Liam Adams is innocent

Liam Adams is innocent. He is, you know.  The same as you’re innocent and I’m innocent and Uncle Tom Cobley and all are innocent, until proven guilty.  But given the amount of coverage his case has been given, if someone today said  to you “Liam Adams”, somewhere in the back of your mind the thought might very well tumble around “Oh yeah, he sexually abused his daughter, didn’t he?” That’s what highly-publicised charges of misconduct or crime do: the charge becomes the verdict even before the case has been heard.  And don’t tell me people suspend judgment until the decision is made in court regarding guilt or innocence. Supposing it was you who were charged with the crime Liam Adams has been charged with. Do you really believe there wouldn’t be a shift in the way your friends and acquaintances and work-colleagues regarded you? It can’t be said often enough: Liam Adams and every single person charged with a crime is innocent,  and stays innocent, until found guilty in a court of law. And sometimes not even then.

Behind the injustice of assumed-guilt lies another injustice: the injustice of guilt by association. I’ve heard and read media reports on  Liam Adams’s extradition to the north several times in the course of the past few days, and in every case – in print and on air – the fact that he’s Gerry Adams’s brother is included.  What effect does that have? It sets up in the public mind a poisonous equations: child abuse – Liam Adams – Gerry Adams. Somehow the charge against Liam Adams becomes a charge against Gerry Adams. 

You think this guilt-by-association idea – or in this case blood-relationship –  is a fantasy? In that case, why, when you apply for the role of, say, Prison Visitor, or whatever it’s called now, are you asked to give your parents’s names, including your mother’s maiden name? Or why are there people who’ll tell you “Pat Finucane – he had relatives that were in the IRA, so…”  It’s in the blood, you’re related to someone who’s seen as criminal,  so clearly you too must be criminal or at the very least have criminal tendencies, better watch out for that guy. It even happens to children.  I’ve heard the occasional bone-brained teacher say in the staffroom :“Oh, you have one of the Murphys/Smiths/McStravicks/Whatever  this year – God pity you!  I taught both the older brothers – they’re a bad lot”.

Could anything be more unjust than to blame people for what their relatives do? Or, as is happening in the Liam Adams case, to form a link in the public mind which you hope will damage a political party.

The law may or may not be a ass. But the way some people manipulate it is venomous.

How to make a bond-holder happy

Maybe it's worked. Maybe electing Michael D Higgins has turned the south of Ireland's luck. Because today - and we all share in this rejoicing, north and south - the southern government has discovered an extra €3.6 billion it didn't know it had! Can you imagine how much money that is? No, neither can I but it's loads and loads. And loads.

You know how you feel when you find a pound coin or even a fiver down the back of the sofa - part of you is delighted, but another niggling part wants to know what the hell you were doing,  stupid bloody eejit, letting your money slide out of your pocket like that, time to smarten up and look after your few shekels. That's what the south's government is feeling this morning. The government is naturally delighted but The Department of Finance is blaming the National Treasury Management Agency and the Central Statistics Office is lurking in the background trying to look innocent.  The Minister for Finance, though,  rises above all that. David Noonan says that "certainly a mistake took place, that to err is human". Well  of course. Which of us - now come on, be honest - which of us hasn't mislaid the odd billion euro from time to time? I know I have.

And the odd thing is, this news about the billions down the sofa has come just the day before the south gets ready to pour €750 million into the Anglo-Irish bank.  What's that - you thought the Anglo-Irish bank was dead, no longer functioning? Well it is really, but  it's clearly going to get a good funeral. Mind you there are some hotheads and economic illiterates who say that this €750 million is to pay off senior bond-holders who invested in the bank with no guarantee attached, and that it's  just like you or I might put money on a horse (or en election outcome) and find we'd backed the wrong nag. Except, of course, that the bond-holders will hold onto their money (that's why they're called bond-holders) whereas you or I could go and suck our thumb or kick the family cat, we made the bet and we bloody-well lost.

"But why?" you ask. Easy. The reason the tax-payers of the south are giving the bond-holders all that lovely lolly today is that Europe might think badly of Ireland if they didn't. Next you know you'd get a bad name. People on the international street would point you out and say  "See that lot? When foreign investors buy bonds in one of their zombie banks, they haven't even the decency to take the lost money from their tax-payers' pockets and give it to the investors. A cheap, hopeless shower!" And the Irish in Europe would have to hang their heads and shuffle their feet. Our international reputation for being flaithiúil would be shot to pieces.

But the Irish government, God bless them, have made sure no such charge can be made. All day today they'll be shovelling the stuff into the zombie bank, until all €750 million has gone winging back into the pockets of the bond-holders. And I expect you know that next January, they'll be shovelling  a bit  over another billion euro in the same direction. For the same reasons.

Funny how things come together, isn't it? Ninety-one years ago yesterday, after torture, Kevin Barry was hanged in Mountjoy prison. His last words, according to the prison chaplain, were "Hold on and stick to the republic".  I bet he'd be proud of the south's government today.

Wearing the poppy - it's your right, you know

That was an interesting news item on  BBC TV last night, wasn’t it? A young woman who’d worn a small poppy-emblem on her shirt was told to remove it as, presumably, her employers wanted a political-emblems-free zone. She refused and won. Now all the Poundland (is that what they’re called?) stores throughout the UK have given the OK to wearing poppies. 

Fair play. The young woman clearly feels something for the poppy, which represents those who gave their lives fighting in the British Army down the years.  Some people think that deserves honouring, which is why Maggie Ritchie,  briefly the SDLP leader, will be wearing one.  Myself, I won’t be.  Never have and probably never will. But that’s because I have a different view of the British Army from Maggie Ritchie and the young woman from Poundland. Different folks, different strokes. A question of tolerance, really.

But then you think about it and you start to see how far tolerance stretches. In the BBC in Belfast, except things take a dramatic turn this year,  all presenters appearing on the TV screen will be wearing a poppy. A few years ago Donna Traynor, I believe,  expressed reluctance to wear one but after a short sharp chat with management, normal service was resumed and she appeared wearing it.

So to sum up, everyone in Poundland has the right to wear a poppy, everybody appearing on the BBC Belfast screen must wear a poppy.  

And then there’s the question of the Easter Lily. It honours those who died in the cause of Irish freedom. That’s freedom from domination by Britain. And this is the point where I offer a bet. I’ll give you 10-1 that no presenter in the BBC this Eastertime will wear an Easter Lily.  You can,  you must wear a poppy, which honours all those who served in the British Army for decades and centuries; you cannot and you must not wear an Easter Lily (or any similar emblem), which honours those who fought and died in the search for Irish freedom.

I hate to say it, boys and girls, but if you think it’s a long, long way to Tipperary, it’s a  damned sight  longer way to equality in this sad little north-east corner. 

Michael D's victory speech - "Is feidir linn!" or what?

I remember Barack Obama’s victory speech in Chicago three years ago.  Bet you do too. The vast crowd, the faces gleaming with expectation, the soaring oratory, the tears of joy and pride. One of our own, the black people said, one of our own. Stirring stuff. There was more stirring stuff in Galway last night – Eyre Square crammed, flags and bands, cheers and tears, and of course Michael D Higgins’s soaring oratory. One of our own, the Galway people said, one of our own.

Today, with just a year before the US’s presidential election, Obama is taking a pounding in the polls. I’m not totally surprised. “Yes we can!” stirred the blood, including my own, but I never quite understood it. Can what? Beat Al Quaida? Rethink American foreign policy? Start feeding the one in six American children who go to bed hungry each night? What?

So let’s take a peek at  Higgins’s victory speech.  He refers to the “many valuable suggestions” of other candidates  “which I hope to include and encompass over the next seven years”.

He spoke of “an inclusive citizenship, which is about equality, participation and respect” and his “vision of a real republic where life and language, where ideals and experience, have the ring of authenticity, which we need now as we go forward”.

OK. There’s loads more but that’s enough. Once I hear a politician say “going forward” I know s/he is doing the equivalent of Harold Wilson lighting his  pipe during a TV interview – playing for time so he can think of the next thing to say.

Right. Those many valuable suggestions  by other candidates that the President-elect is “hoping to include and encompass”. Which ones? And why did he not tell us they were valuable until now?

That “inclusive citizenship” thing. I'm an Irish citizen. How will the new President work to make sure I’m included in, for example, voting for his successor? Can I have an example as to how I will be treated with equality and encouraged to participate in (presumably political) life ‘down there’? And is the “real republic” he has in mind the same one that Tone, Pearse and Connolly talked about? At a basic geographical level, how many counties will it have?

What does a republic “where life and language, where ideals and experience have the ring of authenticity” look like? Come to that, what does the statement mean? Anything? Or is it another “Is feidir linn!” – “Yes we can!”?

You're quite right - it's not the done thing to be critical of someone newly elected,  but  frankly I don't give a damn for the done thing. Higgins himself would surely agree that words must mean something.  Emotionally I thought his victory speech, like Obama’s, was eloquent and passionate, and you could see why those Galway people were getting choked up. In terms of meaning his speech was mainly  smoke and mirrors. 

A letter from the Park (or near as dammit)

Dear comrade,

Thank you for your letter of congratulation and you are indeed right, Ireland couldn't possibly have elected a more intelligent or cultured man than myself, or, let me add, one who has published more books.  So, dear Comrade, this grey October morning, I unite myself with you in the solidarity of being over the moon. It was as you point out a singularly bruising contest but let me add that I maintained my dignity at all times,  don't you know, even when that nightclub bouncer creature looked home and, as the cliché has it, dry. Happily most of the blows aimed at me  went over my head and struck an opponent which was, as they say now, a bonus. And so today, I gird my loins (such as they are) for movement into the highest office in the land.

 Which is as it should be.  Mine, as you doubtless are aware, has been a life dedicated to things of the spirit rather than the flesh, to the cause of culture and not cute-hoorism. I am proud to number among my friends and, might I modestly add, admirers,  people from all over the world, not least the gallant rebels of Nicaragua and the Middle East. When called on  I was never  found wanting in my willingness to speak out in favour of such oppressed people and have stood  shoulder to shoulder or, where a box was not available, shoulder to thigh with these men  - and women, of course women, indeed - men and women of courage in their search for those pearls beyond price, freedom and equality.

You may ask me what I mean by the word  'freedom' and 'equality, and while I am tempted to respond with the words of my good friend Kris Kristofferson,  that freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose, I choose rather to use the term as it was used in classical Roman times, that is, as an identifier, an innate feature of the citizen's rights in our new Republic. And let me add to that my complete and utter rejection of the term 'republic' which we sometimes hear prated by the rag-tag-and-bobtail ruffians of Belfast and  Derry and south Armagh. These people have the temerity to use such sacred words as 'liberty' and 'unity', when in fact they have never studied Latin as I have, when they wouldn't know their in toto  from their ad nauseam.  And yet they dare to speak of liberty!

And while I find myself on that subject, under my Presidency there'll be rather more discrimination from now on about who is allowed to tramp  over the lawns of Aras an Uachtarain.  We will of course maintain our sympathy and solidarity with the oppressed unionist people of Northern Ireland, but if Jackie McDonald or anyone else thinks they're going to be down here deafening the neighbours with their singularly tuneless Lambeg Drums every Twelfth of July they've got another thing coming.  Likewise with this presidential habit of continual tripping northwards, sadly  a feature of my predecessor. I wish to imply no criticism or censure, but  in these times of austerity we must preserve as much as possible of the national budget, not for northern jaunts but for things artistic, for the ethereal joy of sean-nos singing and the glory of the Saw Doctors in full flight.  Besides, I once found myself standing beside the aforesaid Mr McDonald  (Why incidentally are so many of these people called 'Jackie'?), and let me be honest, I found it an unnerving experience.  So no more drum-pounding and parading about the Park, frightening the squirrels and deer every Twelfth.  What guests I have will be a carefully selected number, including such sensitive musicians as  the Saw Doctors and Bono, and even reaching out as far as the likes of  Paul Brady.

Finally, people ask me what sort of presidency will mine be - what will be its distinguishing theme? I must tell them and tell  you that if I were to sum it up in one word, that word would be 'Towards a New and Better Republic'. Yes indeed, that's five or six words, but let's not quibble, dear comrade. The point I want to emphasise is that I will help the Irish people  rediscover their Irishness and together we will build a new republic, a new Jerusalem you might say, inclusive of all citizens who have documented evidence of an IQ within 10 points mine and who live within the boundaries of this 26-county state we feel proud to call Eire. Together we will imagine a new Ireland, a new age, in which men dare to dream dreams and where those who, like myself, have written and published books of poetry will be given their rightful place as na crionnaí  or council members in my brave new tomorrow.

What more can I say, comrade? If it wasn't for this blasted knee I'd be doing a moon dance across the Aras ballroom this very instant. Vincemeros!

Yours in unflinching solidarity

Michael D Higgins

Uachtarán na hÉireann

The Irish Presidential election: five things we now know.

1. Most of the southern media are a sad, craven lot. If you watched Tonight with Vincent Browne  last night you'll have seen an example of how they react when confronted with their own shortcomings. Robert Ballagh told Michael Clifford what he thought and Clifford looked as though he'd swallowed, not a sip from his mug but his own tongue. Ballagh's criticism was that Clifford and Co. dealt with candidates' personalities and ignored the big issues. My own judgement is based on the fact that they spent several weeks standing on coffins pointing at Martin McGuinness and no time examining his record over the past seventeen years. If that's not bias with a capital B, then my cat has five legs.

2. McGuinness's entry transformed the contest. It sent  a surge of electricity through it - the type  surgeons produce when they put clamps on the patient's chest and shout "Stand clear!" When McGuinness announced his candidacy, what had been a half-dead affair was suddenly pulsating, brimming with life.

3. The Irish electorate shouldn't be let out without a grown-up.  With three days to go, with the state on its economic knees having its softer parts squeezed tighter and ever tighter by Europe,  the electorate  decided it would be a wonderful idea to elect a life-long member of the party that banjaxed them.

4.  Sean Gallagher didn't follow Martin McGuinness's career at Stormont. For decades in the north, the question of the  11+ examination was tossed around. It shouldn't be held, yes it should, maybe there's something to be said for it, no there's not,  we've the highest A Level results in the world, we've the highest level of non-qualifieds, etc, etc etc. Then McGuinness was made Minister for Education and within weeks he'd abolished the ghastly examination. Vested interests screamed and still scream, but  the ridiculous exam is gone and it ain't coming back.  Over Gallagher's financial and Fianna Fail dealings, the southern media spent  ten days and more making  tut-tut and oh-dear and well-now noises. McGuinness went onto RTÉ's Frontline  on Monday night and cut through the waffle. He confronted Gallagher with a single clear case of chicanery, Gallagher went ooer,  recollection, envelope, I did, I didn't, where can I implode, please?  I bet Gallagher wishes he'd paid more attention to how Martin McGuinness the politician works.

5. Michael D Higgins owes his place in the Phoenix Park to McGuinness's intervention. The Labour party is denying it already but the facts speak for themselves. On 24 October - three days before election day - paddypower bookies had Sean Gallagher at 1/4 and Michael D Higgins at 5/2.  Three days before.  There was a giant gap between them on the three consecutive polls. McGuinness confronted Gallagher about that cheque and within 48 hours, all bets were off, the gap vanished and Higgins was home. Today, it's a formality - Michael D Higgins will be the ninth President of Ireland.

Why did McGuinness do it?  Well, partly to enhance his party's standing in the eyes of the electorate. No politician acts without an eye to the effect on voters. But  also because that's the kind of man McGuinness is. When he sees something that he believes needs changing, he applies all his formidable power to it - whether that's as an IRA leader, a Minister for Education, a Deputy First Minister or a Presidential candidate. He has indeed done the state some service. Granted, we're back 21 years with an over-the-hill politician being sent to the Park; but think what nearly happened - seven years of Gallagher representing Ireland. Phew - close one, that.

Try to avoid tabloid-think, Terry

Terry Spence of the Police Federation

Since the chances are you're not a total fool, you'll know that the performance of the southern media - not all but a large section  - has been warped to a shameful degree during this election. The fact that they put on a gentlemanly/ladylike act by having an election moratorium for the day or half-day before the polls open should deceive no one. It's  the posturing of hypocrites. That said, you'll get people that believe they weren't warped enough. Yesterday's Indo had a column lambasting RTÉ for being too gentle in their treatment of Martin McGuinness. I'm going to have to hide that last sentence from our cat in case he  takes a seizure.

But let's park the election and the Indo, and turn our thoughts to Terry Spence. He's the chairman of the Police Federation here and he's all over the front of the News Letter  this morning, calling for the withdrawal of benefits from parents of children/teenagers who riot. I was on the BBC's Stephen Nolan show this morning with him and you could have got a more reasoned discussion out of Frank Spencer. If Terry Spence's unspoken assumption that rioting and poverty are linked is true, would we not be better to treat poverty rather than cut benefits? Pass.  Is cutting the family's benefits not like the teacher who punishes everyone in the class because one person did something wrong? Pass. Is there any connection between rioting and the coat-trailing of an anti-Catholic organisation, to wit the Orange Order, in places where it's not wanted? Pass. What parent ever created by God was able to control their child/teenager's actions all day and all of the night? Pass. Wouldn't withdrawing benefits encourage other teenagers in the family to be hung for sheep rather than lambs and  join the rioting as well? Pass.

People like Frank Spen - oops, Terry Spence, should confine their attention to seeing that the police service here, with its ghastly record  over the past forty years, conduct themselves in a manner that'll  win public trust on all sides. They should also resist the temptation to mouth populist platitudes - "Hit them in their pockets!" "I blame the parents!" Leave that to the tabloid rags on both sides of the border.