Hag of Beara

Its Getting Crowded at the Altar.

2009-05-11T00:10:00.003+01:00

My, it’s getting awfully crowded at the altar of gay marriage advocacy. We now have four LGB organisations jockeying to take the lead on same sex partnership rights. It would seem that NLGF is no longer content to wrestle only with the financial ups and downs of GCN but they too have entered the fray as the champions of same sex marriage. That makes three by my reckoning. MarriagEquality from whose website one would be forgiven for thinking that Ireland is the 51st state of the USA, (Mary Harney would be pleased- “closer to Boston than Berlin”), LGBT Noise whose idea of youth rebellion is to be just like dear old mum and dad, and then of course there is GLEN with their particular approach to same sex partnerships borne of their grace and favour relationship with Fianna Fail.

Meanwhile, in the real world, queers are contending with homophobia, harassment, poverty, bullying in schools, isolation in rural areas, abandonment by their families, denigration from pulpits and St Peter’s Square, victims of hate crimes and bigotry, queers are members of ethnic minorities, are senior citizens, have disabilities, have children and are afraid to come out of the closet. But they’ll obviously have to wait in line for attention because the money and the kudos is in the gay marriage industry.

And that’s really what this is all about, another LGB organisation wanting some of the power and action and of course the limelight. Gay marriage is sexy, working to support elderly gays in rural areas who have no support networks or challenging Catholic schools who discriminate against lesbian and gay teachers just doesn’t pull in the dosh or the guaranteed divadom that wedding bells do. Arrogance and egotism are the driving forces, neo-liberalism and we- know- what’s- best- for- you, the modus operandi. The result is an absence of listening, the desertion of the most vulnerable in our communities and the demonization of those with a dissenting view.

In pursuit of the cause of gay marriage, I have heard its public advocates undermine single parent families in order to extol the virtues of two parent same sex families (LGBT Noise). I have squirmed as privileged, middle class, white women compare themselves to the victims of white supremacy and of South African apartheid, demeaning the experience and abusing the language of those generations whose very lives have been on the line in the fight for black civil rights (MarriagEquality & KAL). I have watched as the experience of lesbian and gay families have been reduced to a bargaining chip to exalt the positions of a few gay men with aspirations to power (GLEN) and now the NLGF steps up to the plate in an effort to give itself meaning and a slice of the pie.

Civil marriage should be available to lesbian and gay couples, but so also should a range of options to formalise our intimate relationships as same sex and heterosexual couples because the right to have choices is a much more fundamental and democratic principle in need of recognition and protecting. I have a problem with the hypocrisy that underlies a lot of what passes for campaigning on the issue, whether it is the irony of ardent advocates of gay marriage who have exploited the absence of same sex partnership rights in their past relationships to ensure that their material gains outweighed any natural justice or, who pontificate about coming out after having sat closeted in public positions for many years, while others did the dangerous work of making it safe to be out and proud, or those who are so intent to sanitise being queer that they eschew any meaningful political connection with their own community.

No one seems to mention that since the passing of civil partnerships in the UK, including the North, there is no appetite for civil marriage. In fact the only people fetishizing marriage are the extreme right and the gay marriage movement. Strange bedfellows indeed. In fact, they both appear to draw their inspiration from the same school of dogmatism.

White is the New Black!

2009-03-20T11:53:00.007Z

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart

M - Th 11p / 10c

The New White Face of Crime

comedycentral.com

Daily Show Full Episodes

Important Things w/ Demetri Martin

Political Humor

Thinking about Icons

2009-03-01T16:38:00.010Z

GCN’s recent uninspiring or should that be uninspired list of queer icons got me thinking about the kind of people who have fulfilled that role in my own life:

I take my queer icons seriously. Maybe because coming out in 1980 meant you had to take yourself seriously because by God every homophobe within a 10 mile radius took the presence of a queer seriously. So seriously, they sent you death threats. And in a place like The North, where 1 in every 10 was much more likely to have access to guns than a homosexual orientation, you took the threats seriously.

I lost count of the death threats a long time ago, the ones that linger in memory are the more creative ones: opening up the community centre one morning to find that the early morning Brit Patrol had left a rather graphic depiction of what I needed to make me straight spray-painted on the wall, the postcard from Alicante signed with the pseudonym used by loyalist paramilitaries, sent to my mother’s address where I no longer lived, telling her that I was HIV positive and should be erased ( I still have that postcard), or the phone call at 3am in the morning to my family home to communicate the intention that a better job would be done on me than on Bernadette Devlin ( who had just survived an assassination attempt.

So having queer icons to respect, to emulate and gain strength from was a lifeline that kept me afloat. I was reminded this week of one of the earliest people who threw me such a lifeline because she has just paid a flying visit to Dublin. I first saw Peggy Shaw and her partner and co-performer, Lois Weaver in 1984 in the Old Museum Arts Centre situated near the junction of what was the nocturnal wasteland of Belfast City Centre and the entrance to the Lower Falls Road. Split Britches blew me away. I had never seen two mature, challenging, elegant, articulate dykes stand on a stage in the full power of their butch and femme personae to critique with style, intelligence and such incredible sexiness the society and culture we lived in that denigrated queers and women who refused to conform. None but the brave came to Belfast in those days and these two women were heroic. Split Britches were the first activist-performers I had ever encountered and my world stretched and luxuriated in the possibilities that their very existence presented.

In the years since, I have been privileged to meet, hear, see and be mentored by a panoply of diverse women and men who taught me to question accepted views, take courage in who and what I am, to understand the importance of celebrating the perverse and to revel in the unorthodox. People who demonstrate the art of the possible by using the experience of discrimination to envision change. They are my icons, not all of them queer, but who gave this queer faith- the strugglers, the dissenters, the architects of challenge and change, trade unionists, poets, musicians, journalists, inner city community activists and even an Irish President; those who speak, write and sing out, naming shame and calling it oppression, the questioners of authority who call out hypocrisy and refuse bigotry a hearing. Women and men who stand for the weak and the vulnerable, embracing those of us perceived as different and dangerous.

My icons have to inspire me, to teach me, to include me, to lift my spirit and keep me hopeful. And there aren’t too many of those chatting on couches on RTE daytime television.

Happy Dance

2009-02-21T22:40:00.002Z

You cant see me do this- but right now, I'm doing the "happy dance" ( wiggling hips, waving hands in the air, big shit-eating grin on my face) cos my pal MP just won

Best Blogger in Ireland

Chachacha!

We need more than a march

2009-02-21T21:54:00.010Z

Well, we were out in our tens of thousands. Gardai figures say 100,000 plus but if ever an occasion bursting with potential was wasted, it was today. Where was the creativity, the spontaneity, the surge to build a movement, the taking back of lost territory and forging a new kind of people’s politics.

Marching bands from the Fire Brigade and Prison Officers Unions along with the community salsa band were all placed in the first quarter of the march. Where were the loudhailers spitting chants and slogans? We marched like sheep quietly, obediently shepherded by well-organised and extremely pleasant and accommodating stewards, sans anger and passion. Where was the maximising of the energy that got us out on the street, giving it voice and sensation in all its myriad possibilities?

Where were the major NGO and voluntary sector organisations to-day, apart from the half dozen small groupings who will always turn out reliably? Where were those NGOs swollen by philanthropic funds and an over-familiarity with government, the gatekeepers to representation, the professionalised class of liberals who have sucked the life-blood from what was once a vibrant, organic, model of people’s democracy and participation? Did they need to bring in consultants to tell them where they should be? Were they not interested because it was outside of their 35 hour a week paid contracts?

At the end rally only a few thousand were lucky enough to even hear the ICTU President (one of my favourite activists) and General Secretary speak because march stewards blocked off the street where the platform was located from the remaining 90,000 or more still finishing the route. Loudspeakers were non -existent outside of the cordoned off street and by the time the key figures had spoken and the rally dispersed, marchers were still flooding into nearby streets. I had expected to hear speeches not just telling us what the problem is- we all know that by know- but outlining actions and activities to take this enormous physical manifestation of protest further. Instead, we were instructed to put our placards in the appointed skips to prevent littering and consciously or not the inference was, that we wouldn’t be needing them again. Then we were thanked for coming. Sin e. We were marched to the top of the hill and abandoned. It felt like political coitus interruptus.

We, the people, the workers, the unemployed, the vulnerable in our inestimable diversity, were lined up, walked through the streets almost mutely and sent on our way home at the end. Goddamn it! The Celtic Tiger and its sanitised, single issue-focused culture requiring genuflection at the altar of professional expertise and polite dialogue has diminished and suppressed our instincts for innovative thinking and action. We need to do something beyond worshipping at the church of masochism where the talk is all about taking a hit and hairshirts and start singing, performing, demonstrating and producing the rainbow of possibilities that collective, organic change can bring. We need agitprop, we need localised action groups, we need a palpable and consistent sensation of our priorities that lingers longer than the hour and half it took to walk through the city centre.

We need a leadership that recognises that all of that and more must be encouraged, accommodated and promoted. That means an opposition leadership of more than one entity or power bloc, not just the trade union movement or political opposition parties- the times and our survival demand it. Yes, the trade union movement have put forward a 10 point plan of alternative economic recovery and we want the government to take cognisance of it, but we need more than a single one-off march and a few days of strike action.

We need a leadership to embolden the unemployed, the redundant, the anxious, the embattled but still employed, whole communities, families, churches, discriminated groups, jugglers and strugglers to act, to agitate, to create, to imagine alternatives, to envision the change and make it happen.

We got here because we failed to adequately challenge a corrupt government party, inept, self-interested coalition parties and their cronies in high finance and venture capital. No more. We have to use every means possible to resurrect first principles of social justice. There must be no more following the unimaginative, the sterile march-to-the -top –of- the hill- and –then-hurtle- down- again politics, no matter who calls upon us to do so.

Name them and Nail them!

2009-02-20T13:19:00.004Z

Hello? Hello? Earth to Mc Evaddy... can you hear us inside that bubble of supreme disconnect with reality..your leaking gas out yer ass.

I have no doubt that Mc Evaddy’s Golden Circle pals sent him out to see if we would swallow anymore guff, painting them as national heroes who unselfishly shouldered the weight of carrying the Anglo-Irish Bank, no doubt until their pals in Fianna Fail bludgeoned the country into paying up and shutting up to bail them out.

Like the rest of the country,I’m incandescent with rage at the extent to which we are being treated like cannon-fodder for the big guns of capitalism. However, I honestly do not know why we are putting so much energy into demanding that Anglo- Irish’s Golden Shower of Bastards are named unless we are prepared to also put as much and more energy into ensuring that we nail them and their accomplices in Fianna Fail. They need to do hard time for grievous bodily harm to the country and its people.

Back to the Future

2009-02-18T23:24:00.001Z

Definitely time for a new version of this ( preferably without Mick Hucknall), just substitute Reaganomics with Cowenomics.

I'm Still Waiting

2009-02-18T22:35:00.003Z

Well, its been 2weeks since I sent the following email to GLEN:

Dear GLEN

Is there any possibility at all that you will provide information about current issues which have impacted on the LGB community in which GLEN is directly involved:

1. Perhaps some clarification on why the Chairman of GLEN continues to sit on the Board of the Equality Authority, despite the resignation of the CEO and half of the board, what is the rationale for this?

2. Information as to how many lesbians have recently resigned from the board of GLEN and the reasons for those resignations. Given that gender balance in GLEN was never a model of good practice, these resignations raise serious questions as to whether or not it has any chance of ever being so.

3. What response has GLEN made to the proposed Adoption Bill on overseas adoptions which makes no accommodation for same sex couples?

Like the song goes- I'm still waiting

Same Horse, Different Course

2009-02-12T09:52:00.003Z

In Britain, a prominent member of the ruling elite is caught using a racist slur against a minority and he is packed off to diversity training.

In Ireland a prominent member of the ruling elite uses a racist slur against a minority and we make him Minister of Integration.

J'accuse

2009-02-07T19:55:00.003Z

“This is not good governance and the situation must be addressed urgently. The chair of the Equality Authority should resign immediately, having signally failed to protect the interests of her own organisation and presided over the resignation of the chief executive and now up to half the board. I publicly call upon her today to do so. In addition, the tattered remnants of the serving board should also pack up their kit and salvage what little dignity they have left. Like the ancient Israelites, they are being commanded to make bricks without straw. We are not living in the middle kingdom of ancient Egypt. We are in a 21st century European democracy and they should land this task, which has been deliberately made impossible, back in the lap of the Government. The fraudulence of the Government’s pretended commitment to human rights should be publicly exposed.” Seanad debate 5/2/09

Senator David Norris yet again has risen to defend human rights and equality with all the gusto, conviction and eloquence we have come to expect of him. We should thank whatever god we pray to for his unfailing consistency in this respect, for the same cannot be said of some of our other LGB spokespeople. Norris was unequivocal in his condemnation of the Chair of the Equality Authority Board, Angela Kerins for her role as henchwoman in ensuring that the hatchet fell where it would do most damage. He has challenged remaining Board members of the EA to do the decent thing and resign rather than collude with the destruction of the Authority.

His undiluted disgust at their continuing to remain on the Board was refreshing to this blogger’s ears. Because no one else appears ready to name the hypocrisy that allows members of NGO organisations to provide cover for the destruction of one of, if not THE most important rights agency in Ireland. Niall Crowley was effectively pushed from his position as CEO, because anyone who knows the man and the depth of his commitment to equality, knows that it was untenable for him to remain in that position while everything he believed in and had laboured to achieve was being systematically demolished by the government and its plants on the EA board.

Some Board members have already resigned in support of Crowley and in protest at the disproportionate level of cuts incurred by the EA and the Minister’s outright refusal to consider any alternatives. Nevertheless, there are those who remain to give credibility to the pathetic husk of what is left of the agency.

While GLEN participates in the Equality & Rights Alliance established to fight the cuts and attacks on rights and equality bodies, Chair of the GLEN board, Kieran Rose continues to sit on the board of the EA overseeing the implementation of the cuts on the Authority. Rose claims he is on the EA as an individual. He is deliberately splitting hairs. The EA’s track record in promoting lesbian and gay equality is outstanding. Niall Crowley made LGB rights a priority from the moment he took up his post, by appointing a specific officer on sexual orientation issues and making LGB equality the subject of the very first report produced by the Authority. Kieran Rose as an individual gay man and as head of a national gay organisation has much to be thankful for in Crowley’s stewardship of the EA, but he repays him and the EA by actively colluding with a government that has made it impossible for the Equality Authority to ever be able to support and promote LGB rights to the same extent again.

Save us the trouble of pretending to care.

2009-02-03T21:14:00.005Z

Ok- I give up, I cant find it! I dont want to play hunt the response anymore, its too frustrating. I'm tired of this game because there's no point looking for something that isnt there, thats just silly. There is no public response from LGB organisations on the new Adoption Bill. The Bill makes no reference to and no accommodation for overseas adoptions by same sex couples. So, can we also stop playing that other game where our self-appointed LGB spokespeople pretend to be interested in children's rights and same sex couples. It would save so much time and save so many people from having raised expectations of LGB organisations who have no interest in same sex couples and children unless it's politically convenient for them.

Viva Cuba

2009-01-21T23:33:00.004Z

It is pretty cool to wake up on my birthday, the first working day of a new US Presidency and to know that the guy in the White House is someone I did my little bit to help put there. In fact, to-day had all the ingredients for a day of feeling smug and it was tempting. However, not actually possible when reality is leaving teeth marks in your ass.

Because here in the political boglands, no one seems to be in charge. The economy is on a one -way bungee jump on a fraying elastic, the dole offices are the only workplaces recruiting for staff, cutbacks are slicing through essential services, government politicians are stuttering and spluttering and when they eventually do make a response its total bilge, our equality and rights agencies are fast disappearing, only banks and bankers have been given parachutes, the weather is enough to induce mass suicide and the only thing we have going for us, is that we are not at war with anyone, yet. (Although it would be tempting to declare it on Israel, after all they say war’s good for the economy and they have it coming and we're a long way away from each other.)

So, next year I’m going to Cuba. I’m going to spend my 50th birthday there. Anyone who wants to come and celebrate with me is most welcome. I don’t know how I’m going to afford it, but … ( Scarlet O’Hara moment coming up) so help me, if I have to beg, steal, borrow, hijack, abduct and hold to ransom the first born child of every overpaid politician in the cabinet, I will find the wherewithal to party in Havana by next January.

Countdown to the end of a Presidency and a new career as a Standup

2009-01-20T01:26:00.001Z

A Blessing

2009-01-19T01:52:00.003Z

Unfortunately, the blessing invoked by Bishop Gene Robinson was not televised at the WE ARE ONE Concert in Washington DC to celebrate Barack Obama's inauguration today. A broadcasting decision that will undoubtedly stoke further controversy in the days to come. But before the Bishop's prayer gets lost in the arguments that will follow, I thought I'd post it because it is beautiful in its simplicity and truth.

By The Rt. Rev. V. Gene Robinson, Episcopal Bishop of New Hampshire

Opening Inaugural Event
Lincoln Memorial, Washington, DC
January 18, 2009

Welcome to Washington! The fun is about to begin, but first, please join me in pausing for a moment, to ask God’s blessing upon our nation and our next president.

O God of our many understandings, we pray that you will…

Bless us with tears – for a world in which over a billion people exist on less than a dollar a day, where young women from many lands are beaten and raped for wanting an education, and thousands die daily from malnutrition, malaria, and AIDS.

Bless us with anger – at discrimination, at home and abroad, against refugees and immigrants, women, people of color, gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people.

Bless us with discomfort – at the easy, simplistic “answers” we’ve preferred to hear from our politicians, instead of the truth, about ourselves and the world, which we need to face if we are going to rise to the challenges of the future.

Bless us with patience – and the knowledge that none of what ails us will be “fixed” anytime soon, and the understanding that our new president is a human being, not a messiah.

Bless us with humility – open to understanding that our own needs must always be balanced with those of the world.

Bless us with freedom from mere tolerance – replacing it with a genuine respect and warm embrace of our differences, and an understanding that in our diversity, we are stronger.

Bless us with compassion and generosity – remembering that every religion’s God judges us by the way we care for the most vulnerable in the human community, whether across town or across the world.

And God, we give you thanks for your child Barack, as he assumes the office of President of the United States.

Give him wisdom beyond his years, and inspire him with Lincoln’s reconciling leadership style, President Kennedy’s ability to enlist our best efforts, and Dr. King’s dream of a nation for ALL the people.

Give him a quiet heart, for our Ship of State needs a steady, calm captain in these times.

Give him stirring words, for we will need to be inspired and motivated to make the personal and common sacrifices necessary to facing the challenges ahead.

Make him color-blind, reminding him of his own words that under his leadership, there will be neither red nor blue states, but the United States.

Help him remember his own oppression as a minority, drawing on that experience of discrimination, that he might seek to change the lives of those who are still its victims.

Give him the strength to find family time and privacy, and help him remember that even though he is president, a father only gets one shot at his daughters’ childhoods.

And please, God, keep him safe. We know we ask too much of our presidents, and we’re asking FAR too much of this one. We know the risk he and his wife are taking for all of us, and we implore you, O good and great God, to keep him safe. Hold him in the palm of your hand – that he might do the work we have called him to do, that he might find joy in this impossible calling, and that in the end, he might lead us as a nation to a place of integrity, prosperity and peace.

AMEN.

The Order of Superior Entitlement

2009-01-14T20:01:00.001Z

Back in the early 90s, as Northern Orangemen flexed their marching muscles determined to stride down Garvaghy Road, one often heard argument supporting their invasion of a Catholic housing estate was their self-proclaimed ‘entitlement to walk the Queen’s highway’. Quaint and anachronistic though the phrase, “the Queen’s highway” is, it was in the assertion of entitlement that the Orange Order demonstrated their belief that they were superior to their Catholic neighbours.

Of late, there has been no shortage in Ireland of arrogant, self- obsessed egotists promoting their over-riding indulgences. Despite their numbers, entitlement proclaimers are universally identifiable by an unfailing belief in their own superiority, breath-taking arrogance, contempt for the lower orders, in particular those who would question them and are unshakeable in their self- righteousness.

An example is one, Mr Rody Molloy, profligate extraordinaire of Fas who declared on the Pat Kenny show that he was entitled to fly first class anywhere in the world by virtue of the fact that he was Rody Molloy and CEO of Fas. RTE listeners took a deep intake of breath. Unfettered access to first class air travel and other expensive perks were, Mr Molloy felt, his due. His irascibility at Kenny’s questioning of his expenses, proved the extent to which Molloy felt that his own sense of inflated status should exempt him from any calling to account.

For outstanding chutzpah (Real Player required), it would have to be Mr Sean Fitzpatrick, who felt entitled as a captain of finance and industry and board director with Anglo-Irish Bank, to provide himself with an 87 million euro loan from said bank without any need to divulge his activity to the bank’s shareholders. His fellow board members appear to have agreed with him, dazzled no doubt by his overpowering aura of superiority.

More recently, when Beverly Flynn, fleecer of the public purse, claimed that she too was ‘entitled’ to an independent TD’s allowance in addition to her allowance as an FF TD, her pronouncement was made in a well- that’s- all- there- is- to- it- so –there tone. Entitlement it would seem requires no further explanation or clarification. Entitlement presumes that those who have it, declare it and flaunt it are beyond the reach of such mundanities as ethics or fiscal restraints.

But entitlement in the hands of true masters can excuse more than lining one’s own pockets or screwing the taxpayer, it can even justify the slaughter of innocents. The entitlement to defend one’s self as pronounced by Israel would appear to be the only reply it needs to defend the destruction of the Gaza Strip and the extermination of any of its population who get in the way. And unfortunately, they do tend to get in the way, given that there are so many of them and they are kind of, well, penned in.

Belief in one’s own superiority is essential to the understanding of entitlement. Those who are superior to others have entitlements, those who are vulnerable, dispossessed and discriminated against have rights but in the entitled world, entitlements trump rights, trump ethics, trump international laws, trump truth, trump life, trump everything.

The Smell of Things to Come

2009-01-07T16:19:00.000Z

Fearful anticipation has a smell all of its own. It smells like breath held a beat too long, the scent of anxious eyes and a body steeled to run. I know you are thinking those things do not smell but they do. It is the smell immediately before sweat breaks, the odour emitted before undiluted fear reigns. It is most marked in the agitated moments, sometimes the hours, before terror consumes all.

In a crowded street where the heave of human activity fills every available space and where there are more people than possible escape routes; on a darkened road, where every movement is a potential threat, in unlit homes barricaded against armed invaders while the rumble of heavy engines draw nearer, its’ smell is most pervasive.

In Gaza, its’ acrid smell will have taken up residence between the bombed out buildings on rubbled streets. It will be piled up in the sewage-ridden gutters and seeping into the corners of rooms where huddled children watch the skies, waiting. It is the stench of powerlessness, of living with terror, of knowing the inevitability of sudden, indiscriminate, violent death. By now, it is clinging to the clothes of the people, blanketed over the roof of Shifa Hospital, wafting down its blood-strewn corridors. It is wrapped around the hills of Beit Hanoun and Gaza City, pungent and unrelenting.

Grit TV on Invasion of Gaza

2009-01-06T12:29:00.001Z

Singing out the Year

2009-01-04T12:03:00.001Z

Wuhoo I just learned to embed a video- there'll be no stopping me now- tomorrow I take Manhattan!

Dodging the Debate

2009-01-03T14:14:00.000Z

Not for the first time, I’ve noticed how there are certain subjects on which it is nigh on impossible to engage in reasonable debate. The most pressing subject at the moment is the Israeli attacks on Gaza. Yet, anyone exhibiting support or concern for Palestinians in that tiny strip of land is immediately assailed by the kind of accusations and justifications that defy logic, morality and compassion.

In these retorts, the deaths of 16 Israelis from Hamas rocket attacks in the last year is more than justification for a sustained air offensive against an area the size of the Isle of Wight and home to 1.5million people, the deaths of 400 of their number and 2000 injured (at the time of writing). Proportionate and appropriate are unheard of definers. Only Israel’s “right to defend itself” is of importance, the military might of the Israeli Defence Forces, the range of unchallenging political support it receives from Western governments, the highly questionable legitimacy of its territorial claims and its flagrant contravention of international covenants and agreements are neither here nor there, for it is made clear by those who defend its actions that no amount of Palestinian lives will ever equate to one Israeli life. In the face of such irrationality there really is nowhere to go. It’s not even as if those of us who are concerned about Israel’s actions have actively sought out discussion with holders of Israel’s might is right views, unfortunately, it is quite the contrary. Anyone expressing any sympathy or the least care for the plight of Palestinans is homed in on like a heat seeking missile by Zionist apologists and excoriated in whatever media comes to hand.

The assault has a detectable pattern-: response is swift and immediate, for many it is wholly unexpected and thus having been taken by surprise, many are unaware of just how vicious the exchange is going to be. It contains not only Zionist arguments as to why excessive military action is required against the ‘terrorists’ but will accuse the original correspondent of naivety, stupidity, collusion, collaboration and general bleeding heart liberalism- the aim of which is to make the attack personal and thus avoid any engagement in political reasoning for such is not the protagonist’s forte. It is a highly successful strategy and has silenced numerous individuals. It also has a disconcerting similarity to Israel’s strategy against Palestine.

Obama’s People: An Ohio community working for Change.

2008-11-09T17:32:00.004Z

I don’t ever recall getting up for any man at 4.30am but that’s what happened on election day, 4th November when I reported for my last day of volunteer duty in Ohio at the Cuyahoga Falls, Akron, Obama campaign office. Six cups of coffee later, I was hitting the ‘turf’ maps and lists, prioritising the most numerous ‘knocks’ and assigning them to our best and most thorough volunteer canvassers. Each local area had been “cut into turf”- a number of streets and apartment blocks to be canvassed. The number and location of houses or knocks were indicated on each turf map or ‘packet’ identifying the targets for each canvasser- to get out and knock on those doors, find out who had voted early, gauge who was voting Obama, who McCain and who was as yet undecided. Each piece of turf was hit 3 times during the week running up to the election. The last run on the eve of the election we placed “doorhangers” on every door to remind people to vote and telling them where their polling station was situated. On election day we began at 5.30am, all the turfs had to be revisited to get the vote out. The commitment of volunteers was incredible, many of them went out 4 and 5 times that day taking new ‘packs’ with them of areas and addresses to be knocked. The weather was glorious having gone from the previous week’s low, snowing 30s to a balmy 70F degrees. I spent the day assigning packs to volunteers, explaining what had to be done and how best to get it done, taking back the finished packs and eliminating householders who had already voted and then re-sending them out again a few hours later to hit those householders who had yet to vote. We continued until 7pm in the evening as the polls did not close until 7.30pm in Ohio and once a voter was in line by 7.30pm they could still vote.

Meanwhile we had a runner from the Red Team who had the responsibility of visiting all the local polling stations on an hourly cycle to call in any problems that might be occurring to the neighbourhood office and keeping the central command office in Akron appraised of the turnout. At 5pm when she reported that there were no lines at the polling stations and the turnout was slow, we went into hyper mode, those turfs too big to revisit in the remaining time, we set about phoning to remind them to vote, telling them there were no queues and they should avail of the opportunity to cast their vote while it was so. It was nail-biting. We began to feel that perhaps we had not done enough, if no lines were in place at 7pm. But there were other more positive factors at work which had brought about the absence of long lines; a successful push to get people to early vote had seen daily queues at the early voting centre in Akron, added to the fact that the official in charge of the state of Ohio’s voting centres had scrupulously ensured that machines worked and that the actual act of voting was as hassle free as possible. Nevertheless, doubt lingered and the tension grew among all of us volunteers in the neighbourhood office. By 6.30pm, we were barely able to stand with exhaustion but adrenalin kicked in and we kept pushing the turf out to be canvassed and it was. With nothing to do but wait, we cleaned up our storefront office, put out the trash, took down the Obama posters, cleaned up the reams and reams of paper, threw out the extra campaign literature, cleared away the stale takeaway food we had been eating most of the day as we worked, but all the time the nerves were jangling, the fears were rising and the doubts kept nagging.

I spent a week campaigning in Akron, Ohio. I tramped several miles a day canvassing, hours on phones rounding up volunteers or ringing voters, setting up the co-ordination of turfs and canvassers and talking with the incredible range of people who showed up every day to volunteer in snow and sunshine to get the vote out for Obama.

There were Willie and John, two tireless Vietnam Vets in their late 60s and early 70s, white middle class Democrat women, Monica and Chris, (the former had allowed her home to be used as a staging location for canvassers earlier in the week until the storefront venue became available), high school kids whose Principles of Democracy class teacher suggested they give a number of hours to a campaign as a means of obtaining class credits. Most of the class volunteered to work for Obama, hence I met Caleb and his dad, Goth junior and senior as I came to think of them, in their black clothes and long hair, tramping streets and knocking on doors together and doing much more hours of volunteering than required to get Goth junior his class credits.

Debanuj, born in India, returned to his family home of Akron after 8years in New York where he had been an activist in radical queer politics. Everyday of the campaign he minced down the streets of Chayogua Falls encouraging white voters to elect Obama while eyeing up the talent amongst the new volunteers. Pat, a middle-aged, funny, bouncy, dyke who set the bar for all other canvassers, with 100 knocks a day, everyday and in all weather conditions. Mary, a healthcare worker and trade unionist, Mike who took 2 weeks vacation time from his job as a trucker to canvass for Obama, Ken the indefatigable CPA who went out every day after work and 5 times on election day, Nyesha, beautiful and glamorous who left her Jag parked illegally out front and ran in urging me to sign her up as a volunteer. I signed her up immediately- the girl had style. Surat, the quiet, thoughtful academic from Sri Lanka who canvassed every evening and expounded his deeply considered views of education in the USA over a curry one night after we had closed up shop.

Then there was Jen. Jen appeared in the office on election eve about 5pm. Small, wiry and red-haired she leaned on heavy crutches and begged, “ put me to work, I cant stand sitting at home watching on my TV, I HAVE to do something or I will go crazy.” I set her to ringing and confirming with volunteers their shifts for election day. Jen arrived again early on November 4th and made 187 calls to volunteers and voters. As her voice began to croak I took a smoke break with her. Just 14 months ago she had been returning from work on Route 8 and been hit head on by a drunk 17 year old driver. It took 12 hrs before Jen was cut out of her car. She spent the next 3 weeks in a coma, 6 months in a nursing home and is still receiving physiotherapy. Her legs remain twisted and one will never regain full power, but for Jen an independent activist, it was the inability to do as much as she wanted for the campaign that was proving her greatest test of endurance. It was with Jen that I shared the tension of the last few hours of doubt about polling figures and later sat speechless and tearful as we watched Ohio come in as a blue state for the first time in 8 years. As I left her to her ride home, she confessed that if Obama had not won she had made plans to move to Canada permanently, she doesn’t have to do that now.

White volunteers were clear that those they canvassed who identified as Democrat but resisted voting for Obama did so because of their racism, a racism which they challenged on doorsteps by addressing every other possible concern and then leaving the obvious reason, the resistance to the candidate’s colour, without a place to hide. On encountering Mc Cain supporters they said a simple thank you and wished them a good day with the kind of sincerity that only Americans seem capable of in greeting one another. The canvassers of colour took their own courage for granted, knocking on a constituency so white that it is known in Akron as Caucasian Falls, taking insults and enquiries with unflappable composure. Of course we had our battle stories each day; the Mc Cain supporter who ranted for a canvasser to “get that n****r’s shit of my porch”, the numerous tales of women who whispered that they intended to vote Obama but their husbands were voting Mc Cain and so unfortunately they could not take in the campaign’s literature, but we could be assured of their vote, the 80 year old white lady who yelled at one seasoned and startled activist, “ I haven’t lived all these years NOT to vote for a Black President – so who the hell do you think I’m going to vote for if not Obama?!” Each evening, I crawled into my pyjamas, exhausted but not wearied. These encounters, the fellowship and solidarity buoyed me anew every day of that final hard week of pounding pavements and porches.

Obama may have been these people’s inspiration, but they were also mine. Their dedication, their belief in a better America, their conviction that only through forging an alliance with one another and mobilising from neighbourhood level could the seemingly insurmountable be tackled. The way to create real change was apparent every day that I worked with them. I have never seen a bunch of such diverse and differently abled people prepared to put their shoulders to a wheel with such good natured and unsinkable spirit. They supported and encouraged one another, affirmed and respected whatever input each could make. They refused to give into the unthinkable even as the Republicans ratcheted up more bile and negativity against their candidate and their beliefs. They are the America that spoke out on election day and whose spokesman reflected all of their trials and their triumph so eloquently on the night of November 4th.

Something has been built in America, more far-reaching than any skyscraper, a movement of the forgotten, the invisible, the betrayed, an alliance of those who hoped against interminable odds, a force of people who kept faith with values and principles too long deserted by their politicians. Activists and housewives, senior citizens and high school kids, working mums and middle class professionals, academics and war veterans, care workers and CPAs, college students and ghetto kids united in a belief that in order to change what needed to be changed, they had to start where they stood. It was their demonstrable ability to care, to co-operate and to listen and reach out to one another that brought a man who told them, “ Yes We Can” to a moment of history where the most important thing that he must do for them now, as their President, is to keep listening and keep faith with them.

Back in the Saddle- so to speak

2008-10-06T00:14:00.005+01:00

Well, its been a while since this blog was active and I've been spurred on to relaunch it by my upcoming trip to the US ( of which more later). Its not that I've been sitting on my ass for the last two years, more like I've been a little sidetracked by the vagaries of life. However, sidetracks and detours apart, I have been pondering some of the double standards and hypocrisies closer to home and lamenting the critical condition of political movements and initiatives which have been thoroughly sanitised of all radical debate and analysis by the self-serving objectives of neo-liberalism.

Take for example, the LGB rights movement here at home. It's had a thorough laundering, been bleached and given a good starch and press until it is suitable to wear at even the most exclusive dinner parties. Queer has become quaint, dykes are dilettantes and gay pride has become gay posturing. The ultimate example is the lemming like rush to gay marriage, led by an LGB cabal, most notable for their uniformity- middle class, privileged and about as au fait with struggle as a wet lettuce. Now, nuptials are being self-righteously served up for breakfast, dinner and supper, no matter what our dietary needs. The assumption, nay the dictat is that we will all eat the same thing and like it. LGB equality is populated by divas enamoured by the spotlight and mother superior-types positioning themselves as the voice of LGB equality, talking at us and for us. We need many voices and many views. We need options that allow us all to make choices without fear of discrimination. So I'm advocating that we adopt that long, and honourable response of our forefathers and mothers from Wolfe Tone to Bernadette Devlin- dissent. Here's mine:

Wedded to a Single Option and Forsaking All Others: A Critique of the Current Drive for Same Sex Marriage

(Originally published, Irish Left Review April 29 2008)

… “just because an institution or a practice is rooted in tradition does not make it right.”

This statement appears in the position paper of MarriagEquality, the campaign to extend civil marriage to same sex couples. It is a statement with which I wholeheartedly concur; tradition and practice are not an infallible or a desirable means of according rights. However, it articulates a fundamental contradiction at the heart of that campaign and the position it has taken. The statement is made as a counter argument to those opposing same sex marriage, who use it to justify why marriage should continue to be an institution preserved for opposite sex couples. Taking the logic of MarriagEquality’s own statement, simply because certain rights are based in the tradition and practice of the institution of marriage does not make that institution right. Nevertheless, despite having made the above statement MarriagEquality are happy to endorse the institution of marriage.

The Masters Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master’s House

Herein lies a conundrum, for MarriagEquality is a campaign fronted by self-professed feminists who are now leading the charge towards an institution that has been the target of feminist ire and opprobrium for centuries. So why strengthen patriarchy’s most potent institution for ensuring women’s conformity and cementing social privilege and inequality? In the absence of any feminist or progressive critique emanating from the campaign it is hard to find an answer.

The uninterrogated pursuit of marriage to the exclusion of any other regularisation of family forms and partnerships has left the campaign open to allegations of ‘mé feinism’ as overheard recently in one discussion. Inevitably, it has led to a surge in the adoption of at best naïve and at worst reactionary politics and conservative values in the rush to support gay marriage. Perhaps, it is timely to remember the words of Audre Lorde, ‘the masters tools will never dismantle the masters house.’

There is no better example of this than the resurrection of one of the most contemptible of patriarchal disparagements used to demean women who do not conform by none other than Dublin Pride. “Always the Bridesmaid Never the Bride” is the 2008 theme for this year’s events in Dublin. MarriagEquality may disclaim any direct involvement in the theme’s adoption but they are uniquely responsible within LGB activism for endorsing marriage as the only form of legitimacy. No doubt, at some point the choice of theme will be justified as a post-modernist jibe invoking the tools of sexism to send-up the institution of marriage. To be even minimally convincing, the plea of post- modern irony would require a modicum of radical critique forged from an informed awareness of inequality.

However, this is Dublin Pride, whose idea of providing equality of access entails stranding wheelchair users on the edge of a steep, muddy embankment isolated from their friends and forced to reach their assigned ‘space’ through the terrain designated as the drag queens dressing area. When MarriagEquality eschews any critique of marriage preferring to present the institution as the panacea to all our rights deficits, then one can hardly expect Pride to do otherwise.

The Poor Are Always With Us

Marriage is being robustly promoted as the only explicit and exclusive means to full equality when it is actually an institution of privilege. Campaigners for gay marriage are silent on the fact that marriage as an institution rooted in tradition and practice bestows privileges to those within it. Those who are married are privileged over those who are not. The state through its agents and policies economically ensure, politically legislate for and socially enshrine that privilege. In order to be privileged there must be those over whom one has privilege. In the case of marriage, it is for instance, those for whom marriage is not a financially viable state - the poor. Couples in receipt of social welfare benefits are financially disadvantaged by marriage and so endeavour to maintain economic survival wherever possible by claiming as individuals. Otherwise, they are designated as cohabitants, their benefits means-tested and diminished accordingly. That is currently the situation in the straight world.

By promoting marriage as the singular means of achieving equality for same sex couples the campaign not only intends to extend the rights and privileges of marriage to lesbian and gays but to extend the disadvantages of a welfare system to same sex couples which punishes cohabitation for those reliant on welfare benefits. The adverse consequences should the campaign’s demand be fulfilled are not unknown to its proponents. Much of this information is contained in the ICCL report Equality for ALL Families ( 2006) which is drawn upon extensively in MarriagEquality’s own position paper. However, the alternative options and the complimentary requirements laid out in the ICCL report which would ensure or at the very least recognise the inequalities caused by privileging marriage over all other family forms are judiciously avoided in the MarriagEquality document. As it currently stands, it is a social and political initiative which would have difficulties complying with some basic poverty-proofing criteria.

You Are Not Out Till You’re Out!

Apart from the unwieldiness of the slogan, You Are Not Out Till You Are Out To Your TD which as a message lacks a certain ‘punch’, it has limited relevance to, or recognition of the risks its fulfilment would require for those whose lives are experienced in the absence of supportive networks. For instance, there are those who live in isolated rural areas, within hostile families and in communities where difference equates to a soft target. As has been said elsewhere, it is a slogan which implies that the blame lies with lesbians and gays. Without doubt, there are those campaigning for same sex marriage who made personal choices in the past not to come out no matter how urgent the need to confront homophobia and have had their own good reasons for doing so, unfortunately that sensibility has not translated to this element of the campaign. Ironically, for a campaign that is urging us all to be visible, there is no information or identification on its website as to who exactly comprises the campaign’s management board. Even the Iona Institute provides names and bios of its board under the ‘who we are’ section of its website.

And They All Lived Happily Ever After

There is an unfortunate Mills & Boon-like overture to the same sex marriage drive. It is a world where partnerships do not break down nor do they become a battleground. Gay marriage proponents are particularly coy on this aspect of long- term relationships. As activists for partnership rights we need to deal openly and effectively with rights in the event of partnerships breaking down. As well as filling the airwaves with love besotted same sex couples it would bring a necessary and pragmatic edge to the campaign to give an equal focus to the devastation wrought when long term partnerships are dissolved without benefit of any recognition of rights and contributions made by the individuals who entered into them. Partnership rights in the event of relationship breakdown, in terms of equal treatment and fair distribution of assets is as pressing a need as any to have one’s love affirmed in a civil ceremony.

Ou Est Diversity?

Since the reformation of GLEN, there has been a disconcertingly sanitised public representation of lesbian and gay people. Increasingly, we are uniformly presented like the participants in the old OXO television ads- commercials peopled by clean, white, able-bodied, middle class, Joes and Joans. There has been little effort made to present the diversity within the LGB populace. The inevitable consequence of ‘normalising’ LGB people to make them more palatable to a heteronormative society is to invisibilise the ‘other’. In doing so, it colludes with society’s message that ‘otherness’ is deviant and lends itself to the view that those too butch or too camp, too disabled or too ‘ethnic’ are just too ‘other’ for public consumption. Marital equality with heterosexuals is being sought at the expense of the positivity of difference. The drive for ‘normality’ through marriage as currently promoted relies on politics of assimilation that will have long-lasting impacts for the struggle for respect for difference.

Is There A Game Plan And If There Is - Is It A Secret?

The recent leaking of the Heads of Civil Unions Bill, gave much food for thought for all activists and observers of the struggle for gay equality. Given how resistant were the signals coming from Fianna Fáil to anything but the most basic of recognitions, the content of the Heads of Bill and the extent of protections to be considered surprised many. Inevitably, campaigners for same sex marriage sounded like they had been caught off guard by the content. In responses to media questions and interviews there was a heavy reliance on the theme of love is love whether heterosexual or gay and substantive arguments were sadly lacking. In this respect, an important opportunity was lost in giving a reserved welcome to what was on offer and utilising the strength of what was included in the Heads of Bill to logically argue for what was absent, most notably the recognition of children within same sex families and the right to adoption.

However, the campaign’s strategic weakness of narrowly focusing on marriage as the alpha and omega leaves no room for trading up. It raises the question that if a fuller or even full raft of partnership rights were available under Civil Unions to allow the government some wriggle room with more conservative elements within its ranks, would MarriagEquality refuse such an offer? Is the call for marriage, a tactic, a means to an end or the only end that the campaign is prepared to consider? Is what something is called more important than the substance of what it provides? These are important questions that need to be addressed and engaged with publicly within the LGB community.

Parents and Progeny

At last the subject of children in lesbian and gay families has had consistent public airing in recent months. Although not the first initiative or organisation to do so, (eg: ICCL, Equality Authority, Sapphic Ireland’s submission to the All Party Oireachtas Committee on the Constitution) MarriagEquality is the first funded LGB entity to take this up as a central theme bringing much-needed further attention to a vital issue of equality. However, the issue is being argued almost exclusively from the position of ‘our’ rights as lesbians and gays to have children. In doing so, it is in danger of falling into the narrow parameters established by the Right who argue that children are best brought up by two opposite sex couples no matter what the calibre of that relationship.

The case for recognising the rights of lesbian and gay families needs to be fought in tandem with the position that children’s rights are supreme over all other competing rights. This is not just about us, it is about those with no independent voice. We do not make better parents than anyone else, as equally we certainly do not make worse simply because of our sexual orientation, but it’s not about us alone, its about children and their rights. Such a stance would not only be refreshing but heaven forbid radical in a State where the level of children’s vulnerability is frightening at the best of times.

Choice for All

Marriage is and should be an option for same sex couples and I and others have argued that publicly for quite a number of years now. However, if equality is to be truly championed then marriage must be promoted as one of a range of options and not as a three line whip. Whether consciously or not, the campaign has so far had an overwhelming air of exclusivity, a lack of public consultation with LGB people or discussion of other viable and equally legitimate options. The desire for marriage does not need to undermine the potential for other options nor should it be an obstacle to those options which would benefit and protect an entire range of other couples who require certain rights now in order to avert further inequalities and misery or those who do not and have never wanted marriage. The problem is, to date the campaign has been conducted with a worrying lack of respect for the importance of choice or the diversity of people’s lives and arrangements. In fact it states quite categorically that marriage is the sole option: “MarriageEquality believes that marriage is the only option for achieving equality for lesbians and gay men.”

In a recent correspondence with MarriagEquality, one of its co-chairs stated that they ‘are about the RIGHT TO CHOOSE’ ( sic), but Grainne Healy’s recent article in GCN states exactly and dogmatically the opposite. In it she argues that marriage is the only vehicle for equality and that other forms of civil partnerships for gay and straight couples will be easier to develop from that basis, but she does not say how or why she thinks that can happen, nor does she commit MarriagEquality to pursuing that end. Surely, if marriage is reinforced as the traditional institution by which all are expected to regularise their partnerships it will be even harder to unseat it as the only available form of regularisation. Healy uses the ‘back of the bus’ analogy for equality, rationalising that any other form of partnership recognition only moves us at best to the middle of the bus. The article pre-supposes that we all want to be on the same bus and that it is the only form of transportation to a state of fairness and equal treatment.

If we truly respect the right to choose then the challenge for progressive activists is to focus on winning the social and economic supports which reflect family and household diversity and the range of choices and arrangements that we enter into. To do that we need a broader vision of social justice, than the single-tracked confining of our lives into the narrow template of marriage.

The not so little town of Bethlehem

2006-12-27T11:26:00.000Z

Bbbbbrrrrrr, its cold in Ramallah, icey rain trying to turn to snow. I made an executive decision to work from home today because there is no heating in my workplace and hasn't been now for almost two weeks. Yet another consequence of the political situation. The office is in a building occupied by some government ministries, who because of the moratorium on financial aid are unable to work, hence they also have no money for fuel and as we are all on a shared, central heating system- those of us who continue to work are forced to endure Arctic conditions. C'est la vie on the West Bank.

Christmas was a mixture of memorable moments of hope, anger, uncertainty, generosity, beauty and of absences. Bethlehem was a revelation of pretty hilltop townships, Beit Sahour, accepted site of the angel's appearance to shepherds as they watched their flocks to inform them of the birth of the Jesus child. A kilometer futher up the hill, Bethlehem his birthplace, a town of 30, 000 people strung with lights and shining in its position nestled beneath Beit Jala perched atop it and all of this looking out on a landscape as old as time.

But something is dreadfully wrong in Bethlehem as with all of the West Bank but perhaps more acutely felt at this time of celebration and commemoration for many. The Wall, that indelible scar of unmitigated inhumanity and oppression snakes its painful way around Bethelehem overshadowing everything. The once thriving businesses, restaurants, small hotels and homes close to the site of the wall stand boarded up and abandoned and yet their location would once have been highly prised, providing views and an experience of the whole area.

Christmas lights, frosty nights and a sense of arrival notwithstanding, Bethlehem struggled under the weight of the burden of Israeli Ocupation this festive season. I watched the colourful, energetic parade of Palestine's youth scouts on Xmas eve as they displayed their musical and formation skills to the hundreds of onlookers in Manger Square in the build up to the arrival of the Patriarch in the mid afternoon. The Patriarch, better recognised outside Palestine as a catholic bishop was flanked by rows of altarboys, Franciscan brothers and priests- there's obviously no shortage of vocations in this part of the world. As we waited for his arrival outside the Church of the Nativity, three impressive figures dressed in ceremonial Ottoman costumes of brocade jackets and pantaloons, scimitars and fezs acted as his advance guard for the short walk to the Church portal. There was much stamping of feet amongst the long patient crowd to keep warm but then as the call to prayer came from the mosque opposite the church, I was informed that the ceremony would begin when the last cry had rung out. Pacing the rooftop of the Peace Centre that occupies almost one side of the square, heavily armed and flak jacketed sharpshooters kept their own watch. By the time the Patriarch drew parallel with the waiting crowd, he was all but drowned in a 3 deep ring of police locking arms around him in a security ring. I was struck by the fact that most of those who protected the leader of the Catholic Church in Palestine were Muslims.

I had woken on Xmas eve and gone outside in bright winter sunshine to listen to the sound of singing coming from the Greek Orthodox church in Beit Sahour and to enjoy the panorama afforded by my hillside location and my host's generous invitation to spend another night with her family. The landscape had an entirely different beauty in the morning light but I found myself lamenting the absence of greenery, I have been missing green. As the singing subsided, another refrain resonated across the hills of Bethlehem, the mosque call to prayer and I marvelled at the symmetry and co-ordination that accommodates these two evocations of different religious ritual and tradition.

Bethlehem works hard at respecting the religious and cultural traditions of its residents and is perhaps the most populated area by non- Muslims with up to 30% Christian. But the unity that so many invest in is threatened by the actions of some Christian churches who have sold of plots of land to the avaricious Israeli settlements that surround the area, facilitating the annexing of even more Palestinian territory to an Occupier who shows respect to no one.

I have just the thing sir!

2006-12-18T18:50:00.000Z

Does Tony Blair have a cosmetically disguised black eye? There was something distinctly asymmetrical about his right eye tonight during the live press conference with Olmert.

During which both men swapped platitudes when not being overtly evasive or as Blair twice admitted "elliptical". Elliptical?...mmm.. I'll stick with evasive. Daisy Mc Andrew of the BBC was having none of it:

"Mr. Blair the British Press has been dutifully following you on your whirlwind trip of the Middle East this last few days and its hard to see what, precisely if anything, has been acheived by this trip?"

" Mr. Olmert, you referred THREE times to new initiatives on the Palestinian situation which Mr Blair discussed with you today wouldn't it be helpful to tell us what EVEN ONE of those might be?"

Surgical Strike Daisy!

And all this activity and press hordes traipsing through an all ready overactive West Bank today to give public support and propping to Abbas' call for new elections. It would appear that Abbas is doing a Bertie.. when you dont get the result you like- call another election. Dontcha just love democracy? It comes in all sizes and shapes; "That one doesnt fit sir?, Here sir, let me get you this new style, faux-democracy, looks like the real thing, and with a few good spin cycles wears just like the real thing, but of course its totally synthetic."

Lethal year for Palestinian children

2006-12-14T20:49:00.000Z

123 Palestinian children have been killed in 2006, more than double the 2005 figure, while 340 children (under 18 years old) remain in detention facilities.

UNICEF said Wednesday in a report that 2006 has been one of the worst years for children. "Across the OPT, the conflict and closures, the withholding of resources and suspension in funding to the Palestinian Authority, as well as the strike by some public sector workers, have collectively blocked the fulfillment of children's rights."This year, says UNICEF, whether it is health care and education, protection from violence and abuse, or opportunities to play without fear - the rights of Palestinian children have been violated on an unprecedented scale.
The events of 2006 have impacted children in ways that will take years to unravel. Sonic booms, incursions and shelling created a context of extreme violence, stress and fear for children and their families, says the report."The summer, rather than being a time of recreation and play, turned out to be one without recreational opportunities as well as one with fear since it was among the most lethal summers ever, with 40 child deaths in July alone. "At this point in time, more than twice as many children died due to the conflict compared with 2005 - 70 per cent of these deaths were in Gaza."

Passing the time

2006-11-28T10:17:00.000Z

I have finally sucuumbed to the Ramallah ‘flu’. Its my third day of being housebound while the West Bank weather puts on a display of glorious early winter sunshine and pleasant temperatures. Luckily, I found a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle at the weekend which was not a nightscape of New York pre-2001 or a photocopy of a picture of a photocopy of a boy and his St Bernard circa 1970s . In fact it’s a rather challenging , colourful print of the circus with lots of action comprised of enticing, time-consuming individual scenarios within the Big Top. (My life may have gotten just too exciting!)

After weeks of evening time ennui and concerns about my rapidly disappearing ability to limit my television viewing to programmes with at least a teaspoon of acting and an outline plot, a veritable harvest of distractions have landed in my lap. First Al Jazeera went international- which means its inEnglish for mono-linguists like myself, then two great dvds arrived from a pal at home containing 4 hrs worth of the inimitable Helen Mirren in her final Prime Suspect, I got loaned a Raymond Chandler novel and then to top it all as from last night-Allah be praised- I’m now online at chez nous!

Perhaps, once the fog in my head has lifted and the capacity to breathe through my nose has been restored, I may even be able to make sense of what is happening between Olmert and the Palestinian negotiators. But that's just a maybe.. like a lot of other things around here.

The other war.. against women

2006-11-20T12:04:00.000Z

Human Rights Watch has just released its report : A Question of Security- Violence Against Palestinian Women and Girls.

It points out that despite the acknowledged and extremely repressive impact of the Israeli Occupation that there has been an inexcusable absence of protections for or response from the Palestinian Authority to gender-based violence in the Occupied Territories. The report unequivocally indicts previous and current administrations;

" the PA is failing to act diligently to prevent, investigate and punish violence against women, putting women's health and lives in jeopardy."

Discriminatory laws that condone and perpetuate violence against women and the virtual absence of institutionalized policies to prevent violence, assist victims and hold perpetrators accountable cant be dismissed as an Israeli plot- this is a home grown problem that needs a home grown solution- and it needs it now.

Just another week- like any other

2006-11-19T13:23:00.000Z

This week, the Israeli army invaded towns in the West Bank 30 times, killing two, injuring 13, and abducting 55, including six children and two women. Israeli troops invaded Al Ein Beit Al-Maa’ refugee camp near Nablus twice.

This is Independence?

2006-11-16T07:39:00.000Z

At first I thought it was firecrackers- it was Palestinian Independence Day after all, but it had been a quiet affair with just public buildings and schools on holiday. The main shopping street in Ramallah was its usual crowded bustling self. Lots of traffic, women food shopping, kids in tow, traders standing outside their shops ready to do business with anyone who cast more than a 2 second glance at their wares on display. Men in the coffee shops- doing whatever it is they do between drinking coffee and smoking. I was in the internet cafe on the corner, on the second floor. It was quiet there, but from the balcony windows overlooking the main street, I could hear the muted hubbub of Ramallah daily life below. So, at first I thought it was firecrackers, but it persisted. When the manageress of the internet cafe abruptly pushed back her chair and ran to the wall of windows opposite- I knew it wasn't firecrackers.

She opened the window and the distinct, unmistakeable sound of automatic gunfire pounded from around the street below, people were yelling, car brakes screeching. I joined her pressed against the wall between two large front windows. I managed with her direction to look down to my left where a large grey minivan had blocked off the street, its back doors lying open vomiting out Israelis soldiers in full fatigues, rifles firing. The street was in chaos. Women huddled in doorways, traders lying on their bellies outside their shops while a wave of young Palestinian men came surging up from the Menara ( the main square located at the opposite end of the street) straight towards the gunfire of the IDF, dodging and wending their way between the hastily abandoned cars whose drivers were crouched for cover behind their own vehicles.

The firing continued and as we peeked down I saw that scores of other witnesses in the first floor shops and cafes opposite were also looking down at the scene below- some eyewitnesses even calling out to the young men on the street to be careful. It was then I saw one Israeli trooper- stand right in the middle of the road with the kind of powerful, casual arrogance derived from being fully armed among unarmed people and point his rifle upwards and begin firing at the windows above street level. It did the trick, we all pulled back from our positions overlooking the street and hit the floor. The gunfire continued for at least 15 minutes but the noise of approaching Palestinian men and youth grew louder too as they ran down the middle of the road, determined to push out the Israeli troops by sheer force of numbers alone.

Just as suddenly as it jacknifed into the street, the grey minivan began to screech back into action, soldiers throwing themselves through its open doors, but they were not alone, we could hear the shouts and struggles of at least one , or it may have been two Palestinians whom they had dragged off the street. The ambulance sirens started to drown out everything else- but it also gave us a chance to raise our heads to the window again. Below, the street was packed tight with people, cars being pushed to the side to allow the ambulances through and on two of the street's corners, it was clear that casualties had occurred as people gathered round prone figures and attempted to give aid.

Twenty minutes of mayhem, determined shooting up of the most crowded street in the whole of the West Bank, terror instilled into its population, 2 or 3 people snatched from the street, others fallen bleeding and wounded, some unconfirmed reports say two dead, children left shivering in fear with nightmares to come. Palestinian Independence Day- some kind of Independence.

Aiding the Aid workers?

2006-11-13T11:25:00.000Z

Happy Birthday Mum! And belated birthday to my little sis yesterday- ah the delights of being raised with all those scorpios! Hope its been a good few days for you both.

The "strike" called by Hamas in mourning for the deaths in Gaza went off without too many incidents- well not much more than normal. Its scarey how the "acceptable levels of violence" mentality takes over in such situations and perhaps is a too handy and familiar response learned from the conflict in the North.

Spent sometime talking to some of the expat aid workers here over the last few days. Many of them seem to be in the 25-30 age range which gives me a good 15-20 years start on them. There is a discernable amount of burn-out among them. Indigestion and sleeping problems abound, heavy drinking on their free time, and conflicting emotions of frustration and guilt. Guilt because they feel headwrecked by the situation and yet have an *out * clause if they need one while Palestinians do not, frustration at the lack of political progress and a sense of futility in trying to accomplish anything substantial while wedged between a national political vaccum and international apathy.

I have been surprised at the lack of emotional support mechanisms for aid workers on long term placements here. They are, after all in a war zone where the threat is constant if not always imminent around them. I know of one aid worker whose job it is to document the killings and injuries of children and I thought often about her last week and the appalling vistas of photographs and videos from Gaza she would have been examining and analysing. All without any avenue in which to de-brief and unload her own inevitable and justifiable distress at what she was seeing.

Of course, the people who live here have the greatest amount of trauma- but they also have family and community networks, a sense of struggle and identity to help sustain them. That is not to diminish the very real impact- emotionally and psychologically which the brutality they are subjected to has upon them, but it hardly helps the locals if aid workers are burning out prematurely or unnecessarily.

I won't be walking this walk

2006-11-08T13:47:00.000Z

Just for the record, even if the Pride march goes ahead in Jerusalem tomorrow, I just cant find enough motivation to support it, the reaction of Orthodox Judaism notwithstanding. Jerusalem is the most contested city in the world. Its Palestinian residents are subjected to numerous pressures to squeeze them out, walled in, permits required to move beyond the wall, their portion of the city continually annexed by Israeli developments and for those Palestinians who live outside of Jerusalem who want to worship at their faith's most sacred site, the mosque at Al Quds, the way is barred.

There is something very wrong with the priorities of this proposed Pride march, in asserting the rights of lesbians and gays to walk through a city while others who were born and live there have no rights at all.

A Deadly Recipe

2006-11-08T13:31:00.000Z

Take an entire community, fence them in with an apartheid wall, prevent them from having freedom of movement, separate them from their families, crops, schools and places of worship, raid their towns on a regular weekly if not daily basis, abduct large numbers of residents, demand that all males between 15- 45 years old leave their homes and present themselves for interrogation, knock them about a bit for good measure, demolish their homes, shell them with some of the most powerful weaponry available and to be on the safe side use some of that stuff that's banned and burns its human targets from the inside out, shoot the women who protest, kill their children too, keep increasing the number of checkpoints, ignore all international standards and protections, and stir every chance you get.. within a few weeks you will have produced a whole army of suicide bombers focussed on nothing but Holy Jihad.

Oh and then when it happens- dont forget to perfect your look of shock and outrage!

Just another mother murdered.

2006-10-30T12:34:00.000Z

Daily deaths in Gaza caused by Israeli forces are obviously no longer of much interest to many US media- but the negligence and dismissiveness with which this story was treated by the Washington Post is an indication of how little interest there is in covering the scale of Israeli oppression let alone critiquing it:http://www.imemc.org/content/view/21947/1/

Taxi Madam?

2006-10-25T16:52:00.000+01:00

“ Just go to the line of big yellow Mercs, ask for Al Khaleel, Arabs don’t call it Hebron. Once you get through the checkpoint outside Hebron, call me on your mobile and I’ll talk to the driver and give him instructions on where to drop you.”

Oooo..Kay! I can do this. Plot and execute my journey from Ramallah to Hebron/ Al Khaleel via the West Bank transport system without a word of Arabic. I can do this. The words of encouragement and direction were from my colleague, Sahira who had invited me to spend Eid with her inexhaustibly extended family in the Hebron area. Goddamn it I intended to get there and experience the whole nine yards of Islam’s biggest festival within the bosom of a Palestinian family.

I was the first passenger for my driver, having left my digs early to find the Merc rank and give myself plenty of time to get acquainted with the vagaries of the Palestinian equivalent of a Falls Road Black Hack service. But these lads on the West Bank win hands down, no contest. I had surrendered myself to a transport system sans speed restrictions, sans any rules of the road, few road markings and as for indicating- well that’s for wimps!

While sitting in my car, (I was beginning to think of it in the possessive, having spent the best part of an hour waiting for it to fill) I took some time to take in its fallen- on- hard- times interior. An iron bar separated the driver and front seat passenger, (me) from the six others on the two back seats. My seat kept sliding every time I moved my ass, so I settled for a yogic position of stillness out of necessity rather than familiarity. In fact the whole trip was a lesson in reaching and grasping for dear life to my core tranquillity- who knew I had one?

Then we were off, well nearly, the pre- Eid traffic was gridlocked around central Ramallah. Regular, prolonged use of car horns have neatly substituted for the absence of any traffic flow system. Not that anyone pays any attention to the car- horns but it produces an endearing caucophony to accompany the chaos. The main road out of Ramallah is a rally-driver’s tetesterone-fuelled dream, diving and pitching with abandon past run down businesses and rubble strewn, rubbish-laden streets.

The drive to Al Khaleel should take 45 minutes- but that was in the good old days when the logical route was through Jerusalem but now Jerusalem must be circumvented and the checkpoints accommodated, all of which takes at least 2 hours, 3 hours when the Israelis are having a bad hair day.

Once past the first checkpoint, the driver put his foot down and the landscape outside began to blur, I reached in and tugged hard at my inner tranquillity willing it to last the course. Just as I thought I had lost the battle, I noticed the Merc’s speedometer stayed static at 20km, even though the speed of sound was about to be broken. By the time halfway into the journey, that the car climbed the 80 degree hill out of the Valley of Fire and began to nonchalantly overtake a 16 wheeled HGV on a hairpin bend I had transcended into some kind of outer body experience and was at one with the universe. Although it may have been the next universe as I seemed particularly close to entering it.

But I not only got there, I also got back and the post traumatic stress has been well and truly ameliorated by the most wonderful 4 days in between where; I got adopted- twice, gave stunted English lessons in return for bad Arabic ones, drank what seemed like sixteen types of tea, partook of my first (and hopefully not my last ) hubbly-bubbly, laughed until I almost peed myself, went cucumber –picking, ate Middle-Eastern, home-cooked food fit for the Queen of Sheba, nervously mangled the traditional greeting for Eid in front of 10 local elders, got kissed so often I was walking around on a permanent high and found a whole community of friendship and welcome that has made me feel very, very privileged. But that’s a whole other story.

Altogether Now: Do the Restrictions Shuffle

2006-10-20T10:44:00.000+01:00

Altogether Now- Do the Restrictions Shuffle.

The bureaucratic St. Vitus’ Dance more commonly known as negotiating the nightmare that has replaced freedom of movement for Palestinians goes a little like this: Listen up class, I will be testing you all on it later.. but not as ruthlessly as the Israelis daily test Palestinians on it.

A PALESTINIAN from JERUSALEM who has a Jerusalem residence card issued by the Israelis may travel to the West Bank or 1948 territories (inside Israel). But an East Jerusalem Palestinian wanting to enter Gaza must give an acceptable reason to receive a permit usually limited to one day.

A PALESTINIAN from the WEST BANK with a West Bank residence card must apply for special authorisation in advance to go to Jerusalem or the 1948 territories. This is only given on production of a work contract or hospital certificate. The patient must travel alone to hospital unless a family member has also applied for and received a permit. It is not generally possible to visit the Muslim or Christian centres of worship in Jerusalem even on religious feasts. It is out of the question to go to Jerusalem for family visits or religious reasons without a permit.

A PALESTINIAN from GAZA must obtain special permission in advance to go to Jerusalem or anywhere in the State of Israel. If so s/he must go by way of Egypt and then Jordan to enter the West Bank. ( Think- travelling from Belfast to Dublin via Scotland and Liverpool)

A PALESTINIAN of 1948 Territories (in Israel) can theoretically go anywhere under Israeli jurisdiction except Gaza. There are also many restrictions for anyone originally from Gaza married to a Palestinian Israeli. The Gaza spouse may obtain an Israeli residence card but remains without a nationality, making foreign travel extremely complicated, if not impossible.

You still with me at the back of the class then? Do try to keep up.

Okay now for the advanced class in Repression, once you have secured your particular pass card this does no necessarily mean that you get to pass Go automatically. Here are the definitions of the various points of access and egress through the WALL also known as the Barrier at which you will be required to present your permit:

(Please note the term Gate is used loosely, imagine if you will queues of Palestinians on foot or in vehicles, facing soldiers of the Israeli army or State Police with carte blanche to behave as they like no matter how valid the paperwork).

Agricultural Gate- allows access to agricultural fields, green houses and orchards located on opposite side of the Wall. Farmers must obtain a green permit to get to those fields.

Checkpoint Gate- is a crossing point from the West Bank into other West Bank areas under de facto Israeli jurisdiction (like East Jerusalem). These are manned by Israeli Border Police or members of the Israeli Defence Forces (IDF) and are also used by Israeli settlers. However, Palestinians of the West Bank must have a permit to enter Israel. The Wall lies inside many WB areas so many of the gates are not located on the Green Line.

Military Gate- not permitted for Palestinian civilian use.

Road Gate- installed at the junction where the Wall blocks a road. Permits are required to cross the road gates and continue on the road.

School Gate- where Wall blocks a school route. The gate is opened during school hours to allow Palestinian schoolchildren and teachers across.

Seasonal Gate- closed to Palestinians except at harvest time. No official dates or times are posted for these gates. Otherwise they are used for military access.

Settlement Gate- Primarily used by settlers. They are officially opened to green permit holders but Palestinian farmers tend to avoid using them because of hostility from Israeli settlers.

With thanks to the Alternative Tourism Group:

Alternative Tourism Group

Walled In

2006-10-19T18:01:00.000+01:00

Walled In

“Something there is that doesn’t love a wall” wrote Robert Frost about neighbouring New England farmers who go out to mend the wall that separates their two fields. Frost’s wall is built by hand of natural stones, yet the poem reflects on the unnaturalness of such a barrier, nature’s disdain for the structure and questions the necessity of the divide at all.  One farmer believes in the wall and mantra-like repeats, “ Good fences make good neighbours”.

But the concrete abomination that runs across the landscape of the Palestinian Territories bears no resemblance to the stone dykes of farmland and even less to do with good neighbourly relations. It looms malevolently over the lives, land and future of the people of the West Bank with undisguised hostility. It corrals an entire people into such narrow confines that they must surely begin to feel a collective claustrophobia. Move a few hundred metres north, south or east and they collide with its impenetrability, even with their backs to the Jordan River, there is no safe, open space behind, but innumerable Israeli settlements poised to encroach.

A nine metre high wall, over 200 km long, on completion running to almost 700km requires reinforcement, watching and maintaining. The array of military support is staggering: watchtowers, checkpoints, roadblocks, a buffer zone of 30-100 metres, razor wire, surveillance cameras, ditches, and electronic fences. Overkill. Disproportionate.

However, it is an historical analogy that is most conjured by this penning in of human beings. To another time and place where, herded into one small area, a people were confined, forced to endure, deprived of all but the most basic of amenities, left to rot in the Warsaw Ghetto.  The profound irony of that particular parallel is not lost nor does it rest comfortably, but it is unavoidable. Layer by layer, day by day freedoms, dignity and the means of survival are being stripped from the people of the Palestinian Occupied Territories. The Wall separates and consumes. Separates them from their fields and consumes their land, separates them from their livelihoods and consumes their freedoms, separates them from their neighbours and families and consumes the place they call homeland.

The daily crossings require permits, visas, a lowered gaze, a passive countenance and even then there is no guarantee of traversing to the other side.  Agricultural gates providing access to fields and groves open and close at the whim of the military, stretching the endurance of farmers and jeopardising crops. Checkpoints manned by 18 year old Israeli conscripts already inured to the humanity of those wishing to pass, test the patience of queues of expectant, anxious people  needing to get to prayer, to work, to school, to family. Regularly the conditions for crossing change, one day a permit which granted egress is the passport to movement, the next day the same permit is viciously flung back in the face of its holder and the way barred. And this on their own land.

Nothing is certain except that nothing is certain.

Perimenopausal in the Middle East

2006-10-10T16:16:00.000+01:00

Well, thats how my little sis would describe my decision to take off for 3months to Palestine. My impending departure has been met with uncharacteristic nonchalance by mother- interpreted by middle sis as mother's failing to know where Palestine is, just that its hot there, ( If she only knew) and middle sis' faith that I will be perfectly at home there ( best not to analyse that one too much) and youngest sis who thinks I'm mad and perimenopausal and has pleaded with me not to do it.

Nevertheless, from this weekend, I will be in the West Bank, hoping to contribute something to ameliorating the struggle of women in the conflict thereand to support their efforts at developing their social and political status generally. With the help of my good friend Maman Poulet, I will also be attempting to blog throughout my stay when both external and personal conditions allow.

As we speak, Maman is trying to sort me out on skype and trying to figure out how to unlock my new, do- everything- but- make- the- dinner- mobile phone. I may even learn how to download pics by the end of this afternoon. And then all I have to do after that is not make a tit of myself in Palestine!

Buffed and Butch on the Beara

2006-01-18T19:05:00.000Z

Buffed and Butch on the Beara

Last summer’s  ramblings of a new rural romantic.

What you have to understand is that I am a city kid. I have never lived anywhere without a corner shop- literally on my street corner. As a non-driver, I have always lived where there are at least two bus routes serving my area. When I lived in Belfast there were six bus routes to my home, but public transport is a commitment up North, not a miracle. I’m an urban girl. I like to have a pub within staggering distance and a few neighbours, who are amiably disposed towards a gossip. I even get withdrawal symptoms if there are no kids kicking a football outside the door who I can give an ear-bollocking to- its so good for venting one’s frustrations- consequently I have never felt the need to see a therapist and it has saved me a lot of money.

So, it has all come as a bit of a shock to discover that I am in love with the vast, sparsely populated landscape of the Beara Peninsuala. I can sit for hours on end watching the sky- and doesn’t it go on forever? I stand outside at night in gobsmacked awe at the number of stars in the firmament. I  voluntarily, nay, even with a spring in my step, walk two miles to the nearest shop. I practically skip along the hedgerows oohing and aahing at the wildflowers that spring up every visit to greet me. The dominant colour this month is the blood- red of the fuschia, last month it was the lavender of battalions of foxgloves, the month before it was the brilliant sun yellow of gorse and next month it will be my favourite hot orange as thousands of clumps of  monbretia burst upon the scene. Listen to me- I’m an eejit for this stuff.

The last two visits have seen particularly extreme manifestations of my new, tree- hugging- smell- the- good- wet –earth- and –bless-the day-that’s-in-it self. It started when we bought a bow saw. Herself is a keen and extremely talented gardener, whereas I shuffle two paces behind as she attempts to explain to me for the one hundred and third time what the difference is between a weed and a plant that she has nourished and nurtured for months. (Did you know that a weed is just a plant that nobody wants? A bit like Michael Mc Dowell really.) Basically, she is able, knowledgeable and efficient in all matters horticultural and loves nothing more than to sink her hands into earth and tend to growing things. I usually admire all this from a safe distance- things crawl in the soil.

But then the bow saw came into my life. And I have been transformed- praise Jesus!
An ecologically –aware friend, (I’ve know her for 25 years and only now am I paying any heed to the wisdom she has tried to impart to me over the last quarter of a century), suggested we cut down some of the young sycamores on the land around the cottage because they seed quickly and choke the other trees. Hence, the bow saw. This sounded like a job even I could do- unskilled labour. Truth be told, ever since I was a kid I’ve wanted to shout “TIMBER!” and mean it.

I have felled six of the buggers so far AND turned them into firewood. I am a  Tasmanian devil with purloined, serrated teeth. There is a ritual to my toils. Up early, coffee cup in hand, sizing up the job to be tackled each morning, then I put on the kit. Men’s construction shorts with lots of pockets for ‘things’ and even a wee loop to hold your pencil, in good weather a sleeveless tee-shirt or vest, a pair of thick socks and walking boots and a baseball hat.  Like those Japanese soldiers who were found in South East Asian jungles 30 years after the war ended, I look like the Greenham Commoner that time forgot. All I lack is my bender (a tent made from branches and a dog blanket- I think), a campfire and rolling tobacco. I have muscles on top of muscles but they are all on my right arm and the incongruity of my upper limbs is beginning to show. But who gives a damn- in my tree-felling rig-out I am the butchest looking thing around for a half a mile, until you get to John Joe’s farm and his prize ram. I am getting more ambitious as the weeks roll on, I now have a pair of giant, telescopic secateurs and those suckers can lop off a branch as thick as my arm- well, my less developed left arm. Lately, I have been pondering the technicalities of making my own wooden bench from the supply of logs I have amassed. I fancy something rustic, bound together by sheer grit and a bit of old rope-sort of Ikea without the straight lines.

I have amazed myself. All this from the woman who went to Greenham Common and  lasted less than 48 hours there. They had no corner shop.

Family Fortunes

2006-01-18T00:53:00.000Z

My store of optimism had been fast depleting with the increase in stories and incidents illustrating the continued hypocritical stance in this country about children, families and which ones are “worthy” of care and state protection.

  The continued state neglect of unaccompanied, refugee and asylum seeking minors, the state sanctioned ruthlessness of forcibly removing other such families from the homes, communities and lives they have made for themselves in this country to return them to situations of brutality and fear surely demands that our Constitution give supremacy to the rights of children instead of the paltry lip service that currently exists towards children’s rights.

I know too, that I am not alone at feeling disgust at the predicament of young Tristan Dowse, returned to an Indonesian orphanage because it no longer suited his married, adoptive parents to keep him, while Irish right- wing fanatics presented the Oireachtas Committee on the Family with a highly questionable petition against same sex couples having a right to family life.  A few days ago, a friend told me about a Christian fundamentalist website where members of its particular misanthropic sect had posted posed photos of their own small children wearing “ God hates Fags” t-shirts and it was then I truly felt the despair creep up around my shoulders.

But just when I felt like putting the duvet back over my head for the rest of the week, I found this little gem of a story.  It is no panacea for all of the disgusting behaviours I have just outlined, but it brought a grin to my face and a whole new meaning to the  “Mother and Child Campaign”.

It seems that the Cincinnati Reds, a major league US baseball team have got themselves a highly-talented, young pitcher by the name of Joe Valentine. Joe was first professionally signed on discovery by a talent scout to the White Sox in 1999. Last year, during Spring training with his new team Joe was interviewed by Newsday. The lad paid homage to his parents for all their support and encouragement throughout his life and their particular nurturing of his sporting abilities. Nothing unusual about that, just a well brought up young man who wanted to give due recognition to the parents he loved. Except Joe has two moms and always has. Deb Valentine, his biological mother and Doreen Price who raised him from birth have been together for 30 years. It was his mom, Doreen who was involved in competitive softball who nurtured Joe’s love of baseball.

Joe Valentine told the Newsday reporter about his upbringing with his moms because “ I just wanted to give them some sort of recognition for this. I feel in my heart they did a great job with me and I thought it would be nice to just have them see that I appreciated it.” Valentine’s nonchalant statements about his parents and family life have been received with a similar kind of “cool shrug” by his teammates in a sport previously renowned for the kind of anti-gay sentiment that bordered on paranoid.

Joe is married and trying to start a family of his own, his moms moved from their old family home in Las Vegas to be close to Joe’s new team home.

“ I don’t see myself as an activist although I will speak up if I need to. I think people need to judge others for who they are, not by any prejudiced ideas or thoughts. I’m a baseball player who was raised by two wonderful, loving mothers. How can anyone criticize that?” Indeed Joe, how could anyone criticize that?

Supernanny to the Rescue

2006-01-17T23:28:00.000Z

The bunch of tantrum-throwing, ill-behaved, incorrigible, squabbling, bad-mouthed, dysfunctional brats we elected to government are an international embarrassment and a national disgrace. It is obvious that our ability to call them to account is wholly inadequate.  The behaviour we have witnessed for several years now from the overgrown kids in Leinster House is spiralling out of control. It is only a matter of time before Michael Mc Dowell throws himself face down on the Dail floor kicking and spitting in uncontrollable rage if any grown-up dares to suggest that he is wrong.

It is obvious that lads like Jim, Conor, Michael, Micheal, Seamus, Martin, Mary and ringleader, Bertie are desperately seeking our attention- hence the fits of pique, the challenging behaviour, the bad language, the deliberate playing out, the offensive insults, mugging of the elderly and the interminable lying. This is a job for….. SUPERNANNY.

As fans of Nanny Jo Frost, aka Supernanny (of the Channel 4 programme of the same name) will tell you, brats who behave this badly are in need of a firm hand, consistent discipline and constant reminding that if they do not do what they are told there will be consequences-for them. Adults must hold the line on these principles. There must be no rewards for brattish, lazy, dishonest acts. They must learn that their behaviour will not be tolerated and that we, the grown-up electorate are the final authority.

If we apply Supernanny’s methodology to our own mob of malfeasants we will be on our way to creating a more harmonious and effective government. First we must establish a “cool down area”. This is to be used immediately the bad behaviour kicks off and the wilfulness takes over. Instead of bemoaning the situation and pleading for them to behave themselves or entering into arguments which they will always reroute, we must act decisively by removing them to the “cool down area” until they have learnt their lesson and are ready to apologise for the outrage they have perpetrated. Mountjoy prison is ideally placed to serve this function.

Once we have clearly established that there will be immediate consequences for criminal acts perpetrated under the influence, wilful obstruction and embezzlement of old people’s pensions as well as a few ASBOs served on the boorish element in the Office of Overseas Development, we can move to the next phase of treatment. This involves giving each brat something to aim for, a tangible means of measuring good behaviour that leads to a deserved reward. The system is already in place- it is called the General Election. But we must stick rigidly to the contract. No giving in and voting for them if they have failed to live up to their side of the deal.

Each upstart must be assigned a specific set of tasks to undertake and promises to keep.  It must be made extremely clear in language that these outsized tikes understand that failure to comply will result in the forfeiture of all privileges and pocket money.  We, the grown-ups, will in turn guarantee to provide proportional affirmation and encouragement when genuine efforts are made to; clean up their mess, abide by the rules of civilised society, treat the populace with respect and refrain from using inflammatory, abusive and racist language.

However, Nanny Jo would also point out that the disgraceful antics of the Leinster House louts continues because of our laissez faire attitude as an electorate. It is not that we are inadequate or unable to cope. We too, are exhibiting learned behaviour gleaned from decades of neglect, betrayal, making do and putting up with.  Consequently, we have allowed the brats to get out of control and to believe that they are in charge. By allowing self-seeking, unprincipled, double-standards to go unchecked amongst our government ministers we have helped preserve a culture of  democratic unaccountability and contempt for the basic rules of good governance.

Supernanny might find that given our predicament and the entrenched nature of our problem that specifically tailored measures are needed to copper-fasten good behaviour amongst our government delinquents. Five yearly check-ups by way of general elections alone only serve too give a long leash to these particular pups.  Additional checks and balances are required: Dail Committees established to regularly monitor the performance of individual Departments, effective, independent procedures to investigate abuses of power by politicians and a grievance procedure operated by a Standards in Government body, identifying the types of misconduct expressly prohibited by any member of the government and empowered to enact consequences when misconduct occurs.

Supernanny does warn of having unreasonable expectations of undeveloped minds. The effects of this can be seen in those Departments headed up by Ministers who are quite obviously not up to the job.  Nanny Jo says this is setting ‘kids’ up for a fall before they have even begun. Leaving us to consider that Bertie’s ministerial choices are the work of a much darker force.

Powerful Positions- No Women Need Apply

2006-01-17T23:17:00.000Z

First published 4th April 2005 in Village magazine.
This was the week that the new Pontiff, Benedict XVI was elected and senior members of the DUP were invited to meet over dinner with Dublin’s Chamber of Commerce and other key business figures.

       POWERFUL POSITION- NO WOMEN NEED APPLY

Have you ever noticed how, if you raise the issue of gender representation in decision-making within organisations, the first reply you get is- “ but we have a woman on the committee/board/management etc.”  I force myself to think of that response as recognition that one, solitary, lone, token woman is the equivalent of the dozen men who have permanent residence on the committee/board/management. In allowing myself that little fantasy, I am working to suppress the overwhelming desire to deck the eejit who just said something that dumb.

My powers of self-restraint are really put to the test when the response goes along the lines of, “ but our meetings are open to women and they are just not interested.” Oh boy! That would be the meetings that are held just when children are being fed their main meal of the day, read to and put to bed, or the ones held in the morning when kids have to be got washed, dressed, fed and deposited at school.  Or, maybe that would be the meetings that no one knows about especially not women because no one bothered to tell any women. Perhaps it’s the meetings where the ‘resident men’ enter into rhetorical pissing competitions with one another to see who is the dominant male, smartest lad in the class, or mummy’s clever little boy. These kind of meetings are lots of fun for men but as interesting as watching cheese mould for women (and not much better for those men who have more sense than the majority of their peers.).

Then there is the position much beloved of quite a few NGOs and semi-state bodies,  “But- we- are- an- inclusive –organisation.” This is a revolutionary new approach to inclusion.  It involves chanting  “ we are an inclusive organisation” mantra-like over and over, until eventually the chant transcends reality. I am particularly intrigued by that response because it demonstrates the intense level of self-delusion that can be attained without the use of psychotropic drugs. The levels of self-delusion will be roughly proportionate to the gaps in representation of women, people with disabilities and ethnic minorities in the organisation. It is also important to note that a token disabled person working the phones or doing the photo-copying, several women in the typing pool and a Ukrainian cleaner does nothing to diminish my point.

But I bring you glad tidings on the gender balance front or rather, Minister Frank Fahey with responsibility for Equality does. He announced recently that he had requested, “ all Ministers put in place the necessary procedures to implement the Government decision on equal representation on State Boards.” According to the Minister, all nominating bodies must put forward both male and female options for appointments to State Boards.  Fahey’s instructions are an attempt to finally get somewhere close to the 40% female representation which he identifies as having been promised in both the Programme for Government and Sustaining Progress 2003-2006.  Minister Fahey’s actions are most definitely welcome.

However, women have been waiting just a little longer for government to take that kind of action than the Minister’s statement suggests. The 40% gender representation target has been around since 1991. The National Women’s Council of Ireland first proposed it as a target in their submission to the 2nd Commission on the Status of Women in 1990 who successfully recommended it be adopted as a policy guideline by government. So, it has only taken fourteen years to produce a specific action to bring about its implementation. And of course Minister Fahey’s timing has not been influenced by Ireland’s imminent attendance in July at the UN, Charter for the Elimination of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW) Committee where, our government will have to show what progress, if any, has been made on addressing women’s inequality in Ireland on a number of fronts.

Nevertheless, in a week that saw a global leader appointed in a ritual by 144 patriarchs invoking the elitism and sexism of a darker age, and a business dinner for unionist brethren hosted by the fathers of Irish finance and industry in a gentlemen’s Dublin club, then Frank Fahey’s small and tardy gesture is all the more essential.

Remembering the Holocaust in Ireland

2006-01-17T19:42:00.000Z

First published in Village magazine January 2005

It begins with the belief that those who are different are in some way lesser beings. It continues with the infringement of their liberties, restrictions on their freedom of movement, the denial or removal of their rights, forcibly removing them from their homes, their campsites, confining them to camps and ghettoes and increased efforts to erode their human-ness by inflicting any number of small indignities leading to ever greater indignities. Until finally one day, unfettered and unchallenged bigotry and hatred proceed to the next level- extermination.

In answer to an interviewer’s question on whether he believed the Holocaust could happen again, Primo Levi, perhaps its most eloquent survivor replied; “ The idea is not dead. Nothing ever dies. Everything rises renewed.”

Mass graves, concentration camps, the destruction of places of worship, the bombing of schools and residential areas, starvation, forced migration, mass rape these are the ultimate expressions of tyranny and bigotry, from Cambodia, Indonesia, Rwanda and Bosnia to Darfur- and yet after Auschwitz the world said, “Never Again.”

In 2000 the Irish government signed the Stockholm Statement of Commitment pledging amongst other things, “ to strengthen our efforts to promote education and research about the Holocaust and other genocides” and, “ to encourage Holocaust remembrance by holding an annual Holocaust Memorial Day.” The Statement also recognises that “humanity is still scarred by the belief that race, religion, disability or sexuality make some people’s lives worth less than others’. Genocide, anti-semitism, racism, xenophobia and discrimination still continue.” It pledges signatories to, “ a shared responsibility to fight these evils.”

Three years after they had signed up to these pledges the Irish government had done nothing to meet their commitment in recognising the Holocaust. It was not until an ad hoc voluntary committee comprised of members of Ireland’s Jewish community and those who shared an interest in remembering the Holocaust organised a memorial event that leading members of the Irish cabinet sat up and took notice.

The first Holocaust memorial event in Dublin City Hall in 2003 was without question one of the most potent commemoration ceremonies to ever take place there. It did not focus on praising dead heroes or patriotic blood sacrifice. With the first Holocaust Commemoration a new tradition of remembrance was established wherein the common humanity of all is re-emphasised and the simple message conveyed that prejudice unchecked poses the greatest threat to that humanity.

All of the victims of the Third Reich are remembered during the event now in its third year.  The centrepiece of the commemoration is the lighting of candles in memory of the minorities that Nazism attempted to eradicate forever, the Roma community, people with physical and learning disabilities, people of African descent, lesbians and gays and Europe’s Jews. Candles are also lit for those who were murdered because of their political and religious beliefs, trade unionists, communists, Quakers, Jehovah’s Witnesses and others.

Each candle is lit by an Irish representative of those minorities. On behalf of the six million  Jewish victims, candles are lit by six of the tiny number of remaining survivors of the Holocaust living in Ireland. Several came as refugees via Britain on the kindertransport, the groups of children who were lucky enough to be evacuated from Europe by their families before the full terror was unleashed.  Two of the Irish survivors, Suzi Diamond and Zoltan Zinn- Collis met as small children in the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp were they were rescued after the liberation and brought to Ireland by an Irish Red Cross doctor, Robert Collis and his Dutch wife, Han who was a nurse. Ireland has very few Holocaust survivors because so few, so very, very few Jewish refugees were allowed to enter the country during the war or in the post-war period. Katrina Goldstone an Irish anti-racist activist who has documented Irish anti-semitism estimates that only 65-100 refugees were ever admitted.

At the 2004 Commemoration the Minister for Justice, Michael Mc Dowell publicly apologised for government predecessors of the 30s and 40s who denied refuge to those in such desperate need. This year, An Taoiseach, Bertie Aherne will also attend. An apology for the callousness of a previous government and official attendance at an annual remembrance event notwithstanding, there is little evidence to show that Irish officialdom has reflected on the lessons of the Holocaust in their current policies towards certain minorities, refugees and those vulnerable to bigotry.

Acts of omission in addressing racism comprehensively, indifference to the absymal provision of Traveller halting sites, the official feeding of public prejudice and paranoia in relation to immigrants and refugees as witnessed in the recent citizenship referendum, the scapegoating of those same immigrants for the absence of a coherent, transparent immigration policy, the refusal to allow asylum seekers the dignity of work, these are the responses of a government for whom the Holocaust is little more than an historical footnote.

Lynn Jackson of the Holocaust Commemoration Committee (Holocaust Educational Trust) is dedicated to ensuring that commemoration of the Holocaust is linked to the fight against racism,

“ The Nazi Holocaust is the extreme example of racism. It highlights where unchecked bigotry, prejudice and hatred can lead. It teaches us that we must all be mindful of the dangers of racism and protest in the strongest terms when we witness anti-semitism, xenophobia or any form of intolerance expressed in any of its manifestations.”

At the conclusion of the commemoration each year, Dublin City Hall resonates to the  Kaddish, the Jewish prayers for the dead. For those who died in the Holocaust rest and peace are implored for; “ the souls of all our brothers and sisters… who were butchered, murdered, slaughtered, incinerated, drowned, shot and strangled…at the hands of the Nazi oppressors.” The cantor’s voice rises and falls in a cadence of heart-aching clarity as he asks that, “ the master of mercy shelter them in the shadow of his wings for eternity and may he bind their souls in the soul of life.”   Amen.

National Sorry Day for Politicians

2006-01-17T17:57:00.000Z

Originally published in Village Magazine 4th December 2004

I was tickled to read that in response to the withdrawal of their funding by Belfast City Council that “The Vacuum” a free monthly paper is organising a “Sorry Day” on December 15th. Admittedly, it’s a tongue in cheek retaliation to the Christian fundamentalists of the Council who withheld the paper’s funding and demanded an apology from the editors because they had the audacity to publish an article on Satanism.

The possibilities of a “Sorry Day” are endless but I think it would be particularly effective if it were aimed at politicians who are especially deficient in the apology department. On Sorry Day, career politicians would have to cease their other activities for the day and enrol in a training workshop entitled, “Mea Culpa- the Beginners Guide to Begging for Forgiveness.” The Elton John track, “Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word” would be played on a continous loop throughout the day’s training-there has to be some opportunity for gratuitous revenge after all.

Mea Culpa would be an action- oriented workshop. At the end of the eight hour session each participant would appear on an extended RTE News to demonstrate their newly acquired skills by performing one wholehearted, unequivocal apology for something they should have apologised for much sooner. The National Grid would go into meltdown as the entire nation tuned in to watch a marathon broadcast of contrition.

Liam Lawlor ex-con, dirty politician, inveterate liar and greedy, self-seeking excuse for a public representative steps in front of the cameras outside the Dail. Chastened by his day of self flagellation and looking into the special Mea Culpa Mirror which shows him as others see him, Liam falls on his knees , tears open his shirt to show his exposed left breast and implores the country from the bottom of his heart to forgive him for betraying their trust, abusing his position and bringing a whole new level of debasement to Irish politics.

The Taoiseach shuffles coyly into view. He has spent a lot of his workshop time exploring with the help of an army of facilitators which specific sin/offence/ act he should choose to apologise for. Eventually it was decided it should be the most recent as that would hopefully act as a deterrent from committing further insults to the electorate. Once that was agreed the facilitators spent the rest of the day scripting a statement of apology for him to learn by heart so that at least his public apology would not be marred by any unnecessary verbal mangling. Bertie, directs his most doleful gaze into the camera and recites as he has been taught that he will never again exploit the plight of the poorest, most deprived people in the world to make himself look good in front of his international pals. He apologies profusely for his schoolboy boasting about increasing overseas aid and begs our forgiveness for his lack of sincerity and humanity.

Perhaps about now there would be a commercial break to allow viewers to partake of a stiff drink and pinch each other to ensure that they are not dreaming. Right after the advertisement for the newest line in sackcloth, ashes and hairshirts available now at all good stockists, we return to Kildare Street for my particular highlight of Sorry Day.

Standing very much alone but with a familiar defiance in his eye, is the Minister for Justice. For some minutes he continues to stand without saying a word, until a large, muscular facilitator sidles up to him and whispers in his ear. The facilitator remains at his side, as it is clear that the Minister is in need of extra coaching and persuasion. The facilitator attempts to push the proceedings along by telling us that the Minister has something he would like to say. It happens too quickly to be sure but eagle-eyed viewers are certain that the facilitator gives the Minister a hefty dig in the back which sends him falling to his knees. The camera pans down to the Minister’s now penitent face to hear him utter sotto voce that he wishes to apologise for being Michael Mc Dowell.

I am only sorry it will never happen.

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