Sunday Tribune 7 June
Money is the first thing to greet you as you approach a churchyard: it calls from the collection tin being rattled at the gate.
Money is the first thing to greet you as you pass the font, forehead dripping. Catholic newspapers for sale – and "every Catholic home should have one".
Money is everywhere inside the church. The candles near the altar can be bought for a special intention. The slot in the wall is for the parish dues. The second collection is for the upkeep of the priests.
Money is there when you first enter the spirit of the church. Silver is given for christenings. Money is the first thing you hope for when you receive First Communion and are confirmed. A Catholic childhood is marked by this trinity of religious landmarks and windfalls. Adulthood is marked by the trinity of births, deaths and marriages, requiring gifts and donations to the church. Irish Catholicism is awash with money and we are bred to receive it as children and give it back as adults. Only the church gets to keep it.
A Catholic life is mapped out by trinities. A Catholic country is too.
Those of us under 50 didn't know the trinity that once ruled Ireland: the church, the banks and the state's biggest party, Fianna Fáil. We do know, however, what it's like to watch it falling from grace.
The banks have been falling for months, the church – by which I mean the entire organisation from bishop to brother – has been damned by the Ryan report, and Fianna Fáil have been flayed at the polls. Natural justice is prevailing.
Fianna Fáil were in power for most of the 1950s and all of the '60s, that dark period investigated by the Ryan report. It colluded, one way or another, with the church in the abuse of children. In 2002, it colluded again and capped the orders' liability at €127m while they lied about the extent of the abuse. The man with ultimate responsibility for that deal was taoiseach Bertie Ahern, a visibly devout Catholic.
Last Thursday, Fianna Fáil again spoke to the orders, who said they were willing to make "substantial additional financial contributions". The government must wait two weeks to learn how much that will be. It hopes it will equal the state's contribution.
Instead of finding a legal way to undo the black knot tied by Ahern, the government is sitting on its hands waiting to be dictated to by the religious orders. It's waiting outside the head brother's door, hoping it won't get smacked again.
This government has looked after its banker friends with billions and is still kow-towing to the cloth. It should put a gun to the church's head and make it pay for all the 'redress'. It's as straightforward as that: drag the church to its knees and punish it.
Those are hard words to type. I was baptised a Catholic. To have faith and to lose it is worse than never having believed. The realisation that the church which taught you how to pray at night was actually the monster under the bed is almost too hard to comprehend.
Twice daily, the church reminds us of its presence. At lunch and teatime, God's dinner bell rings out for the Angelus. With every clang of the bell, we are reminded that this is a Catholic country – and reminded of the sins perpetrated by our predecessors.
And here is the point: none of this is my fault. My generation is not responsible. We are paying for other people's sins. While perverts are at liberty, the victims are, rightly, seeking compensation. Thanks to Fianna Fáil, we are picking up the tab.
I want the victims of abuse to be properly cared for, but I am not willing to pay for it while the church can. It's rotten with money – we are not, thanks to Fianna Fáil's developer friends. The state that existed back then is gone. Today's generation should not be sharing its guilt. I would rather bankrupt the church than accept any of the blame for what Ryan revealed. The church must rip up Ahern's 2002 deal and prostrate itself before its victims. It should not be given two weeks to decide what contributions it wants to make.
There are many good people in the church. This must be heartbreaking for them. They would still be good people even if there was no church. Their contribution should not be forgotten.
Eighty six per cent of us said we were Catholics at the last census. Many of us are really just à la carte, picking the bits we like – weddings, Christenings – and ignoring the rest. After Ryan, how many can stomach being associated with the church, even on that basis? A similar question can be asked of Fianna Fáil's 'rump' supporters. After all the revelations, how could you vote for it last Friday?
According to a Newstalk poll, 73% of us want a general election. Fianna Fáil must give it to us now.
For the past month, their canvassers have vied with the collectors for Catholics' attention at the church gates – a reminder of the old trinity of politics, piety and the sound of money.
Today, just the charity workers remain – without politicians to hinder their work.
dkenny@tribune.ie
June 7, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Monday, June 1, 2009
Chance to rip the weeds of cronyism out of local politics
Sunday Tribune 31 May
"The camera never lies." Now there's a redundant cliché. The camera frequently lies and in this post-digital age, can seldom be trusted. Especially when it comes to politics. Just look at the election posters: all those huge inflated heads and not a blemish in sight. Politicians being strung up on lamp-posts shouldn't look this good.
Occasionally, the political camera lets its guard down and tells the truth. The expression on former spin doctor Frank Dunlop's face last Tuesday wasn't the result of a touch-up. No one had digitally enhanced that look of fear as he entered court for sentencing.
It was a powerful image. Here was the man with the brown envelopes who facilitated Dublin's debasement by grubby little men with greasy fingers. Here was the property developers' bagman who helped undermine our faith in democracy and, ultimately, lead us here to Nama-land. Here he was, brought down and about to be jailed.
Now consider another picture. It's of a grey-haired man with a pale, worn face. If it's been airbrushed, then they missed a line or two. It's smiling but is tough and not to be messed with. The eyes, however, betray sensitivity as they stare down from the lamp-post near the Dáil. Writer Mannix Flynn, former bête noire, is running for a seat on the same council that Dunlop bought off in the 1990s.
While Dunlop enjoyed a life of money and influence, Flynn spent most of his suffering. He was a slum boy, destined to be crushed by the authorities. At the age of three he had been singled out as "trouble" by a state-paid psychiatrist. How can a three-year-old be "trouble?"
By 14 he had run the gauntlet of industrial schools, including Letterfrack, where he was tortured for two years. For all his adult life he has railed outside the institutions of the state that helped scar him. Now he is looking for the chance to effect change from within.
On Wednesday he spoke to Newstalk's Eamon Keane about the Ryan report into child abuse. It was a compelling piece of radio: brutally honest, intelligent, angry and sad. His message is that he wants to bring accountability to local office and give hope to the "disenfranchised". It's hard to doubt his credentials.
His ideas won't be to everybody's taste. For example, he suggests a pilot scheme for the controlled distribution of heroin to addicts. This won't ever happen, but at least he's stirring up debate. That's his strength: making a difference by challenging the status quo.
There are others like him. In my own home patch of Dun Laoghaire, Richard Boyd Barrett has taken permanent residence up the nose of the establishment. In 2005, he was at the helm when residents from all backgrounds 'blockaded' the local Baths. The council had agreed a €140m private development plan to build apartments on the site. The march stopped the deal and won the leftist Boyd Barrett many admirers in the traditionally Fine Gael area.
Labour councillor Jane Dillon Byrne later requested that double glazing be installed in the council chamber – to keep out the noise of his protesters.
All across the country there are decent candidates like these two, favouring community over clientelism. In fairness, they are not all independents and some are suffering for that preference. Dun Laoghaire's Fianna Fáil councillor Cormac Devlin is widely respected as hardworking and conscientious. He has also been critical of issues such as Minister Mary Hanafin's scrapping of the Christmas welfare bonus. No surprise then that Hanafin is trying to shaft him in favour of her personal assistant, Peter O'Brien. More Fianna Fáil cronyism overriding the interests of the people.
According to a Newstalk poll last week, only 0.5% said they would vote for a candidate because his/her family was involved in politics. Dynastic politics – and by extension cronyism – is out of fashion. Hanafin, take note.
On a daily basis, we discover more about how our government has been mismanaged. At local level as well as national. In my own area, the council was so inept that for a seven-month period in 2006, not one single motion was debated. The entire system needs shaking up.
When we go to polls on Friday we have a unique opportunity. We can make this more than a de facto referendum by setting aside party politics and choosing candidates genuinely committed to the greater good. We can throw out the nod-and-wink merchants who will try to buy us off with personal favours and then do dodgy deals with developers. This is a real chance to rip the weeds of cronyism out of local politics. This is a chance to make local government the training ground for national government, where we can nurture change from the ground up.
We need to encourage mavericks like Mannix Flynn. They can help rescue us from the cynicism created by Frank Dunlop's political crimes. Next weekend, we can replace that picture of the broken bagman entering court with another – a snapshot of our generation pulling itself away from the past.
There may be another picture too. Of a decent man, crucified by church and state, picking up his cross – and successfully battering down the door of City Hall with it.
dkenny@tribune.ie
"The camera never lies." Now there's a redundant cliché. The camera frequently lies and in this post-digital age, can seldom be trusted. Especially when it comes to politics. Just look at the election posters: all those huge inflated heads and not a blemish in sight. Politicians being strung up on lamp-posts shouldn't look this good.
Occasionally, the political camera lets its guard down and tells the truth. The expression on former spin doctor Frank Dunlop's face last Tuesday wasn't the result of a touch-up. No one had digitally enhanced that look of fear as he entered court for sentencing.
It was a powerful image. Here was the man with the brown envelopes who facilitated Dublin's debasement by grubby little men with greasy fingers. Here was the property developers' bagman who helped undermine our faith in democracy and, ultimately, lead us here to Nama-land. Here he was, brought down and about to be jailed.
Now consider another picture. It's of a grey-haired man with a pale, worn face. If it's been airbrushed, then they missed a line or two. It's smiling but is tough and not to be messed with. The eyes, however, betray sensitivity as they stare down from the lamp-post near the Dáil. Writer Mannix Flynn, former bête noire, is running for a seat on the same council that Dunlop bought off in the 1990s.
While Dunlop enjoyed a life of money and influence, Flynn spent most of his suffering. He was a slum boy, destined to be crushed by the authorities. At the age of three he had been singled out as "trouble" by a state-paid psychiatrist. How can a three-year-old be "trouble?"
By 14 he had run the gauntlet of industrial schools, including Letterfrack, where he was tortured for two years. For all his adult life he has railed outside the institutions of the state that helped scar him. Now he is looking for the chance to effect change from within.
On Wednesday he spoke to Newstalk's Eamon Keane about the Ryan report into child abuse. It was a compelling piece of radio: brutally honest, intelligent, angry and sad. His message is that he wants to bring accountability to local office and give hope to the "disenfranchised". It's hard to doubt his credentials.
His ideas won't be to everybody's taste. For example, he suggests a pilot scheme for the controlled distribution of heroin to addicts. This won't ever happen, but at least he's stirring up debate. That's his strength: making a difference by challenging the status quo.
There are others like him. In my own home patch of Dun Laoghaire, Richard Boyd Barrett has taken permanent residence up the nose of the establishment. In 2005, he was at the helm when residents from all backgrounds 'blockaded' the local Baths. The council had agreed a €140m private development plan to build apartments on the site. The march stopped the deal and won the leftist Boyd Barrett many admirers in the traditionally Fine Gael area.
Labour councillor Jane Dillon Byrne later requested that double glazing be installed in the council chamber – to keep out the noise of his protesters.
All across the country there are decent candidates like these two, favouring community over clientelism. In fairness, they are not all independents and some are suffering for that preference. Dun Laoghaire's Fianna Fáil councillor Cormac Devlin is widely respected as hardworking and conscientious. He has also been critical of issues such as Minister Mary Hanafin's scrapping of the Christmas welfare bonus. No surprise then that Hanafin is trying to shaft him in favour of her personal assistant, Peter O'Brien. More Fianna Fáil cronyism overriding the interests of the people.
According to a Newstalk poll last week, only 0.5% said they would vote for a candidate because his/her family was involved in politics. Dynastic politics – and by extension cronyism – is out of fashion. Hanafin, take note.
On a daily basis, we discover more about how our government has been mismanaged. At local level as well as national. In my own area, the council was so inept that for a seven-month period in 2006, not one single motion was debated. The entire system needs shaking up.
When we go to polls on Friday we have a unique opportunity. We can make this more than a de facto referendum by setting aside party politics and choosing candidates genuinely committed to the greater good. We can throw out the nod-and-wink merchants who will try to buy us off with personal favours and then do dodgy deals with developers. This is a real chance to rip the weeds of cronyism out of local politics. This is a chance to make local government the training ground for national government, where we can nurture change from the ground up.
We need to encourage mavericks like Mannix Flynn. They can help rescue us from the cynicism created by Frank Dunlop's political crimes. Next weekend, we can replace that picture of the broken bagman entering court with another – a snapshot of our generation pulling itself away from the past.
There may be another picture too. Of a decent man, crucified by church and state, picking up his cross – and successfully battering down the door of City Hall with it.
dkenny@tribune.ie
Get outta Dodge, Sheriff, before you get us all shot
Sunday Tribune 24 May
Imagine this column is a saloon in the Old West. The swing doors burst open. An old timer rushes in, wearing a racoon hat and long-johns, hollering: "Gunfight! There's a-gonna be a gunfight!"
Two lawmen are heading for a showdown. One stands for the big ranchers and is gathering a posse of new laws to clean up Newspaperville. His name is Dermot Ahern. The other is a moustachioed hero standing for its townsfolk (journalists). His name is Gerry 'The Sheriff' O'Carroll.
The Sheriff is a former garda who writes a column for the Evening Herald. He's not a fan of minister Ahern and, like the rest of us, has been kicking him over his privacy legislation, which is before the Dáil.
A part of Ahern's Defamation Bill, this legislation forbids the "disclosure of documentation" – including documents that are in the public domain such as planning applications. It also prohibits "stalking/harassing" of possible wrongdoers which will hamper the work of our latter-day Veronica Guerins.
It says invasions of privacy are justified only when fair, in good faith or in the public interest. There's a conundrum. If a reporter is halted by an injunction before he/she has completed their investigations, they have no way of proving justification. Therefore they have broken the rules. This legislation – which Gerry and the rest of us rail against – will take away the basic tools the journalist uses to expose corruption.
There's no denying that the media sometimes crosses the line. Last year, Dubliner Michelle Herrity was awarded €90,000 against Associated Newspapers over articles in Ireland on Sunday in 2003 about her relationship with a priest. These were based on the illegal tapping of her phone calls and, according to the High Court, were an unjustified breach of her right to privacy.
Each time something like this happens, it undermines the argument that we don't need a privacy law. It plays into our politicians' hands. Here's a statistic. According to Dublin City University research, two-thirds of all privacy complaints over the past 25 years came from public figures – mainly politicians. They want the new law more than anybody else.
Two weeks ago, the Herald led with pictures of Ryan Tubridy walking with his new partner. They had been taken by an opportunistic dogwalker and sold to an agency. This wasn't as bad as phone-tapping but Tubridy was, understandably, unhappy. He believed it was mean-spirited for someone to take a picture of him from behind a tree and sell it.
His anger annoyed the Sheriff who felt the papers were justified in publishing the pictures and Tubridy had no right to complain. In Wednesday's Herald, he shot "the kid" down. Bang, bang. Tubridy was disingenuous about the pictures and knows that publicity is the oxygen of celebrity. Bang, bang. "If you look at his own show on a Saturday night, it is all celebrity tittle tattle… The kind of stuff he's giving off [sic] about." Bang.
The piece was peppered with lines such as "The kid's angry" and "Listen, kid, grow up and enter the world of the big boys." Bang, bang.
According to Gerry, Gay and Pat had no problem with being in the public eye. I don't ever recall them being photographed strolling through the woods, together or otherwise. They were allowed, in the main, to keep a lid on their private lives.
Still, according to Gerry, this erosion of Tubridy's privacy was the price of getting the Late Late. Actually, the pictures were taken before Tubridy had been given the gig. Would they still have been published if he hadn't landed it?
As a journalist, Gerry said, Tubridy should know better than to give "cannon fodder" to privacy-law-toting Dermot Ahern. Take your medicine, kid.
The Sheriff is relatively new to journalism. Hearing him dispensing advice to "the kid" was beyond cringeworthy.
He's missed a few key points about Tubridy. He's not part of the micro-celebrity herd. He doesn't seek out publicity in the same way as Rosanna Davison or Glenda Gilson, or Brian Ormond and his girlfriend do. He doesn't go to every launch or talk about his 'love life'. He doesn't want to play the Diary game. Fair enough.
As publicity guru Max Clifford said about the pictures last week, "If he hasn't courted publicity for his own ends, it's not justified." Tubridy, as Late Late host, will have to sacrifice some privacy, but not to the extent that he should have to check under bushes for cameras. Gay and Pat never had to do that.
Publishing those pictures was an invasion of privacy, plain and simple. I've been a tabloid hack myself and so have no right to be too judgmental about that. What sticks in the craw, however, is O'Carroll's pompous lecture about press freedom. How Tubridy was giving "cannon fodder" to Ahern by complaining.
Hypocritical statements like that by O'Carroll only strengthen the minister's position. If you're going to invade someone's privacy while prattling on about press freedom, then at least have a decent reason for doing it. Highlighting wrongdoing, for example.
Stop shooting your mouth off about press freedom, Sheriff.
You're just shooting yourself – and the rest of us – in the foot.
dkenny@tribune.ie
Imagine this column is a saloon in the Old West. The swing doors burst open. An old timer rushes in, wearing a racoon hat and long-johns, hollering: "Gunfight! There's a-gonna be a gunfight!"
Two lawmen are heading for a showdown. One stands for the big ranchers and is gathering a posse of new laws to clean up Newspaperville. His name is Dermot Ahern. The other is a moustachioed hero standing for its townsfolk (journalists). His name is Gerry 'The Sheriff' O'Carroll.
The Sheriff is a former garda who writes a column for the Evening Herald. He's not a fan of minister Ahern and, like the rest of us, has been kicking him over his privacy legislation, which is before the Dáil.
A part of Ahern's Defamation Bill, this legislation forbids the "disclosure of documentation" – including documents that are in the public domain such as planning applications. It also prohibits "stalking/harassing" of possible wrongdoers which will hamper the work of our latter-day Veronica Guerins.
It says invasions of privacy are justified only when fair, in good faith or in the public interest. There's a conundrum. If a reporter is halted by an injunction before he/she has completed their investigations, they have no way of proving justification. Therefore they have broken the rules. This legislation – which Gerry and the rest of us rail against – will take away the basic tools the journalist uses to expose corruption.
There's no denying that the media sometimes crosses the line. Last year, Dubliner Michelle Herrity was awarded €90,000 against Associated Newspapers over articles in Ireland on Sunday in 2003 about her relationship with a priest. These were based on the illegal tapping of her phone calls and, according to the High Court, were an unjustified breach of her right to privacy.
Each time something like this happens, it undermines the argument that we don't need a privacy law. It plays into our politicians' hands. Here's a statistic. According to Dublin City University research, two-thirds of all privacy complaints over the past 25 years came from public figures – mainly politicians. They want the new law more than anybody else.
Two weeks ago, the Herald led with pictures of Ryan Tubridy walking with his new partner. They had been taken by an opportunistic dogwalker and sold to an agency. This wasn't as bad as phone-tapping but Tubridy was, understandably, unhappy. He believed it was mean-spirited for someone to take a picture of him from behind a tree and sell it.
His anger annoyed the Sheriff who felt the papers were justified in publishing the pictures and Tubridy had no right to complain. In Wednesday's Herald, he shot "the kid" down. Bang, bang. Tubridy was disingenuous about the pictures and knows that publicity is the oxygen of celebrity. Bang, bang. "If you look at his own show on a Saturday night, it is all celebrity tittle tattle… The kind of stuff he's giving off [sic] about." Bang.
The piece was peppered with lines such as "The kid's angry" and "Listen, kid, grow up and enter the world of the big boys." Bang, bang.
According to Gerry, Gay and Pat had no problem with being in the public eye. I don't ever recall them being photographed strolling through the woods, together or otherwise. They were allowed, in the main, to keep a lid on their private lives.
Still, according to Gerry, this erosion of Tubridy's privacy was the price of getting the Late Late. Actually, the pictures were taken before Tubridy had been given the gig. Would they still have been published if he hadn't landed it?
As a journalist, Gerry said, Tubridy should know better than to give "cannon fodder" to privacy-law-toting Dermot Ahern. Take your medicine, kid.
The Sheriff is relatively new to journalism. Hearing him dispensing advice to "the kid" was beyond cringeworthy.
He's missed a few key points about Tubridy. He's not part of the micro-celebrity herd. He doesn't seek out publicity in the same way as Rosanna Davison or Glenda Gilson, or Brian Ormond and his girlfriend do. He doesn't go to every launch or talk about his 'love life'. He doesn't want to play the Diary game. Fair enough.
As publicity guru Max Clifford said about the pictures last week, "If he hasn't courted publicity for his own ends, it's not justified." Tubridy, as Late Late host, will have to sacrifice some privacy, but not to the extent that he should have to check under bushes for cameras. Gay and Pat never had to do that.
Publishing those pictures was an invasion of privacy, plain and simple. I've been a tabloid hack myself and so have no right to be too judgmental about that. What sticks in the craw, however, is O'Carroll's pompous lecture about press freedom. How Tubridy was giving "cannon fodder" to Ahern by complaining.
Hypocritical statements like that by O'Carroll only strengthen the minister's position. If you're going to invade someone's privacy while prattling on about press freedom, then at least have a decent reason for doing it. Highlighting wrongdoing, for example.
Stop shooting your mouth off about press freedom, Sheriff.
You're just shooting yourself – and the rest of us – in the foot.
dkenny@tribune.ie
Jenny O'Connell proves hope is lurking everywhere
Sunday Tribune 17 May
A friend of mine once had a rare audience with punk legend Joey Ramone. Joey was, as always, sporting his trademark sunglasses. It was late at night after a gig at Dublin's TV Club and Tony asked him, jokingly, if he ever took them off.
"No, man," replied Joey.
"But can you actually see anything through them?"
Joey shrugged, implying the negative. Tony persevered.
"Does that not bother you?"
"Look, man," said Joey, his pupils hidden behind two almost-opaque walls of glass, "there's not a HELL of a lot I WANT to see out there."
It was an interesting world view – or, rather, lack of it. I was reminded of it last week when I read the profoundly touching story of Dublin woman, Jenny O'Connell, who has had her sight partially restored after 46 years. Jenny went blind when she was 11 and will soon, hopefully, be able to see her husband and children. She will see a lot of other new things too, which must be exciting, and daunting, for her.
As Jenny was entering into darkness in 1963, Ireland was emerging from it. Kennedy visited, the showbands jived and Sean Lemass was lowering unemployment. The queues Jenny may have seen for the Mail Boat were shrinking. She won't see any today because there is no escape route for the 380,000 unemployed. She will, however, be able to see what a modern dole queue looks like: multi-racial and full of highly-skilled people.
Among the many coloured faces Jenny will see here now are those of the Orange People – 1960s' freckles are extinct. This month, scores of Irish children are being sprayed-tanned orange for their Communions. These little tangerines may grow up to become the Jaffa-hued models who inhabit the diary pages like Rosanna 'Rubex' Davison and her boyfriend, Whasisname. Are they on? Are they off? Will they please get lost? Jenny can now fully appreciate the fake-tan-deep, appearance-obsessed vacuousness of post-Tiger Ireland.
She can also put a face on Brian Cowen and see those voluptuous, bee-stung lips mouthing phrases like "what's the point?". That was his despairing response to heckling over his handling of the Monageer tragedy report. Like the rest of us, Jenny will not be able to read all of the report as it's been censored. She can, however, see photographs of the little Dunne girls who were killed by their dad.
Along with Cowen's mouth, she can also marvel at some necks: those of Ireland's developers. They are setting up a federation to dictate how the National Asset Management Agency operates. Developers created most of the ugly landscapes Jenny is seeing for the first time. Now they are forming a union to fight the state. Imagine the first AGM: all of them in one room. Hopefully the roof will cave in.
In 1960s' Ireland, the bank manager was cock-of-the-walk. Jenny nearly got to see one of those cockerels being egged at AIB's EGM last week. Pensioner Gary Keogh said he snapped when supremo Dermot Gleeson told a shareholder to "sit down while I'm speaking". He flung eggs at the stage and was 'whisked' away by security. What was that old phrase about never teaching 'your granny how to suck eggs'?
Jenny will see her first Dart, Luas and euro. She will see her first Limerick gang funeral. She can watch all the bad news she likes on digital TV. She can sample other digital treats like generic text messages ('CU L8R'?) and the internet at its clinical, automated worst. From tomorrow, Ryanair passengers will have to check in online and print their boarding passes at home, or be hit with a €40 penalty. Jenny has children to do this for her. Ryanair apparently doesn't care about those who don't.
Joey Ramone said there wasn't a hell of a lot he wanted to see. If the above examples were all that were on offer, you'd have to agree. They aren't.
Along with the new sights, there are old ones for Jenny to rediscover. She's from Dun Laoghaire. In time, she will be able to walk with her blind husband along the seafront there on a sunny day, like last Tuesday. She can describe what she sees to him. The colour of the sea foaming over the walls of the Fortyfoot at Sandycove. A nutter in a rickety boat see-sawing through the swell to Bulloch Harbour. People sheltering from the breeze in the lee of the wall at the half-moon-shaped beach. Sunburn glowing above the collars of old folk sunbathing with their coats on. The Mr Whippy van arriving, children paddling, dogs chasing waves. Someone poking a jellyfish with a stick.
She can stop in Fitzgerald's pub and admire the murals or watch, for the first time, a glass of stout slowly change from marble to jet black. She can describe the bubbling, fleeting happiness of a sunny day in our odd little country. How we savour that small morsel of happiness and declare it a feast.
Maybe, someday soon, she'll read this article to her husband. I hope she does, because I'd like to thank her here for lifting people's spirits with her story.
Thank you, Mrs O'Connell. Life sucks right now, but you've proved that hope is lurking everywhere.
dkenny@tribune.ie
A friend of mine once had a rare audience with punk legend Joey Ramone. Joey was, as always, sporting his trademark sunglasses. It was late at night after a gig at Dublin's TV Club and Tony asked him, jokingly, if he ever took them off.
"No, man," replied Joey.
"But can you actually see anything through them?"
Joey shrugged, implying the negative. Tony persevered.
"Does that not bother you?"
"Look, man," said Joey, his pupils hidden behind two almost-opaque walls of glass, "there's not a HELL of a lot I WANT to see out there."
It was an interesting world view – or, rather, lack of it. I was reminded of it last week when I read the profoundly touching story of Dublin woman, Jenny O'Connell, who has had her sight partially restored after 46 years. Jenny went blind when she was 11 and will soon, hopefully, be able to see her husband and children. She will see a lot of other new things too, which must be exciting, and daunting, for her.
As Jenny was entering into darkness in 1963, Ireland was emerging from it. Kennedy visited, the showbands jived and Sean Lemass was lowering unemployment. The queues Jenny may have seen for the Mail Boat were shrinking. She won't see any today because there is no escape route for the 380,000 unemployed. She will, however, be able to see what a modern dole queue looks like: multi-racial and full of highly-skilled people.
Among the many coloured faces Jenny will see here now are those of the Orange People – 1960s' freckles are extinct. This month, scores of Irish children are being sprayed-tanned orange for their Communions. These little tangerines may grow up to become the Jaffa-hued models who inhabit the diary pages like Rosanna 'Rubex' Davison and her boyfriend, Whasisname. Are they on? Are they off? Will they please get lost? Jenny can now fully appreciate the fake-tan-deep, appearance-obsessed vacuousness of post-Tiger Ireland.
She can also put a face on Brian Cowen and see those voluptuous, bee-stung lips mouthing phrases like "what's the point?". That was his despairing response to heckling over his handling of the Monageer tragedy report. Like the rest of us, Jenny will not be able to read all of the report as it's been censored. She can, however, see photographs of the little Dunne girls who were killed by their dad.
Along with Cowen's mouth, she can also marvel at some necks: those of Ireland's developers. They are setting up a federation to dictate how the National Asset Management Agency operates. Developers created most of the ugly landscapes Jenny is seeing for the first time. Now they are forming a union to fight the state. Imagine the first AGM: all of them in one room. Hopefully the roof will cave in.
In 1960s' Ireland, the bank manager was cock-of-the-walk. Jenny nearly got to see one of those cockerels being egged at AIB's EGM last week. Pensioner Gary Keogh said he snapped when supremo Dermot Gleeson told a shareholder to "sit down while I'm speaking". He flung eggs at the stage and was 'whisked' away by security. What was that old phrase about never teaching 'your granny how to suck eggs'?
Jenny will see her first Dart, Luas and euro. She will see her first Limerick gang funeral. She can watch all the bad news she likes on digital TV. She can sample other digital treats like generic text messages ('CU L8R'?) and the internet at its clinical, automated worst. From tomorrow, Ryanair passengers will have to check in online and print their boarding passes at home, or be hit with a €40 penalty. Jenny has children to do this for her. Ryanair apparently doesn't care about those who don't.
Joey Ramone said there wasn't a hell of a lot he wanted to see. If the above examples were all that were on offer, you'd have to agree. They aren't.
Along with the new sights, there are old ones for Jenny to rediscover. She's from Dun Laoghaire. In time, she will be able to walk with her blind husband along the seafront there on a sunny day, like last Tuesday. She can describe what she sees to him. The colour of the sea foaming over the walls of the Fortyfoot at Sandycove. A nutter in a rickety boat see-sawing through the swell to Bulloch Harbour. People sheltering from the breeze in the lee of the wall at the half-moon-shaped beach. Sunburn glowing above the collars of old folk sunbathing with their coats on. The Mr Whippy van arriving, children paddling, dogs chasing waves. Someone poking a jellyfish with a stick.
She can stop in Fitzgerald's pub and admire the murals or watch, for the first time, a glass of stout slowly change from marble to jet black. She can describe the bubbling, fleeting happiness of a sunny day in our odd little country. How we savour that small morsel of happiness and declare it a feast.
Maybe, someday soon, she'll read this article to her husband. I hope she does, because I'd like to thank her here for lifting people's spirits with her story.
Thank you, Mrs O'Connell. Life sucks right now, but you've proved that hope is lurking everywhere.
dkenny@tribune.ie
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Greens have sacrificed principles for the illusion of power
Sunday Tribune 10 May
What's that sound? Is it the thunder of hooves just over the next ridge? Hurray! It's George Lee leading the cavalry (he's the one on a Segway) to rescue us from the dole queue. Hip, hip, hurray etc, etc.
No matter how you look at it, Fine Gael has floored Fianna Fáil with its choice of candidate for the Dublin South by-election on 5 June. George ticks all the boxes: he's sincere, popular and knowledgable. With the exception of FF, the announcement was loudly applauded. Too loudly. The reaction bordered on mild hysteria. George, while being very, very good at maths, has no political track record. He might be rubbish. Still, it said a lot about where we, the electorate, are at emotionally.
Lee's decision may turn out to be a missed opportunity. Many would like to see a new party enter the fray. With George's financial acumen bolstered by a couple of seasoned dissidents, we could have seen the birth of the George Lee Party. ('George Lee' and 'party': there's three words you don't see together too often.) In time, it might have become known as the Glee Party – 'Spreading the message of gloom with Glee'. Now we'll never know.
While George was throwing shapes over the economy, another man of principle, Eddie Hobbs, reminded us of Fianna Fáil's culture of hard-necked cronyism. Hobbs resigned in protest from the National Consumer Association on Thursday. He had called for Bertie Ahern's 'ex', Celia Larkin, to step down over the revelation that she was fast-tracked for a mortgage by Michael Fingleton. True to FF form, she refused.
The two 'people's economists' aren't the only men of principle taking pot-shots at Fianna Fáil. The Greens are at it too. The first rumblings between the Saviours of the Earth and Fianna Fáil came over the TDs' bonuses debacle. Then John Gormley announced the scrapping of electronic voting, despite a Cabinet decision to defer it. Last Wednesday, Eamon Ryan really stuck the boot in. He told Newstalk's Eamon Keane that he wouldn't recommend Green voters give their transfers to Fianna Fáil in the upcoming local elections. He also said the Greens would be open to doing business with Fine Gael/Labour in a possible National Government. Principled Ryan spoke of "values". He didn't mention loyalty to his government partners, though.
FF played down Ryan's disloyalty and revealed its grand by-election plan to defeat George Lee. It has chosen the late Seamus Brennan's son, Shay, to run against him. Fine Gael is putting up a trusted economist, while FF is relying on sentiment. Economies are not saved by sentiment.
To compound the impression that Fianna Fáil is entirely clueless, Brian Lenihan said, disingenuously, that the three sets of elections on 5 June don't constitute "a referendum". This is rubbish. Fianna Fáil will be tested across the entire voting spectrum: local, by-elections and European. The outcome will reflect the public mood: 384,000 unemployed people are looking forward to letting him and his colleagues know how we feel. You only have to look at the election posters to see FF is really worried: the words 'Fianna Fáil' are microscopic. It's like they're trying to distance themselves from themselves.
Ryan's comments, too, were designed to distance the Greens from them in the run-up to the elections. The question is: What will the Greens do when the elections are over? If Ryan was disloyal last week, imagine what he'll be like when FF is really down.
There's revolution in the air. The public is subconsciously preparing for a new government. As Seán O'Rourke was grilling Lee on Tuesday's News at One, the speculation wasn't whether he would win the seat, but what portfolio he would get in the next cabinet. Lee had leaped that hurdle and was already in a new Fine Gael-led government in the public's mind.
The Greens realise this and that they face annihilation in a general election. They need to start building bridges, which may be why Ryan spoke about doing business with Fine Gael on Newstalk. This double talk, however, is giving weight to ex-Green Patricia McKenna's assertion that they are hypocrites who have sold out.
George Lee has sacrificed his power as a commentator to follow his principles. The Greens have sacrificed their principles for the illusion of power. Their weasly behaviour is at odds with the image of a party with lofty ideals. They used to stand for integrity and plain-speaking. It's taken them just two years to learn how to speak like Fianna Fáil. They are still politically immature though. Trying to be Machiavellian doesn't suit them and is, frankly, a bit embarassing. It's like watching the class nerd trying to act tough.
The response to Lee's candidacy has shown that, psychologically, we are already on a general election footing. By failing to strongly endorse their partners now, the Greens are effectively undermining them. They are hinting that they're having doubts. If they don't act upon these doubts, they are finished as a party. It's a dangerous game they're playing.
The Greens can still show they have some principles left. They should jump ship now, before it's too late, and nail their colours to a National Government mast.
It's either that, or get nailed by a seething electorate.
dkenny@tribune.ie
What's that sound? Is it the thunder of hooves just over the next ridge? Hurray! It's George Lee leading the cavalry (he's the one on a Segway) to rescue us from the dole queue. Hip, hip, hurray etc, etc.
No matter how you look at it, Fine Gael has floored Fianna Fáil with its choice of candidate for the Dublin South by-election on 5 June. George ticks all the boxes: he's sincere, popular and knowledgable. With the exception of FF, the announcement was loudly applauded. Too loudly. The reaction bordered on mild hysteria. George, while being very, very good at maths, has no political track record. He might be rubbish. Still, it said a lot about where we, the electorate, are at emotionally.
Lee's decision may turn out to be a missed opportunity. Many would like to see a new party enter the fray. With George's financial acumen bolstered by a couple of seasoned dissidents, we could have seen the birth of the George Lee Party. ('George Lee' and 'party': there's three words you don't see together too often.) In time, it might have become known as the Glee Party – 'Spreading the message of gloom with Glee'. Now we'll never know.
While George was throwing shapes over the economy, another man of principle, Eddie Hobbs, reminded us of Fianna Fáil's culture of hard-necked cronyism. Hobbs resigned in protest from the National Consumer Association on Thursday. He had called for Bertie Ahern's 'ex', Celia Larkin, to step down over the revelation that she was fast-tracked for a mortgage by Michael Fingleton. True to FF form, she refused.
The two 'people's economists' aren't the only men of principle taking pot-shots at Fianna Fáil. The Greens are at it too. The first rumblings between the Saviours of the Earth and Fianna Fáil came over the TDs' bonuses debacle. Then John Gormley announced the scrapping of electronic voting, despite a Cabinet decision to defer it. Last Wednesday, Eamon Ryan really stuck the boot in. He told Newstalk's Eamon Keane that he wouldn't recommend Green voters give their transfers to Fianna Fáil in the upcoming local elections. He also said the Greens would be open to doing business with Fine Gael/Labour in a possible National Government. Principled Ryan spoke of "values". He didn't mention loyalty to his government partners, though.
FF played down Ryan's disloyalty and revealed its grand by-election plan to defeat George Lee. It has chosen the late Seamus Brennan's son, Shay, to run against him. Fine Gael is putting up a trusted economist, while FF is relying on sentiment. Economies are not saved by sentiment.
To compound the impression that Fianna Fáil is entirely clueless, Brian Lenihan said, disingenuously, that the three sets of elections on 5 June don't constitute "a referendum". This is rubbish. Fianna Fáil will be tested across the entire voting spectrum: local, by-elections and European. The outcome will reflect the public mood: 384,000 unemployed people are looking forward to letting him and his colleagues know how we feel. You only have to look at the election posters to see FF is really worried: the words 'Fianna Fáil' are microscopic. It's like they're trying to distance themselves from themselves.
Ryan's comments, too, were designed to distance the Greens from them in the run-up to the elections. The question is: What will the Greens do when the elections are over? If Ryan was disloyal last week, imagine what he'll be like when FF is really down.
There's revolution in the air. The public is subconsciously preparing for a new government. As Seán O'Rourke was grilling Lee on Tuesday's News at One, the speculation wasn't whether he would win the seat, but what portfolio he would get in the next cabinet. Lee had leaped that hurdle and was already in a new Fine Gael-led government in the public's mind.
The Greens realise this and that they face annihilation in a general election. They need to start building bridges, which may be why Ryan spoke about doing business with Fine Gael on Newstalk. This double talk, however, is giving weight to ex-Green Patricia McKenna's assertion that they are hypocrites who have sold out.
George Lee has sacrificed his power as a commentator to follow his principles. The Greens have sacrificed their principles for the illusion of power. Their weasly behaviour is at odds with the image of a party with lofty ideals. They used to stand for integrity and plain-speaking. It's taken them just two years to learn how to speak like Fianna Fáil. They are still politically immature though. Trying to be Machiavellian doesn't suit them and is, frankly, a bit embarassing. It's like watching the class nerd trying to act tough.
The response to Lee's candidacy has shown that, psychologically, we are already on a general election footing. By failing to strongly endorse their partners now, the Greens are effectively undermining them. They are hinting that they're having doubts. If they don't act upon these doubts, they are finished as a party. It's a dangerous game they're playing.
The Greens can still show they have some principles left. They should jump ship now, before it's too late, and nail their colours to a National Government mast.
It's either that, or get nailed by a seething electorate.
dkenny@tribune.ie
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Nice u-turn Micheál, but you're hardly a class act
Sunday Tribune 3 May
Is it just me or has anybody else noticed it? George Lee's name is ironic. He's 'G. Lee'. Mr Glee, no less. I realised this as Mr Glee's sepulchral tones delivered the bad news from the ESRI on Wednesday – unemployment is now expected to reach the 500,000 mark. Ireland is suffering the worst recession anywhere since the 1930s.
Mr Glee's glum report was the icing on a fruitcake week, which was dominated by cats, pigs and a u-turn by a senior minister. Let's deal with the cats first.
Top Cat economist, David Grubb of the OECD, says our dole is too generous. It discourages people from looking for work. Really? 380,000 people may beg to differ. Last week, a clothes shop in Galway received 1,000 applications for just 60 jobs. Among the applicants were teachers, lawyers and other graduates, all willing to set aside years of training – and the dole – to sell clothes. Being employed is about more than just money, it's about self-esteem. People want to work, not get 'hooked' on the dole, despite what the experts say. That's why so many workers were angry at being the victims of another 'cat' last week: the unofficial wildcat bus strike.
On Monday, a group of morons at Dublin Bus hindered 100,000 commuters because a driver was suspended for refusing to work an agreed new schedule. What kind of idiots strike in a recession? Half-witted actions like this only further destabilise the economy. The government should introduce legislation outlawing the disruption of public transport without union sanction. If that's not possible, then future job contracts should have a clause waiving the 'right' to unofficial action. Selfish bus drivers should not be allowed to mess up the economy. That's the job of the lads in Leinster House, which brings us to the pigs we mentioned earlier.
Last week, swine flu arrived to hoots of derision from Ryanair's Dr Michael O'Leary. He prescribed Strepsils and accused "idiot politicians" of using this "load of b***** nonsense" to distract us from the economy. He's wrong: it's doubtful they could even do that properly. Day after day, our politicians prove how inept, self-centred and deluded they are. Take Bertie Ahern, for example. He's more delusional than a pig looking forward to Christmas.
Last week, he hinted he wants to be Dublin's first publicly elected Mayor. The job should go to an experienced politician, he said. Not someone going around "making an ass of themselves". (Hasn't he already got that gig?)
Bertie believes he can have whatever job he wants when he leaves the Dáil. After receiving a fat pay-off and pension, he wants to continue swanning around in a state-paid job. When it comes to having a jaw-dropping sense of entitlement, Bertie is king. Or he was – last week, he was usurped by one of his former lieutenants.
On Monday, the Indo revealed that Micheál Martin will draw three pensions when he retires, worth nearly €130,000. These are ministerial, TD and teacher pensions. Martin has held on to his teaching job – for the past 20 years – despite financial security most of us only dream of. Under 'Oireachtas Leave' rules, he is entitled to do this while a substitute fills in for him. On Tuesday, he said he has no intention of quitting a job he hasn't worked at since 1989. This means he is denying someone a full-time post so he has something to fall back on if he loses his seat.
To add insult to injury, he lamely explained that he has a young family to support. Showing a rare lack of confidence, he pointed out that he's 48 and "if anything happened tomorrow morning with regard to my career…".
You have to feel sorry for him. If he gets the sack, he'll be staring at a bleak future on €130,000 a year and a six-figure lump sum. Despite being considered a potential taoiseach, he apparently doesn't believe he has the skill to carve out a business career. He's heading straight back to the classroom.
Yesterday, it emerged that he has had a change of heart since the Indo revelation and now only wants a pension for the five-and-a-half years he spent with his back to a blackboard. Big deal, he's still not giving up his teaching job.
Eleven of his Oireachtas colleagues – including Mary Hanafin – are also clinging to their teaching posts. Like Martin, they're frightened they might wind up hooked on the dole, as Mr Grubb says.
Martin was a member of the Ahern-led government that failed to put money aside for our future. He says he is only thinking of his family's by keeping his teaching options open. What a hypocrite. The 380,000 unemployed didn't have a back-up job when they were let go. What a great role model he'll make if he takes up teaching again.
Martin has been shamed into making a small gesture about his pension and doesn't deserve applause for it. His u-turn just means that there's a little less in the political trough for him as his colleagues snuffle around him.
Pigs will fly before any of them ever sees a dole queue.
dkenny@tribune.ie
Is it just me or has anybody else noticed it? George Lee's name is ironic. He's 'G. Lee'. Mr Glee, no less. I realised this as Mr Glee's sepulchral tones delivered the bad news from the ESRI on Wednesday – unemployment is now expected to reach the 500,000 mark. Ireland is suffering the worst recession anywhere since the 1930s.
Mr Glee's glum report was the icing on a fruitcake week, which was dominated by cats, pigs and a u-turn by a senior minister. Let's deal with the cats first.
Top Cat economist, David Grubb of the OECD, says our dole is too generous. It discourages people from looking for work. Really? 380,000 people may beg to differ. Last week, a clothes shop in Galway received 1,000 applications for just 60 jobs. Among the applicants were teachers, lawyers and other graduates, all willing to set aside years of training – and the dole – to sell clothes. Being employed is about more than just money, it's about self-esteem. People want to work, not get 'hooked' on the dole, despite what the experts say. That's why so many workers were angry at being the victims of another 'cat' last week: the unofficial wildcat bus strike.
On Monday, a group of morons at Dublin Bus hindered 100,000 commuters because a driver was suspended for refusing to work an agreed new schedule. What kind of idiots strike in a recession? Half-witted actions like this only further destabilise the economy. The government should introduce legislation outlawing the disruption of public transport without union sanction. If that's not possible, then future job contracts should have a clause waiving the 'right' to unofficial action. Selfish bus drivers should not be allowed to mess up the economy. That's the job of the lads in Leinster House, which brings us to the pigs we mentioned earlier.
Last week, swine flu arrived to hoots of derision from Ryanair's Dr Michael O'Leary. He prescribed Strepsils and accused "idiot politicians" of using this "load of b***** nonsense" to distract us from the economy. He's wrong: it's doubtful they could even do that properly. Day after day, our politicians prove how inept, self-centred and deluded they are. Take Bertie Ahern, for example. He's more delusional than a pig looking forward to Christmas.
Last week, he hinted he wants to be Dublin's first publicly elected Mayor. The job should go to an experienced politician, he said. Not someone going around "making an ass of themselves". (Hasn't he already got that gig?)
Bertie believes he can have whatever job he wants when he leaves the Dáil. After receiving a fat pay-off and pension, he wants to continue swanning around in a state-paid job. When it comes to having a jaw-dropping sense of entitlement, Bertie is king. Or he was – last week, he was usurped by one of his former lieutenants.
On Monday, the Indo revealed that Micheál Martin will draw three pensions when he retires, worth nearly €130,000. These are ministerial, TD and teacher pensions. Martin has held on to his teaching job – for the past 20 years – despite financial security most of us only dream of. Under 'Oireachtas Leave' rules, he is entitled to do this while a substitute fills in for him. On Tuesday, he said he has no intention of quitting a job he hasn't worked at since 1989. This means he is denying someone a full-time post so he has something to fall back on if he loses his seat.
To add insult to injury, he lamely explained that he has a young family to support. Showing a rare lack of confidence, he pointed out that he's 48 and "if anything happened tomorrow morning with regard to my career…".
You have to feel sorry for him. If he gets the sack, he'll be staring at a bleak future on €130,000 a year and a six-figure lump sum. Despite being considered a potential taoiseach, he apparently doesn't believe he has the skill to carve out a business career. He's heading straight back to the classroom.
Yesterday, it emerged that he has had a change of heart since the Indo revelation and now only wants a pension for the five-and-a-half years he spent with his back to a blackboard. Big deal, he's still not giving up his teaching job.
Eleven of his Oireachtas colleagues – including Mary Hanafin – are also clinging to their teaching posts. Like Martin, they're frightened they might wind up hooked on the dole, as Mr Grubb says.
Martin was a member of the Ahern-led government that failed to put money aside for our future. He says he is only thinking of his family's by keeping his teaching options open. What a hypocrite. The 380,000 unemployed didn't have a back-up job when they were let go. What a great role model he'll make if he takes up teaching again.
Martin has been shamed into making a small gesture about his pension and doesn't deserve applause for it. His u-turn just means that there's a little less in the political trough for him as his colleagues snuffle around him.
Pigs will fly before any of them ever sees a dole queue.
dkenny@tribune.ie
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Ahern's get-out-of-jail card will not solve prison crisis
Sunday Tribune 26 April
Gary Douche should not have died in Mountjoy. Those are the words of the man who beat him to death there in 2006. Nobody should die in Mountjoy, but they do, as in other prisons across our state.
Douche was in a holding cell to protect him from other prisoners. His killer, Stephen Egan, was there because the jail was overcrowded. He had been transferred from the Central Mental Hospital without his anti-psychotic drugs. I'll spare you the details of what happened.
We only ever hear what passes as life in Irish jails when someone like Gary Douche is killed. Attacks happen every day. As of 9 March, we had 3,790 prisoners and only 3,611 beds in our powder-keg prisons. They are operating at 105% of their capacity. While Douche lay dying in Mountjoy, there were 526 other inmates sleeping in the jail which had a capacity for just 470. There are now 633.
Four thousand prisoners doesn't seem like an overwhelming number to deal with. So why do we have overcrowding? It costs the state an average of €97,700 a year to house a prisoner. Do the maths: we have overcrowding because we're strapped for cash.
Justice minister Dermot Ahern made two announcements last week. The first was the publication of the Fines Bill 2009. At any given time, there are about 15 people in prison for non-payment of fines. The Bill allows defaulters pay by instalment as an alternative to jail.
The second heralded a plan to rehabilitate sex offenders. Prisoners who volunteer for therapy will be released early and electronically tagged. This will incentivise serious offenders to undergo treatment.
Both plans have merits and while I agree with the first, I don't with the second. Sex offenders are notorious recidivists and should do their time. Out of 578 released since 2003, only 42 had completed the Sex Offender Programme.
The optics are fine: TV licence fee defaulters stay out of jail and offenders get treatment. Look closer and you'll notice something both plans have in common: they free up prison space. Does the government believe releasing paedophiles is the answer to overcrowding? Or releasing short-term prisoners? Last year, anyone serving less than 20 months in Mountjoy's women's unit was released to make room for more serious offenders.
Or how about letting potential killers out on bail?
On 8 April, Ahern said that our bail laws can't be tightened because of prison overcrowding. There's no room for suspects who might not be granted bail. That's an admission of defeat.
Ahern knows that 25% of all serious crime is committed by people on bail (CSO, 2008). This includes rape and murder. Between 2004 and mid-2008, 90,000 serious crimes were committed by bailed suspects.
In 2007, despite garda objections, Tipperary man Jerry McGrath was granted bail after being arrested for assaulting a five-year-old girl. A month later, McGrath murdered mother-of-two Sylvia Roche Kelly. Her husband has accused the state of giving McGrath freedom which he used to carry out the killing.
Ahern has linked reform of the bail laws to overcrowding. His solution is early release. This will, inevitably, breed more crime. Our penal system is a revolving door which will soon be spinning faster than a government press secretary.
Every time the overcrowding issue comes up, the standard answer is 'Thornton Hall'. This 2,200-bed super-prison will solve everything. The problem is, Thornton Hall isn't being built. It's been "in the pipeline" for the past three years due to negotiation problems with the builders. There's a first: disharmony between the government and the construction industry.
The Prison Service can move quickly when it needs to, though. It's currently being investigated for awarding €100m of contracts to one building company – Glenbeigh Construction – without putting them out to public tender. The justice department secretary general, Sean Aylward, has defended the service saying it had to move quickly due to… overcrowding. Where there's a will there's a way.
Last week the government scrapped the unused electronic voting system that has cost us over €51m. Then there's the pay-offs to junior ministers and bonuses to 'veteran' TDs. All the money it has wasted could have been put towards Thornton Hall or some interim solution, like reopening Spike Island or the Curragh detention centre.
The former military camps at Rockhill House, Lifford, Monaghan and Longford could be used as 'boot camps' for young offenders, like Thorn Cross centre in Warrington. This is a voluntary scheme where prisoners sign up to learn respect and self-esteem. They are given construction courses leading to placements with local builders. If we had an Irish version, an offender could end up building Thornton Hall rather than residing in it.
The crime rate is rising and the government must protect us, inside and – more importantly – outside prison. Opening the gates is not the solution, minister. Stop wringing your hands about the bail laws and dreaming of Thornton Hall. Use the idle facilities we already have. Continuing to pack prisoners in will result in more Gary Douches. Continuing to let them out will result in more Sylvia Roche Kellys.
We don't want any more like them on our conscience. Find the space now.
dkenny@tribune.ie
Gary Douche should not have died in Mountjoy. Those are the words of the man who beat him to death there in 2006. Nobody should die in Mountjoy, but they do, as in other prisons across our state.
Douche was in a holding cell to protect him from other prisoners. His killer, Stephen Egan, was there because the jail was overcrowded. He had been transferred from the Central Mental Hospital without his anti-psychotic drugs. I'll spare you the details of what happened.
We only ever hear what passes as life in Irish jails when someone like Gary Douche is killed. Attacks happen every day. As of 9 March, we had 3,790 prisoners and only 3,611 beds in our powder-keg prisons. They are operating at 105% of their capacity. While Douche lay dying in Mountjoy, there were 526 other inmates sleeping in the jail which had a capacity for just 470. There are now 633.
Four thousand prisoners doesn't seem like an overwhelming number to deal with. So why do we have overcrowding? It costs the state an average of €97,700 a year to house a prisoner. Do the maths: we have overcrowding because we're strapped for cash.
Justice minister Dermot Ahern made two announcements last week. The first was the publication of the Fines Bill 2009. At any given time, there are about 15 people in prison for non-payment of fines. The Bill allows defaulters pay by instalment as an alternative to jail.
The second heralded a plan to rehabilitate sex offenders. Prisoners who volunteer for therapy will be released early and electronically tagged. This will incentivise serious offenders to undergo treatment.
Both plans have merits and while I agree with the first, I don't with the second. Sex offenders are notorious recidivists and should do their time. Out of 578 released since 2003, only 42 had completed the Sex Offender Programme.
The optics are fine: TV licence fee defaulters stay out of jail and offenders get treatment. Look closer and you'll notice something both plans have in common: they free up prison space. Does the government believe releasing paedophiles is the answer to overcrowding? Or releasing short-term prisoners? Last year, anyone serving less than 20 months in Mountjoy's women's unit was released to make room for more serious offenders.
Or how about letting potential killers out on bail?
On 8 April, Ahern said that our bail laws can't be tightened because of prison overcrowding. There's no room for suspects who might not be granted bail. That's an admission of defeat.
Ahern knows that 25% of all serious crime is committed by people on bail (CSO, 2008). This includes rape and murder. Between 2004 and mid-2008, 90,000 serious crimes were committed by bailed suspects.
In 2007, despite garda objections, Tipperary man Jerry McGrath was granted bail after being arrested for assaulting a five-year-old girl. A month later, McGrath murdered mother-of-two Sylvia Roche Kelly. Her husband has accused the state of giving McGrath freedom which he used to carry out the killing.
Ahern has linked reform of the bail laws to overcrowding. His solution is early release. This will, inevitably, breed more crime. Our penal system is a revolving door which will soon be spinning faster than a government press secretary.
Every time the overcrowding issue comes up, the standard answer is 'Thornton Hall'. This 2,200-bed super-prison will solve everything. The problem is, Thornton Hall isn't being built. It's been "in the pipeline" for the past three years due to negotiation problems with the builders. There's a first: disharmony between the government and the construction industry.
The Prison Service can move quickly when it needs to, though. It's currently being investigated for awarding €100m of contracts to one building company – Glenbeigh Construction – without putting them out to public tender. The justice department secretary general, Sean Aylward, has defended the service saying it had to move quickly due to… overcrowding. Where there's a will there's a way.
Last week the government scrapped the unused electronic voting system that has cost us over €51m. Then there's the pay-offs to junior ministers and bonuses to 'veteran' TDs. All the money it has wasted could have been put towards Thornton Hall or some interim solution, like reopening Spike Island or the Curragh detention centre.
The former military camps at Rockhill House, Lifford, Monaghan and Longford could be used as 'boot camps' for young offenders, like Thorn Cross centre in Warrington. This is a voluntary scheme where prisoners sign up to learn respect and self-esteem. They are given construction courses leading to placements with local builders. If we had an Irish version, an offender could end up building Thornton Hall rather than residing in it.
The crime rate is rising and the government must protect us, inside and – more importantly – outside prison. Opening the gates is not the solution, minister. Stop wringing your hands about the bail laws and dreaming of Thornton Hall. Use the idle facilities we already have. Continuing to pack prisoners in will result in more Gary Douches. Continuing to let them out will result in more Sylvia Roche Kellys.
We don't want any more like them on our conscience. Find the space now.
dkenny@tribune.ie
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