Poverty in life and poverty of spirit

I find that this article (The Upsetting Reality Of Modern Day Poverty.uploaded in an earlier Facebook  piece)) gives a clear , even bleak, introduction to what poverty means to many people. It set me thinking about poverty in Ireland and about the other problems we face and prompted me to push my ideas a bit further and try to clarify them.

I am speaking here of a poverty of thinking as well as a poverty of circumstances. I wish that those who pontificate about their respect for electoral mandates and their dedication to working for the people who elected them, will read this and then recalibrate the urgency required in forming a new government. You asked for a mandate to govern and implement your policies. No party has reached the line to implement their mandate so it is doubtful that your mandate now extends that far because a coalition, an inter-party, a partnership, or any other arrangement will of necessity limit your mandate. Perhaps it would be wise to temporarily interpret your mandate from your share of the electorate as instructing you to negotiate a part for yourselves and them in whatever arrangement is eventually adopted. Any expectations greater than that is pushing it and would appear somewhat arrogant or chancing your arm.

Don’t keep telling us that “the numbers” dictate that it has to be EITHER a Fine Gael OR a Fianna Fáil minority government supported by a few tame independents whom the winner hopes that they can buy off. That is wishful thinking. The “numbers” you speak of are just like squiggles and blobs on a page, like a Rorschach test, and of themselves they have little or no meaning, other than that the electorate is as confused as you are. We are all in new territory. And that requires working with a new map. Any psychologist using the Rorschach (or Inkblot) Test will tell you that a candidate, asked to describe what they see in the random shape of blobs in the picture, will project the contents of their unconscious mind onto the chaos they see and organise it into a picture that they recognise and feel comfortable with based upon the information in their unconscious mind (See note #1 below). Like seeing meaningful shapes in the random pattern of clouds in the sky or of tea leaves on a bottom of a cup. Other observers may decipher different shapes but of you are right – from your own viewpoint.

Our devoted public representatives, suckled for generations on the spiteful milk of unkindness curdled by begrudgery, fraternal strife, clientalism, and political inbreeding, and at the same time remembering with satisfaction the successes that were gained on different occasions in the past, are now looking hopefully into the chaos of the new parliamentary galaxy of stars, and are scanning hopefully the fortunes and recipes of yesterday. They are seeing only the patterns that worked for them in the past and that once helped them to hold on to power and achieve their goals. The Independents, the Alliances, and the embrionic Parties in today’s Dáil are behaving no differently.

four-of-cupsHas none of them the vision, the imagination, and the character to seize the moment? Is there no one with the courage to break new ground, to show us a new vision of society? A revolutionary vision that will respond to what the electorate is yearning for, a better Ireland, a fairer and more egalitarian Ireland that will treat all the children of Caitlín Ní Uallacháin, both young and old, equally. An Ireland which, though small and struggling, has the heart, the creativity, and the spirit to do better, even to taking its place among the Nations of the Earth?

We have done it before and we can do it again. Digging deep and remembering the richness that lies at the roots of our history, we know that the people of this island once played a crucial role when, together with the Greeks and Romans, they rescued Europe from the Dark Ages. As was pointed out in a recent documentary on RTÉ 1 which was presented by former President Mary McAleese, that period in our history is more appreciated and remembered by continental Europeans today than it is recognised by Irish people. At various stages over the centuries since then, our country has contributed in many and varied ways to the development of a unique culture and community that has not baulked at taking and holding a world view, and is now ranked as number one for our peace-keeping efforts under the United Nations. We have gained recognition from those who valued what our ancestors both recent and ancient have contributed on the world stage. In the past week, a documentary on RTÉ, described eloquently how the 1916 Rising had provided the inspiration for the people of India and Pakistan to fight for and assert their countries’ independence from the British Empire. A respect shown by the people of India and Pakistan which is considerably more real and appreciated by them than is our awareness of their gratitude.

We are at a strengthpoint now where we need to form a government. We need a period of stability but not the static equilibrium of a ladder leaning against a wall. We need the dynamic stability and balance of a body moving swiftly and adapting with awareness, intelligence, and co-ordination to meet our changing circumstances, like a thoroughbred horse under a skilful jockey, like a skier on an icy downhill run, or perhaps more aptly, like a bare-footed person picking their terrified way over red-hot coals!

To achieve that, both we and our representatives must move out of our respective comfort zones; we must inhabit the visions of our youthfulness and not linger with the consoling dreams of old age. Poverty of vision and lack of courage are not the coinage for the journey we must undertake. And undertake it, we must.



#1: If you are not familiar with the Rorschach Test, you might like to try a fun version available online at Rorschach (or Inkblot) Test (click here).  I hasten to add that the clinical version is for serious use, but don’t worry about this one. Nevertheless, if you understand how the test operates then you will have a clear understanding of what I mean above. These were my test results:

Test Results:

Congratulations! At a 49% “Sickness Quotient”, you’re almost well-adjusted.

Detailed Diagnosis

  • Interpersonal Insights
    You have trouble being friendly to others, especially people who hate your guts and want to hurt you. You complain about everything regardless of what it is. You wouldn’t be happy even if you were hit by a new car.
  • Job Performance & Attitude
    Your attitude towards work is that you could watch others do it all day long. Although your work can upon occasion be very good, remember that even monkeys can be trained to do what you do. And they don’t call in sick.
  • Personality Insight
    Your personal motto is “If you can’t make them think, make them wonder.” Trust us – you’ve succeeded beyond your wildest dreams.




Cad atá le déanamh againn anois? Where do we go from here?

An tseachtain seo caite, do chaith mé roinnt ama ag faire a gcuid fianaise á thabhairt uathu ag na huaisle Enda Kenny, Pat Rabbitte, Joan Burton, Bertie Ahern, et al.,ós comhair an Choiste Dála.

Last week I watched some of the testimony given by Mr. Enda Kenny, Mr. Pat Rabbitte, Ms. Joan Burton, Mr. Bertie Ahern, et al.to the Dáil Committee.

Gaeilge (English version follows after the Irish version)

B’fhéidir gur rinneadh trácht ar seo le déanaí ach ní fhaca-sa é. An tseachtain seo caite, do chaith mé roinnt ama ag faire a gcuid fianaise á thabhairt uathu ag na huaisle Enda Kenny, Pat Rabbitte, Joan Burton, Bertie Ahern, et al.,ós comhair an Choiste Dála.

Agus mé im’ shaoránach ríméadach na tíre seo, do chuir sé clár ar mo chluasa ag éisteacht le, agus ag faire ar, a gcuid iompair ós comhair a gcomhghleachaithe, agus ba léir é go raibh siad ag tapaidh an deis chun “toghchánaíocht de réir an sean-nós” a chur ar siúl. Ní raibh ann dóibh ach ‘charade’, gnáthgheamaireacht na Dála. Bhí mé ag feitheamh, agus ag súil, le réimiúlacht, le meas, agus le humhlaíocht. Dhéanfadh leath-‘apologia’ an ghnó, fiú leithscéal ón gcroí.

Tháinig an smaoineamh chugam: “Níl san ócáíd seo ach cluiche dóibh, iad cosúil le páistí seanchríonna, agus iad ag ligint orthu gur daoine fásta iad, fad is atá siad ag magadh faoinár n-institiúidí, gan ar bun acu ach iarraim cúis ar nós matadóra. Ni hea, ach ar nós fir sorcais ag ligint orthu gur matadóirí iad. Ní raibh san éisteacht seo de réir dealraimh ach cró sorcaise. Bhí áiméar ar fáil dóibh an bhinnbharraíocht a bheith acu ar duine agus fonóid a dhéanamh faoi dhuine eile. Ócáid dóibh chun a lucht leanúna a mhúscailt, saillte le dea-chaint, amhail is gur orthusan a bhí an cáipéis.

Bhí mé am shamhlú go raibh cailíní deasa ar an maide luascáin, go raibh fir cróga ar an sreang ard, agus, cinnte, ba chóir go mbeadh ‘pierrot’ ann. Fir sorcais i ndáiriíre, agus deor ollmhóir ar a leiceann acu agus iad ag déanamh trua don chine daonna faoi fhulaingt do-inste. Ach, tada le feiscint. Ní duine sorcais le croí óir a bhí os ár gcomhair amach, ní raibh grá ná trua le feiscint ann. Ní raibh ann ach dróid-anna nua-aimseartha amháin, Daleks na Dála, agus caint an gheilt á chogaint acu. Ba mhaslach a gcuid cainte agus iad gealsúileach agus tom-eireaballach, ag tabhairt masla do mhuintir na tíre seo atá ag fulaingt go huafásach faoina réimeas, muintir a bhfuil deacair orthu foighneamh lena ngréasán bréag, lena bhfeall ar iontaoibh, agus lena seápála.

Ach gan amhras ní raibh na daoine atá faoin fhulaingt is mó feasach faoin bhfeic náisiúnta seo ar raidió agus ar teilifís. Bhíodar ag codail amuigh ar an sráid agus faoin sceach, ag maireachtáil i lóistíní sealadacha. Nó faoi fhulaingt sa bhaile, gan dóthain airgid acu , gan teas, gan solas, gan bia, gan sólás. Nó ag faire ar glao Skype ó aird i gcéin chun a chlann páistí a fheiscint, chun a chéile a chloisteáil, daoine a ligeadh le sruth mar chacamas le sruth dramhaíol as obair dramhaíola na tíre seo chun áit a chur in áirithint don Déine. Don diabhail le clár damanta na Déine!!

Ach fós anois, agus na hócáidí á leanúint agam ar nuacht an lae, agus na pobalbhreitheanna ag teacht ar shála a chéile, cuireann sé iontas an domhain orm faoi chad atá i ndán dúinn. Tá dian-rialú ann ag na Deasaigh anois, agus iad tacaithe le hairgead a ghoideadh, agus le cambheartanna sracaidh leathdhleathacha a bhí dlisteanaithe ag rialtas i ndiaidh rialtais thar na blianta. Tá an Ceartlár plódaithe leis an iomarca polaiteoirí ainléanta atá deamhéineacha agus garúla agus iad ag iarraidh greim a fháil ar sopanna agus ar gearróga an daonlathais. Agus na Ciotaigh, cosúil le Néandertálaigh i bhfolach ó na dineasáir caipitlíocha atá ar díbheargach ar machairí móra na hÉireann, tá na Ciotaigh ina bpluaiseanna díospóireachta, ag míníneacht, ag cur faobhar ar bioranna oighir, agus ag beartú conas ar féidir leo, cosúil le madraí, na conablaigh curtha de láimh ag sealgairí vóta níos éifeachtúla ná iad féin a chosgairt. Meascadh bróid bhréagaigh ar bhonn prionsabal amhrasacha, éide nua don Impire snite as bréaga, as calaois agus deartha ag claonbholscairí. Sea, is soiléir anois é, go bhfuil toghachán ag teach chugainn anois, in éineacht leis an ngnáth-bhús! Tuigim, a Yeats Uasal, beidh “the catch-cries of the clowns” againn, mar aon leis.

Ach an bhfuil sé riachtanach go dtitfidh sé amach mar sin? Cad is tuairim duit faoi? Fad is atá guth fós againn, ar bheartaigh tú conas a gcaithfidh tusa do guth? In ionad a bheith ag glamaíl ar an ngealach agus tú ag súil go haonarach le macalla glaime a cloisint ar ais, an bhfuil dóthain suime agat ann, an bhfuil an ‘nous’ ionat, an bhfuil tú cróga go leor chun an fód a sheasamh? Chun an fhírinne a rá, táimse in amhras faoi, agus fúm féin chomh maith. Dá mbeadh caoi agam air anois, “I would arise and go now, and go to a little Greek island”, chun mo shaol a chaitheamh i gcomhluadar le daoine a bhfuil meas acu ar a ndéithe, ar a stair, ar a dteanga, agus ar a gcultúr. Ach ní bheidh an caoi agam é sin a dhéanamh. B’fhearr liom fanacht anseo in Éirinn. Is i mo thír dhúchais í. Is oth liom é a rá, áfach, ach ní bheimid in ann tada a dhéanamh chun an tír áluinn seo a chur le chéile arís go dtí go ndéanfaimis tarrtháil ar spiorad na tíre seo, ar spioraid na ndaoine. De réir dealraimh, níl meas muice ag formhór na ndaoine anois ar ár n-oidhreacht, mar Ghaeil, ar na bunphrionsabail a cheangal an pobal le chéile in aghaidh ár namhaid san am atá thart. Cinnte ní foláir dúinn ár n-aigne a dhíriú ar sin agus 2016 ag teacht in ionad Disneyland bréag-Gaelach a thógáil ós cionn uaigheanna ár muintir is ár laochra.


Perhaps this has already been commented upon and I missed it. Last week I watched some of the testimony given by Mr. Enda Kenny, Mr. Pat Rabbitte, Ms. Joan Burton, Mr. Bertie Ahern, et al.to the Dáil Committee.

As a proud citizen of this country, I felt deeply offended by their attitude towards the questioning, their general behaviour towards their peers, and their obvious seizing of the moment for “d’oul bi’ of electioneering”.  The whole thing was just a charade for them, the usual Dáil circus. I waited and waited for dignity, respect, and humility. Even half an apology from the heart.

I thought: “This is a just a game for them, like precocious children playing at being adults, mocking our institutions, trailing their coats like matadors. No, like clowns in a circus pretending to be matadors. It was a circus to them. It was an opportunity to gloat and deride. A time to stir up their followers with their witty barbs and pretence at being responsible.”

There should have been beautiful girls on the trapeze, men with courage on the high wire, and of course, there should have been clowns. Real clowns, with a giant tear on their cheeks in their pity for suffering humanity. But, no. These were no clowns with a heart of gold, who love humanity and who pity it. These were mere clown droids, Dáil Daleks, muttering insanities. Their wide-eyed bushy-tailed efforts at humour were an insult to the people of this country who have suffered terribly under their reign, who have put up with their lies, their deceits, and their posturing.

The people they have hurt most, were probably not aware of this national spectacle on television.They were sleeping rough, living in temporary accommodation. Or suffering at home, without enough money for heat or light or food or comfort. Or waiting for a Skype call to see their children, their husbands or wives, who were flushed like shite out of the sewer jobs of this country to make a home for Austerity. Austerity be damned.

But yet, as I follow events in the news, listen to the polls, I wonder. The Right is in tight command now, supported by stolen money, barely legal extortion rackets legitimised by our Governments for years. The Centre is crowded with well-meaning political illiterates who are grasping for the straws of democracy. And the Left, like Neanderthals hiding from the dinosaurs who maraud on the plains of Ireland, they are hiding in their caves of debate, splitting hairs, sharpening their ice-picks, and planning on how they can live off the carcases left behind by more efficient hunters of votes. A mixture of false pride in debatable principles, a new garment for the Emperor spun from lies, deceits and designed by spin doctors, yes, it is clear, that there is an election coming down the road, with all the razamatazz that comes with it. Yes, Mr. Yeats, there will be the catch-cries of the clowns, as well.

But does it have to be like that? What do you plan to do? While we still have the Vote, have you decided how you will vote? Instead of howling at the moon in the lonely hope of hearing howling echo back to you, have you enough interest, enough nous, enough courage to speak up? Quite honestly, I doubt it. I doubt that I am ready for the struggle. If I had the chance, I would arise and go now, and go to a little Greek island, to live among people who have respect for their gods, their history, their language, and their culture. But I do not have that chance. I prefer to stay here in Ireland. I was born and reared here. It is my home. I am sorry to say, however, we can do nothing to restore our beautiful country until we salvage what we can from the wreckage we have left behind us, the spirit of a country, the spirit of its people. It appears that most of the population couldn’t care less about our heritage, as a Gaelic people, about the basic principles that united the people in the face of the enemy in times past. Certainly we will need to direct serious attention to this area with 2016 getting closer by the day. Especially if we do not wish to erect a pseudo-Irish Disneyland over the graves of our ancestors and our heroes.

Austerity just for the craic!

It was once said of the Irish, that “all their wars were merry and all their songs are sad”. Without doubt many Irish ballads and sean-nós singing have a haunting air about them, expressing pain that is too difficult to describe in words, coming as it does from deeply hidden wells of history, of faded dreams, and of exploitation. There is also some substance in the allegation that our wars were merry. It is said that the ancient Celtic tribes of Europe went into battle naked, save for a helmet, a shield and a sword. When a captured Celtic chieftain was paraded before the all-conquering Alexander the Great whose empire once sprawled across the world then known to Europeans, Alexander is said to have asked him, with some grudging admiration, was there nothing that the Celts feared. After some thought the captive chief replied: “Every morning when I go out, I fear the sky is going to fall on my head!”.

I can empathise with that fear, living as I do in Ireland of the Austerities. Beleaguered citizens squeezed by the policies imposed by the Troika, the EU and the IMF as a corrective punishment are now suffering for sleepwalking into a world moulded by the fantasies of the Celtic Tiger years, “But we were only following our leaders. They told us we were wealthy, that we are the greatest little country in the world to do business in. Even foreignors told us the same. Why wouldn’t we take advantage of the money available? And sure, wasn’t it great while it lasted”. And yes, indeed, it was great for a small minority but a large majority were left blinded and crleft, one third died, one third remained, and for what? Is the same pattern to be repeated in the era of the Great Failure? If we don’t learn from the past, then it surely will be repeated.ippled like wounded, would-be warriors of a new and glorious age of prosperity. Little did we realise that we were but bit-part characters in a larger and grander narrative satisfying the egos of the few and providing a story line of their greed. The same leaders are now standing before us like insufferable senior students, toadying up to the Headmaster and Teachers, our betters, as they chide us for “losing the run of ourselves”. We must submit to punishment and take what we deserve.

It is heart-breaking to see and hear the deluge of stories from families and individuals who were caught up in that narrative. The stories of emigrations, of suicides, of financial destruction, of homes and families being pushed beyond their all too human limits are stirring a cauldron of memories. We are being haunted by memories of informers who ratted on our attempts at freedom, of leaders who fled the country leaving the detritus of dreams behind them, but worst of all, the spectre of the Great Famine is hanging over us, chilling our dreams. One third left, one third died, one third remained, and for what? Is the same pattern to be repeated in the era of the Great Failure? If we don’t learn from the past, then it surely will be repeated.

I remember from my studies when I worked on projects exploring leaders and leadership, individuals, groups and organisations, that the “power distance” between leader and followers is an important dimension in defining the effectiveness and behaviour of that leadership. Different countries show a wide variety of tolerance for that “power distance”.  It is a bit like social distance. I am reminded of a joke abut what would happen if a man and a woman were washed up on a desert island. If they were French they would make love; if they were Irish, the man would wander off looking for the local pub; and if they were English, nothing would happen because they hadn’t been introduced!

We Irish do not feel comfortable with leaders who are socially distant from us. We don’t do anonymity. It’s a small country and a dense web of relationships ensures that we don’t need to search far to find a relative or a rival. We distrust leaders who get above themselves and we are quick to wind them in. But when we feel close to them, we are too trusting about their decency and fairness towards us. This has led to an Irish political culture based upon connections and influence. There is nothing inherently wrong with that, it is the normal currency of human society. But our TDs (members of the Dáil) are committed to “stroke” politics and doing “turns” for their constituents, often in opposition to the rules governing our society. In a strange way, it is almost as if our representatives view our government as being in some way alien and not the real authority. That was true when we were colonised, with the King or Queen in London and our other monarch, the Pope, in Rome. For 800 years Irish people had no native symbols of authority other than a precarious and threatened tribal system.

The political  system demands, and is structured so that our representatives will not be re-elected if those norms are not met. Political policies are largely irrelevant in the face of “the catch cries of the clown”. We don’t do political philosophy either. We don’t really have an intellectual framework for discourse about who we are, what we want, and how we can achieve that state. It is a culture built upon activities and not on thinking. It is a culture that we have exported, most obviously to the New World (for Europeans, I hasten to add), where it thrived and spread through the gangs of NY and the Unions and Irish American politicians.

That culture is one of the main reasons why we are now suffering turmoil in trying to cope with our problems. We have known only a corrupted form of politics based upon the Civil War, that was manipulated by an over-bearing Church that interfered with political processes but forbade any questioning of their diktats. Small wonder that there is confusion and growing levels of violence in the streets. We lack a patois, a people’s language for political discourse. Pent up anger, frustration and fear is erupting in the throwing of insults and shouting confrontations with authority figures. It is not a pretty or re-assuring kaleidoscope of possibilities. Our Uachtarán (President) is a mild mannered intellectual, a poet, a champion against oppression in the Americas. This did not save him from an ignomious and hasty departure from an event in Dublin this week.

Unfortunately for Michael D., and I once knew him well enough to address his so, when we were colleagues in the Labour Party that once aspired to socialism, but yes, again I say unfortunately for him, he has had to compromise himself and his principles by lying down with dogs over too long a period. I am sure he hoped sincerely that he could achieve progress and change gradually and democratically. And he has done so but on the very limited palette of the arts where the colour red was verboten. Alas, but when one lies down with dogs, one gets up with fleas. He has been making obvious efforts to use any semblance of power left in his constitutional role as Uachtarán to good effect, but I believe that the New Labour Party of the Roses, that left Connolly’s Starry Plough to rust, merely threw a bone in the form of the Presidency to keep him out of the way and put a veneer of decency on their politically obscene groping with Fine Gael.

We are now in an increasingly precarious position in Ireland. The volume of protest and dissatisfaction is growing to a crescendo. A lot of energy is being generated but, whilst it is clearly directed at the single issue of the privatisation and commodification of water supplies, there is little sign of a new wave rising in Irish political life. Different groups are defining themselves in terms of activities and in so doing are attracting support from citizens who just want the pain to end. Shouting and screaming at the Garda Síochána, hurling abuse at politicians and at anyone who is seen as Other, and communicating in the short-hand of obscenities and spitting byte-sized gobs of abuse is no basis for forming a coherent policy of change. If the mass rallies planned for Jan 31 do not produce a tangible result and an agreed plan for further development of protest, then disillusion which is hovering in the wings, will take centre stage.

And now Syriza and Alexis Tsipras has burst upon the stage in Athens. Is this relative unknown to be a Greek hero in the mould of Athenian theatre, or a tragic figure, or ultimately an Icarus burning his wings in the flames when he challenges the Sun Gods of Finance and Politics. If nothing else he is focusing minds. He is making brave demands that are threatening to rattle the foundations of the European dream but then the Gods of Brussels feel sure they can swot this impudent Greek. Or can they? A lot will depend upon whether we in Ireland, and others in suffering countries such as Spain, Portugal, and Italy, not to mention the newbies from the former Soviet Union who were getting their first experiences of what might be theirs of right in future, whether we will find common cause and stand together with Greece. That requires leaders who have the courage and the vision to lead. It requires followers who are willing to work together in a consensus rather than fight over compromises. And, above all, it requires people who will not flinch when they look the opponent in the eyes. It looks like we are living in interesting times and whether that is a Chinese curse, or not, is for us to decide.