Bertie and The Inquisition

David McWilliams has written that Bertie Ahern's criticism of those who question the state of the economy is akin to the Inquisition and to the Church's reaction to Galileo who suggested the Earth was not centre of the universe. According to McWilliams, in both cases the Inquisitors were stamping out criticism to protect their own interests.

First about Bertie : to my knowledge, Bertie Ahern has never provided a coherent argument about why he believes the negative commentry is wrong. You see, Bertie doesn’t do reasoned coherent arguments. His remarks are usually about as clear as the mist rolling in over the Mull of Kintyre. He never makes an argument - he just huffs and puffs. I think the reason that his reaction now is a bit more significant is that he knows the Emperor is rather scantily clad. He knows in his heart that the Celtic tiger is merely concealling a very grave sickness. So it’s not just denial - as David suggests - Bertie knows fine well there are big shadows on the radar. He is angry that the naysayers won’t just leave him alone to operate his politicking after his own fashion. In fact, Bertie treats all critical voices the same way: those who speak out on the economy, the environment, our society, or opaque government are all just annoying noises preventing him from running his little fiefdom. For him, dissent is not the life blood of democracy, it's a hassle that ought to be pushed aside quickly with whatever measures he can get away with.

Back to the economy: Another part of the game is the soft-landing brigade. God knows, I am as keen as the next man for a soft landing instead of a hard one. But the curve in asset - read house - prices has been so steeply upwards that when it flattened it rather ressembled a huge machine racing along and knocked into neutral. Its momentum carries it for a while an will even propel it up small hills for a time. But unless it gets back in gear soon it will grind to a halt. If we meet a hill, the stop will be swift. Basically, a hard landing can begin softly. In the aftermath of the 1929 Crash, the stock market kept on crashing for 4 years. Little recoveries would suggest a bottom before each successive drop went deeper still. I wouldn’t push the analogy too far. This is not America in 1929. But the point is: house prices have just begun to fall and we don’t really know yet how far or for how long. So when the Inquisitors talk about soft landing they should be swiftly rebuted by asking, how on earth do you know?

Gleann dá loch

Thug mé cuairt ar Ghleann dá loch le mo thuismitheoirí ag deireadh na seachtaine seo caite. Bhí an t-ádh dearg orainn go raibh an ghrian ag scoilteadh na gcloch. Le mí anuas ní fhéadfá do chos a leagan taobh amuigh den doras de bharr na drochaimsire.

Rinne mo thuismitheoirí iontas den Ghleann agus de sheanbhallóg na mainistreach. Go hálainn agus fíorspéisiúil a dúirt m'athair i dtaobh na mainistreach agus an túir. Agus b'fhíor dó.

De réir mar a thuigim, bhunaigh Naomh Caoimhín an mhainistir sin sa séú haois. An séú haois! Is deacair an ré sin a shamhladh anois. B'ansin, i nGleann álainn an dá loch, a rinne sé macnamh ar an tsaol, ar an dúlra, agus ar an tsíoraíocht.

Tá na suíomhanna seo fíor-thábhachtach dúinne, nó go gcuireann siad ina luí orainne go raibh sibhialtacht ann - anseo in Éirinn - i bhfad romhainne, agus gur chaith na daoine sin tréimhse ar an talamh seo, gur mhair siad, go ndearna siad iontas den tsaol seo, gur fhulaing siad, gur smaointigh siad ar an tsaol eile, agus gur imigh siad, amach ar shlí na fírinne.

Ag macnamh ar na daoine sin, i bhfad siar, tig rud amháin i mo cheann: gur fada an lá ag an uaigh orainn. Sea, ní thugann rud ar bith ach seal beag gairid.

Agus rud eile - nuair a d'imigh Naomh Caoimhín agus a chairde, d'fhág siad an tír seo againne, agus d'fhág siad an eaglais agus an túr ina ndiaidh. Agus mhair dhá scór glún idir an dá linn, is gur fhág chuile ghlúin acu siúd na séadchomharthaí seo don chéad ghlúin eile. Ba chóir dúinne an rud céanna a dhéanamh.

Mar sin, molaim go gcuirfí cosc ar dhaoine siúl isteach tríd an reilig i measc na leac uaighe. Bíonn déagóirí ag léimniú thart is ag siúl ar na leaca. Bíonn na mílte daoine ar cuairt ann le linn an tsamhraidh is ba chóir go ligfí isteach iad faoi mhaoirseacht is go mbeadh súil á coinneáil ar an tséadchomtharha féin.

Is lómhar agus is iontach an áit í. Ba chóir dúinn í a chaomhnú dóibh siúd atá le teacht.

The Greedy Farmer

Now we know. The Farmers are indeed the most parochial, selfish, mean-spirited lobby of them all. One motive lies behind their objection to more access to walking routes: pure untempered greed. They see an opportunity to squeeze another unearned euro of poor old Joe Public.

I am a keen hillwalker and I know the countryside pretty well. The vast bulk of hillwalkers are responsible people who are mindful about the countryside and the environment. Not only that, by definition, it's in their interest to keep the countryside in good shape. Most that I know are highly conscious about littering the countryside; they dutifully close gates after the pass through; they keep distance from animals and private dwellings.

Furthermore the vast bulk of the most interesting walks lie in the least productive farmlands - usually uplands covered in bog or rock.

The other striking fact is that farmers are the most heavily subsidised workers in the country. About half of their farm earnings come as a subsidy. And these matters are decided by politicians who always keep one eye on public opinion. If the public attitude hardens against farmers, politicians will feel they can make deeper cuts in farm subsidies. No Matter. It seems the farmer is conditioned to severe the hands that feeds him.

All reasonable people know that the tiny incidence of misbehaviour among hillwalkers can be dealt with. And agreements can be made about how to use potetial walk ways. No particular genious is required - it's all been done elsewhere. Why not here?

The other thing is that many rural communities - especially on the Western seaboard - will come to depend more and more on incomes from tourism. Small farmers have a role to play here in partnership with the tourism industry. Various co-operative schemes can be imagined. But it's certainly in the medium to long term interest of these small farmers to see tourist numbers increase. Walkers can be a big part of that. Our coastal walks are stunningly beautiful and have enormous potential.

So it's rather sad to see the farmers dig in on an issue where, really, they have nothing to gain from their blind intransigence, and very very much to lose. So ok famers, dig in, but the clock is ticking on your subsidies, and next time the begging bowl is out, we, the public will make up a bogus constitutional argument about why we cannot help.

Doctors not Special

Many media commentators have expressed their shock that those arrested for the recent attacks in Britain were doctors. Had these men been engineers, no-one would have raised an eyebrow. But doctors! Why do people still allow their critical faculties to be subdued by the old fallacy that doctors are a higher form of human being?

How on earth, people have asked, could doctors perpetrate these barbaric crimes? The answer of course is simple: because they are human. The medical profession gladly competed to get into Hitler's vile T4 program, which was set up to purify their race by murdering thousands of disabled people, many of them children. That they had studied medicine and professed a desire to heal gave them no immunity from the loathsome, perverse ideas that drove the Nazis.

We should remember that there are many reasons why people become doctors: the reward of healing people, the joy of applying an interesting science, family encouragement or even pressure, and, as often as not, because it pays well.

In the past, doctors (with lawyers and the clergy) were part of a social elite by virtue of their education and their specialist knowledge in an age when these were rare. Nowadays, thankfully, a huge swathe of the population have access to higher education. The doctor no longer seems so special. Doctors are not now seen as infallible. Indeed, better outcomes nowadays are achieved when the doctor treats the patient as an equal.

The attacks in Britain show us that a whiff of superiority still hangs over medicine. The notion that doctors are different is elitist and simply wrong, and it should not be indulged.

Off Their Trolleys

The Farmers Markets, or to use the correct term Formers Morkets, are never going to make any difference to how we shop or eat. In today's indo Martina Devlin writes that she would shop at the farmers markets if only they were well run. She'd happily pay an extra 20c for organic bread. But wait a minute: have you been to a Formers Morket lately? We're not talking about 20c here. It's more like 2 euros. Clean supermarket carrot = 20c, dirty Formers Morket 60c. Little plastic (plastic mind you) pot of olives, 5 eu. Right lads. The only thing thats organic there is the piss being taken out of the monied punters. Besides, not all of the produce at these Morkets is organic. The other trouble with the Morket is time: who in God's name has time to pick up the kids on the way from work, then drive to the Morket to pick up the organic leeks? I mean, come on. No, sorry, we are not going to get to know our local producer again and we're not going to know the soiled hands that toil with our dirty carrots. Here's all I want: supermarkets that are well designed, well run, and stocked with a good variety of fresh fruit and veg - organic and otherwise. At the end of the day, the old trolley is your only man.

The Shadow over Blair

In what amounts to a eulogy on Tony Blair, John Waters asks if the ex-PM's intervention in Kosovo wasn't "the most exemplary episode of leadership in our time"? Perhaps. But it was not Blair's leadership that was called into question; it was his judgement. About Blair's case for invading Iraq, Waters continues "the worst that can be said about Blair is that he exaggerated the danger to win public support". In fact, Blair decided to go to war way back before the inspection process was anywhere near exhausted. We now know that the intelligence community had grave difficulty with the way its information was presented. Basically, all the ifs, buts, and maybes were removed. Blair played a key role in this, and must have known that the evidence did not in fact show Saddam to be a serious threat. Nor did it link him with Al Queda and September 11th.


That Saddam's regime was a dictatorship could not have been the reason for war . Britain has since sold 70 fighter planes to Saudia Arabia, another dictatorship. Perhaps Blair felt Saddam deserved to be toppled for the heinous crimes he committed in the 80s when he was backed by the West. But Blair never put that case forward, nor was it ever likely that he would.


A final reason why Blair may have taken Britain to war is that he may have calculated that he would buy credit in Washington which he could draw down later for his projects in Africa or Palestine. If that is the case then he badly misjudged the intensity of Washington self interest and the limits of the Britain's special relationship with the US.

Blair is indeed an extraordinary politician and his achievements for Britain and the Labour party should not be minimized. But they are overshadowed by the terrible error of dragging his country into a prolonged and bloody conflict with no positive gain. The catastrophe in Iraq will compromise British and American intervention in the region for at least a generation and has considerably reduced the likelihood of success in the so called, War on Terror.

The Fall

Until recently I was full sure that I was McGuinness, or MacAonghusa, and therefore descended from one of the ancient Ulster clans from Co Down. Son of Aonghus, or in old Irish, Óengus - the young God. Now, for you mere mortals, I'll have you know that it's rather reassuring to know that one's lineage is not merely noble, but divine!

After a chat with my father about how several grand uncles found their way to America, I decided to do some research on the family tree. My first inquiries with family elders revealed what was to be a disturbing fact: our name had been "McGinney" until about two generations back. If this were to be confirmed, I would have to cede my place among the deities.

The story ran like this: a parish priest advised a great grand parent at the christening of her first child that the name McGinney was inccorrect. McGinney, he contended, just didn't sound right; it was a vulgar colloqualism forMcGuinness, the proper form of the name. The priest insisted that child be given the correct version of the name. My great granny gave in. Surely the parish priest couldn't be wrong. A local schoolteacher confirmed that the priest was right: the name was McGuinness.

In the world of my dear old ancestor, the priest and the teacher were wells of wisdom where the submissive peasant would come to drink. And so it was that old Mrs McGinney surrendered her own name in deference to those with learning.

The implications of this were so great - I would be merely human again - that I contended that it was no more than a family myth. All families have their mythology, their tall stories, their heroes and their victims. The Great Name Change was one of ours.

But a visit to the National Archives was to confirm my worst fears. Microfilm IP46 shattered the pleasing and romantic notion that the blood in my veins was that of an Ulster Chief of the twelfth century. It contained the birth and marriage certs of my ancestors - the McGinnys. I was no longer a God! I wasn't even royal. No, my pedigree was lower still. My real name, McGinney, or MacGéibheannaigh, means 'son of the incarcerated'.