giving us two fingers?
If Lenihan is really serious about dealing with economic wrongdoers, he could look to the Treason Act of 1939. This defines treachery in terms of warfare, but could be amended to punish those who, through financial mismanagement or wilful profiteering, threaten the survival of the state.
Such an amendment would make it easier for justice to be applied in the case of fallen politicians and bankers. Under such a definition of treachery Bertie Ahern and his Old Boys Club would be traitors. They should be punished as such.
We can complain about Siptu or taximen, but until we have made Ahern and his ilk accountable for the destruction of our economy, we can't expect them to behave in a more civic-minded fashion. 'Monkey see, monkey do', etc.
I started this column with a play on words about llamas and Nama. Here's another one: what's the difference between Nama and Bertie Ahern?
One deals with loss-making toxic assets – the other is a toxic ass that won't get lost.
Some day we might make him pay. I'm not holding my breath though.
dkenny@tribune.ie
October 4, 2009
The ram, the bull and the elephant in the room
Sunday Tribune, 27 September
Baltimore is no stranger to buccaneers. In 1631 two boatloads from Algeria sailed into its harbour and kidnapped 100 of its citizens. The locals still talk about the incident. Last July, the town suffered another devastating naval assault which will also be recalled over pints for years to come.
A salty old sea dog from foreign shores (Dublin) allegedly banged his vessel into a yacht and badly damaged a speed boat. He didn't hang around and headed to Sherkin Island (surely not Sherkin his responsibilities?). Later, according to reports last week, Senator Ivor Callely wore what looked like a kimono when gardaí interviewed him about the ramming.
I am still pouring bleach into my mind's eye to get rid of the image.
The most shocking thing about this story was not the chain of events or even the kimono. What really stunned me was the news that Ivor Callely's a senator. A SENATOR. I thought that when he lost his Dáil seat in 2007 he had retired from politics. Now I discover he's been hiding in the Seanad.
Callely was one of the oilier members of Bertie Ahern's club. He resigned as junior transport minister in 2005 after it was discovered that a well-known construction firm had painted his house for free. Then he lost his seat and decided to run for the Seanad. He lost that election too. So, unloved by the public and unwanted for the Seanad, Callely walked away, right? Wrong, Ahern consoled him with one of his 11 discretionary seats in the upper house.
Despite having shown him the door, we are still paying for this two-time loser to have a career. He is the embodiment of political cronyism and self-interest and is another good reason for abolishing the Seanad – an institution that most of us know little about.
Here's a question: how many senators can you name? Four? Five? Here's another: what exactly does the Seanad do? One thing it does exceptionally well is hoover up money.
Since 2007, Ivor and friends have claimed €5.6m in expenses on top of their €70,000 annual salary. That's an average of €47,000 for a part-time job.
You may think that's a waste of money but Seanad leader, Donie Cassidy, doesn't agree. He told a Sunday newspaper that "no one makes any money out of politics and if anybody says they do, I would like to meet them." Senator Cassidy, may I introduce Senator Callely? He has a yacht, you know.
There have been 11 reports on Seanad reform, yet it's still there devouring money. Colm McCarthy said its abolition would save €25m. That's our €25m and most of us don't get a say in who is elected to it. Its membership is decided by the political establishment and two universities. Generally, it is a retirement home for failed politicians and a halfway house for Dáil wannabes. As a national debating parlour, Liveline is 20 times more potent and democratic.
The Seanad has no powers other than to delay bills. Actually that's not true: it has the power to shut itself down when it fancies a round of golf. In May it decided to take a day off so that Donie and Co could go on an outing to Portmarnock. There were 'wigs on the green' over that.
Some genuinely gifted people have graced the Seanad – Mary Robinson, Feargal Quinn, David Norris, or Camp David as I like to call him. They don't, however, justify its existence. It's not even like we have any great historic ties to it either: it's only been around for 72 years. Common sense says that, considering our finances, we should scrap it. It also says that if our senators were interested in the state's welfare, they would debate the Seanad's worth, conclude it's worthless and vote to abolish it. As the Seanad is powerless, the result wouldn't be binding, but the process would give them something to do between golf outings.
What a banana republic. There are hundreds of thousands on the dole and we are paying people like 'Ram' Callely to do a meaningless job. We're paying for the upkeep of his yacht.
We live in a country where John 'Bull' O'Donoghue can waste hundreds of thousands of euros and only half apologise. Where a disgraced Fás chief can walk away with a golden handshake. Where those bankers who have betrayed our country are not behind bars for treason.
Our politicians have, grudgingly, taken token pay cuts. If they want to show real solidarity with their fellow citizens they should put the Seanad's fate to a referendum. There's a painful budget coming up and heeding An Bord Snip's thoughts about this club might soften the blow. It would show a willingness to come up with some new thinking.
Admiral Callely, for his part, believes in "new thinking". He says so on his website.
"I truly believe, together, with a redoubling of our commitment and effort, and with new thinking, we will see these tough times through and restore our country to more prosperous times. I invite you to join me in [sic] this journey…"
Join you on your journey, Callely? With you at the helm? Not bloody likely.
dkenny@tribune.ie
Baltimore is no stranger to buccaneers. In 1631 two boatloads from Algeria sailed into its harbour and kidnapped 100 of its citizens. The locals still talk about the incident. Last July, the town suffered another devastating naval assault which will also be recalled over pints for years to come.
A salty old sea dog from foreign shores (Dublin) allegedly banged his vessel into a yacht and badly damaged a speed boat. He didn't hang around and headed to Sherkin Island (surely not Sherkin his responsibilities?). Later, according to reports last week, Senator Ivor Callely wore what looked like a kimono when gardaí interviewed him about the ramming.
I am still pouring bleach into my mind's eye to get rid of the image.
The most shocking thing about this story was not the chain of events or even the kimono. What really stunned me was the news that Ivor Callely's a senator. A SENATOR. I thought that when he lost his Dáil seat in 2007 he had retired from politics. Now I discover he's been hiding in the Seanad.
Callely was one of the oilier members of Bertie Ahern's club. He resigned as junior transport minister in 2005 after it was discovered that a well-known construction firm had painted his house for free. Then he lost his seat and decided to run for the Seanad. He lost that election too. So, unloved by the public and unwanted for the Seanad, Callely walked away, right? Wrong, Ahern consoled him with one of his 11 discretionary seats in the upper house.
Despite having shown him the door, we are still paying for this two-time loser to have a career. He is the embodiment of political cronyism and self-interest and is another good reason for abolishing the Seanad – an institution that most of us know little about.
Here's a question: how many senators can you name? Four? Five? Here's another: what exactly does the Seanad do? One thing it does exceptionally well is hoover up money.
Since 2007, Ivor and friends have claimed €5.6m in expenses on top of their €70,000 annual salary. That's an average of €47,000 for a part-time job.
You may think that's a waste of money but Seanad leader, Donie Cassidy, doesn't agree. He told a Sunday newspaper that "no one makes any money out of politics and if anybody says they do, I would like to meet them." Senator Cassidy, may I introduce Senator Callely? He has a yacht, you know.
There have been 11 reports on Seanad reform, yet it's still there devouring money. Colm McCarthy said its abolition would save €25m. That's our €25m and most of us don't get a say in who is elected to it. Its membership is decided by the political establishment and two universities. Generally, it is a retirement home for failed politicians and a halfway house for Dáil wannabes. As a national debating parlour, Liveline is 20 times more potent and democratic.
The Seanad has no powers other than to delay bills. Actually that's not true: it has the power to shut itself down when it fancies a round of golf. In May it decided to take a day off so that Donie and Co could go on an outing to Portmarnock. There were 'wigs on the green' over that.
Some genuinely gifted people have graced the Seanad – Mary Robinson, Feargal Quinn, David Norris, or Camp David as I like to call him. They don't, however, justify its existence. It's not even like we have any great historic ties to it either: it's only been around for 72 years. Common sense says that, considering our finances, we should scrap it. It also says that if our senators were interested in the state's welfare, they would debate the Seanad's worth, conclude it's worthless and vote to abolish it. As the Seanad is powerless, the result wouldn't be binding, but the process would give them something to do between golf outings.
What a banana republic. There are hundreds of thousands on the dole and we are paying people like 'Ram' Callely to do a meaningless job. We're paying for the upkeep of his yacht.
We live in a country where John 'Bull' O'Donoghue can waste hundreds of thousands of euros and only half apologise. Where a disgraced Fás chief can walk away with a golden handshake. Where those bankers who have betrayed our country are not behind bars for treason.
Our politicians have, grudgingly, taken token pay cuts. If they want to show real solidarity with their fellow citizens they should put the Seanad's fate to a referendum. There's a painful budget coming up and heeding An Bord Snip's thoughts about this club might soften the blow. It would show a willingness to come up with some new thinking.
Admiral Callely, for his part, believes in "new thinking". He says so on his website.
"I truly believe, together, with a redoubling of our commitment and effort, and with new thinking, we will see these tough times through and restore our country to more prosperous times. I invite you to join me in [sic] this journey…"
Join you on your journey, Callely? With you at the helm? Not bloody likely.
dkenny@tribune.ie
Friday, September 18, 2009
Nostalgia makes the hero infallible. It also masks his failures
Sunday Tribune 6 September
I was nine when my father brought me to his office for the first time. My stomach was in a knot as we drove up Nutley Lane. I was the luckiest boy in the world. Some kids' dads worked in paperclip warehouses or counted traffic cones for a living – mine worked in RTÉ .
My cheeks burned as I met people "from the telly" that afternoon. Professionally unsmiling newsreaders smiled at me and shook my hand. I discovered they even had legs or, in the case of towering Charles Mitchell, stilts. Snow-capped Don Cockburn wore bicycle clips as he saluted us from the shadow of the radio mast. Maurice O'Doherty's magnificent deadpan face creased into a grin as he traded affectionate insults with my father.
Then there was the Wanderly Wagon. It stole the show. We turned a corner and it practically "yahooed!!" at us, all showy bright paint, parked beside the slick glass TV building. Judge and O'Brien's caravan was taking a break from its adventures and I was allowed to touch it.
"Is Judge inside there?"
"He's probably in the canteen having his tea."
Over 30 years later I can still recall the excitement of seeing Wanderly Wagon glistening in the sun. Moments like those bind fathers and sons.
Last week, 1974's Safe Cross Code TV ad, featuring the Wanderlies, was relaunched. All together now: "One, look for a safe place. Two, don't hurry…" I was brought back to sunny summer holidays in Laytown. It never rains in your memories, nostalgia is a great umbrella.
Last week, the boy in the ad was 'outed' as Fianna Fáil TD, Chris Andrews. That's handy: when times are rough in the Dáil he can start singing and all will be forgiven in a swell of nostalgia.
On Thursday, his cousin Ryan Tubridy dipped into the past too. He told how Gay Byrne had advised him about the Late Late. The nostalgia chord was struck. Is he the new Gaybo? We were told that the original theme tune was returning, revamped. Nostalgia as a sales tool – if you forget that Gay's show was insufferable at times. Just because we associate something with our youth doesn't mean it was any good.
The same could be said of Oasis, who have announced their split. Last week I played 'Don't Look Back in Anger' in honour of my 20s. Memories of the '90s, and the Tiger party kicking off, came tumbling back. Nostalgia. Only the party is over and now we have Nama to cure our hangover.
As I moshed about in my past, another generation recalled theirs, watching Ted Kennedy's funeral. Poor Teddy. Bereaved brother, raconteur, peacemaker – he came good in the end. Nostalgia can make heroes of us all. Even if we have a dead girl in our car, or years wasted philandering.
Another American hero returned last week to re-run news reels in our heads. Ali, still handsome but almost entombed by disease, came to meet his cousins. "Float like a butterfly…" I remember crying when he lost to Leon Spinks in 1978.
Nostalgia makes gods out of heroes, despite their flaws. Ali nearly destroyed arch-enemy Joe Frazier with his cruel "Uncle Tom" taunts. He nearly broke his own wife too, when he flaunted his new girlfriend on TV in Manila while she watched at home. A hero with feet of clay. Cassius Clay.
Nostalgia is the opiate of the masses in post-boom Ireland. Instead of facing the present, we're constantly looking back. This is because the past is a Nama-free country. There are no repossessions when you live in a Wanderly Wagon or parking fines on our Safe Cross Code roads. There are no greasy politicians like John O'Donoghue, just prodigal statesmen like Teddy. There are only heroes, like Ali.
We turn to our childhood because it's preferable to being a grown-up at the moment. We want someone older and wiser to make things better. That's why so many people listened to Garret FitzGerald when he backed Nama last week. He represents an heroic age, spent battling recession and CJ Haughey. Garret is part Ali, Teddy and cuddly Wanderly Judge. Most of all, Garret is the nation's grandad. "If Garret says Nama is okay, then…"
Nostalgia makes the hero infallible. It also masks his failures. Garret made one of the greatest unforced errors in political history. He brought down his government by trying to tax children's shoes in 1981.
Nostalgia makes us forget the Messiah is human. Maybe that's a good thing, though. Maybe, by blinkering us, nostalgia helps us fulfil a human desire to start trusting again. Maybe a leap of faith with Garret is what we need – we're potentially knackered any way you look at it.
When I was 11, I was tall enough to finally see over the half door of the Wanderly Wagon. I climbed up, trembling with excitement. My dad watched my heart crash through the floor. There was no Judge, no O'Brien. There wasn't even a table and chairs. Just bare wood. Wanderly Wagon was a shell, an illusion.
Thirty years on, Safe Cross Judge is back on TV, teaching a future politician how to cross the road. Thirty years on, Fianna Fáil still has muppet advisers.
Considering the past, that's still one hard illusion to shatter.
dkenny@tribune.ie
September 6, 2009
I was nine when my father brought me to his office for the first time. My stomach was in a knot as we drove up Nutley Lane. I was the luckiest boy in the world. Some kids' dads worked in paperclip warehouses or counted traffic cones for a living – mine worked in RTÉ .
My cheeks burned as I met people "from the telly" that afternoon. Professionally unsmiling newsreaders smiled at me and shook my hand. I discovered they even had legs or, in the case of towering Charles Mitchell, stilts. Snow-capped Don Cockburn wore bicycle clips as he saluted us from the shadow of the radio mast. Maurice O'Doherty's magnificent deadpan face creased into a grin as he traded affectionate insults with my father.
Then there was the Wanderly Wagon. It stole the show. We turned a corner and it practically "yahooed!!" at us, all showy bright paint, parked beside the slick glass TV building. Judge and O'Brien's caravan was taking a break from its adventures and I was allowed to touch it.
"Is Judge inside there?"
"He's probably in the canteen having his tea."
Over 30 years later I can still recall the excitement of seeing Wanderly Wagon glistening in the sun. Moments like those bind fathers and sons.
Last week, 1974's Safe Cross Code TV ad, featuring the Wanderlies, was relaunched. All together now: "One, look for a safe place. Two, don't hurry…" I was brought back to sunny summer holidays in Laytown. It never rains in your memories, nostalgia is a great umbrella.
Last week, the boy in the ad was 'outed' as Fianna Fáil TD, Chris Andrews. That's handy: when times are rough in the Dáil he can start singing and all will be forgiven in a swell of nostalgia.
On Thursday, his cousin Ryan Tubridy dipped into the past too. He told how Gay Byrne had advised him about the Late Late. The nostalgia chord was struck. Is he the new Gaybo? We were told that the original theme tune was returning, revamped. Nostalgia as a sales tool – if you forget that Gay's show was insufferable at times. Just because we associate something with our youth doesn't mean it was any good.
The same could be said of Oasis, who have announced their split. Last week I played 'Don't Look Back in Anger' in honour of my 20s. Memories of the '90s, and the Tiger party kicking off, came tumbling back. Nostalgia. Only the party is over and now we have Nama to cure our hangover.
As I moshed about in my past, another generation recalled theirs, watching Ted Kennedy's funeral. Poor Teddy. Bereaved brother, raconteur, peacemaker – he came good in the end. Nostalgia can make heroes of us all. Even if we have a dead girl in our car, or years wasted philandering.
Another American hero returned last week to re-run news reels in our heads. Ali, still handsome but almost entombed by disease, came to meet his cousins. "Float like a butterfly…" I remember crying when he lost to Leon Spinks in 1978.
Nostalgia makes gods out of heroes, despite their flaws. Ali nearly destroyed arch-enemy Joe Frazier with his cruel "Uncle Tom" taunts. He nearly broke his own wife too, when he flaunted his new girlfriend on TV in Manila while she watched at home. A hero with feet of clay. Cassius Clay.
Nostalgia is the opiate of the masses in post-boom Ireland. Instead of facing the present, we're constantly looking back. This is because the past is a Nama-free country. There are no repossessions when you live in a Wanderly Wagon or parking fines on our Safe Cross Code roads. There are no greasy politicians like John O'Donoghue, just prodigal statesmen like Teddy. There are only heroes, like Ali.
We turn to our childhood because it's preferable to being a grown-up at the moment. We want someone older and wiser to make things better. That's why so many people listened to Garret FitzGerald when he backed Nama last week. He represents an heroic age, spent battling recession and CJ Haughey. Garret is part Ali, Teddy and cuddly Wanderly Judge. Most of all, Garret is the nation's grandad. "If Garret says Nama is okay, then…"
Nostalgia makes the hero infallible. It also masks his failures. Garret made one of the greatest unforced errors in political history. He brought down his government by trying to tax children's shoes in 1981.
Nostalgia makes us forget the Messiah is human. Maybe that's a good thing, though. Maybe, by blinkering us, nostalgia helps us fulfil a human desire to start trusting again. Maybe a leap of faith with Garret is what we need – we're potentially knackered any way you look at it.
When I was 11, I was tall enough to finally see over the half door of the Wanderly Wagon. I climbed up, trembling with excitement. My dad watched my heart crash through the floor. There was no Judge, no O'Brien. There wasn't even a table and chairs. Just bare wood. Wanderly Wagon was a shell, an illusion.
Thirty years on, Safe Cross Judge is back on TV, teaching a future politician how to cross the road. Thirty years on, Fianna Fáil still has muppet advisers.
Considering the past, that's still one hard illusion to shatter.
dkenny@tribune.ie
September 6, 2009
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Want to redeem yourself Harney? That'll be €7m
Sunday Tribune 30 August
Here's a trivia question: which minister was first to impose a smoke ban on Dublin? Micheál Martin or Mary Harney? Here's a clue: it was a no-brainer of a decision.
If you're over 30 you'll remember how thick smog used to choke Dublin's streets on still winter evenings. As a teenager working for the Irish Press; I used to dread those nights when it turned Burgh Quay into a horror movie set. My first 'job' was death-notice messenger, which was macabre enough without added atmosphere. Undertakers would phone in their notices, ask for a copy to be sent to the Indo and I would be flung, jibbering, out the door with a ream of print-outs.
Eight times a night I crossed the Liffey with a list of dead people under my arm, terrified that some nutjob would lunge out of the smog at me. Then, in 1990, Harney banned 'smoking' bituminous coal and the smog vanished forever. It was one of her best achievements.
Nineteen years later, she says she wants to ban sunbeds. Getting rid of something that's bad for you is a "no-brainer", she said last week.
Her old friend, Bertie Ahern, doesn't believe in getting rid of something that's bad for us – namely himself. He's indicated that he will stand again if there is a snap election, to make up FF numbers. To Bertie this is a no-brainer. He's right – only the brainless would think it a good idea to put him back in the Dáil.
Ahern, the man who blew the boom, is proof that all political careers end in failure. The same may be said of Harney. She started out so well though. When she was expelled from Fianna Fáil in 1985 for defying Haughey over the Anglo Irish agreement, many of us thought, 'Here's a woman with integrity.' We saw the formation of the PDs and thought, 'New liberal party with integrity. Looking good,' and then watched as Fianna Fáil slowly enveloped it, like a grubby smog.
The first signs of Harney reverting to FF type came in 2001 when she used a government plane to fly her to the opening of a friend's off-licence in Manorhamilton. (She's since been embroiled in the Fás expenses scandal.) Despite this, many still had high hopes for her when she took over Health in 2004.
Her first move was to set up the HSE. Two years later, the Euro Health Consumer Index ranked our healthcare 26th in Europe – out of 26 countries. In 2008, we were ranked 11 out of 31. So some improvement there, and there are others to be fair. Such as in monitoring of standards and infrastructure. The overhaul of St Vincent's is a good example of the latter in Dublin. Saying that, Loughlinstown is terrifying.
Standards, in general, are getting better in our hospitals. The problem is getting into one. Waiting lists are a disgrace. For instance, don't get a hernia in Tallaght. There is an 11-month wait to get it repaired at Tallaght hospital. By comparison, in Britain, the maximum wait for any procedure is 18 weeks. For suspected cancer it's two.
Wrap your children in cotton wool, too. Last Wednesday, Crumlin said it didn't know when the 25-bed ward and operating theatre there would reopen – it's been closed since May.
Other areas are dreadful too: stroke, mental health, cystic fibrosis care… The HSE is still an overstaffed, incompetent mess and responsibility for this lies with Harney.
Last week, Labour's Jan O'Sullivan said Harney has "lost interest in the job. She hides behind the HSE and doesn't want to engage with people." When she does, her "dictatorial approach backs people into corners" and makes matters worse.
All the signs point to this. Harney's best days are behind her. Her party's dead. Health – the job no one wants – is now a sinecure for her, like Ahern's Dáil seat is one for him. They both share the same breathtaking level of arrogance and self-entitlement.
Occasionally, she ventures out of Fortress HSE and makes a pronouncement. Last week it was about sunbeds. Harney told Lance Armstrong's cancer conference that she was looking into banning them. She was talking rubbish. In 2006 she said she would introduce legislation banning children from using them – and it still hasn't arrived. How long would it take her to bring in an all-out ban? She could do it tomorrow, if she really was interested. Her department, by the way, doesn't even fund any skin cancer awareness campaigns.
Harney made a fool of herself last week. The international reaction to her halting of the €7m cervical-cancer vaccine scheme was mortifying. She is looking for cuts of €800m from the HSE and can't spare €7m to save lives. Up to 80 women a year die from cervical cancer. What is the cost of treating a cancer patient, minister?
All political careers end in failure. Some will remember Harney as the minister who banned smog. All of us will remember her for failing to protect Irish women.
Harney has become an arrogant, cantankerous journeywoman. She's not stupid – she knows she can redeem herself. The only thing standing in her way is pride. And a paltry €7m.
It's a no-brainer, Mary.
dkenny@tribune.ie
August 30, 2009
Here's a trivia question: which minister was first to impose a smoke ban on Dublin? Micheál Martin or Mary Harney? Here's a clue: it was a no-brainer of a decision.
If you're over 30 you'll remember how thick smog used to choke Dublin's streets on still winter evenings. As a teenager working for the Irish Press; I used to dread those nights when it turned Burgh Quay into a horror movie set. My first 'job' was death-notice messenger, which was macabre enough without added atmosphere. Undertakers would phone in their notices, ask for a copy to be sent to the Indo and I would be flung, jibbering, out the door with a ream of print-outs.
Eight times a night I crossed the Liffey with a list of dead people under my arm, terrified that some nutjob would lunge out of the smog at me. Then, in 1990, Harney banned 'smoking' bituminous coal and the smog vanished forever. It was one of her best achievements.
Nineteen years later, she says she wants to ban sunbeds. Getting rid of something that's bad for you is a "no-brainer", she said last week.
Her old friend, Bertie Ahern, doesn't believe in getting rid of something that's bad for us – namely himself. He's indicated that he will stand again if there is a snap election, to make up FF numbers. To Bertie this is a no-brainer. He's right – only the brainless would think it a good idea to put him back in the Dáil.
Ahern, the man who blew the boom, is proof that all political careers end in failure. The same may be said of Harney. She started out so well though. When she was expelled from Fianna Fáil in 1985 for defying Haughey over the Anglo Irish agreement, many of us thought, 'Here's a woman with integrity.' We saw the formation of the PDs and thought, 'New liberal party with integrity. Looking good,' and then watched as Fianna Fáil slowly enveloped it, like a grubby smog.
The first signs of Harney reverting to FF type came in 2001 when she used a government plane to fly her to the opening of a friend's off-licence in Manorhamilton. (She's since been embroiled in the Fás expenses scandal.) Despite this, many still had high hopes for her when she took over Health in 2004.
Her first move was to set up the HSE. Two years later, the Euro Health Consumer Index ranked our healthcare 26th in Europe – out of 26 countries. In 2008, we were ranked 11 out of 31. So some improvement there, and there are others to be fair. Such as in monitoring of standards and infrastructure. The overhaul of St Vincent's is a good example of the latter in Dublin. Saying that, Loughlinstown is terrifying.
Standards, in general, are getting better in our hospitals. The problem is getting into one. Waiting lists are a disgrace. For instance, don't get a hernia in Tallaght. There is an 11-month wait to get it repaired at Tallaght hospital. By comparison, in Britain, the maximum wait for any procedure is 18 weeks. For suspected cancer it's two.
Wrap your children in cotton wool, too. Last Wednesday, Crumlin said it didn't know when the 25-bed ward and operating theatre there would reopen – it's been closed since May.
Other areas are dreadful too: stroke, mental health, cystic fibrosis care… The HSE is still an overstaffed, incompetent mess and responsibility for this lies with Harney.
Last week, Labour's Jan O'Sullivan said Harney has "lost interest in the job. She hides behind the HSE and doesn't want to engage with people." When she does, her "dictatorial approach backs people into corners" and makes matters worse.
All the signs point to this. Harney's best days are behind her. Her party's dead. Health – the job no one wants – is now a sinecure for her, like Ahern's Dáil seat is one for him. They both share the same breathtaking level of arrogance and self-entitlement.
Occasionally, she ventures out of Fortress HSE and makes a pronouncement. Last week it was about sunbeds. Harney told Lance Armstrong's cancer conference that she was looking into banning them. She was talking rubbish. In 2006 she said she would introduce legislation banning children from using them – and it still hasn't arrived. How long would it take her to bring in an all-out ban? She could do it tomorrow, if she really was interested. Her department, by the way, doesn't even fund any skin cancer awareness campaigns.
Harney made a fool of herself last week. The international reaction to her halting of the €7m cervical-cancer vaccine scheme was mortifying. She is looking for cuts of €800m from the HSE and can't spare €7m to save lives. Up to 80 women a year die from cervical cancer. What is the cost of treating a cancer patient, minister?
All political careers end in failure. Some will remember Harney as the minister who banned smog. All of us will remember her for failing to protect Irish women.
Harney has become an arrogant, cantankerous journeywoman. She's not stupid – she knows she can redeem herself. The only thing standing in her way is pride. And a paltry €7m.
It's a no-brainer, Mary.
dkenny@tribune.ie
August 30, 2009
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