Ciaran’s Peculier [sic] Blog

Recently a newspaper carried a list of the expenses of the members of our lower house. Some of the figures were eye opening, not least the 3000,000 plus euro sought by the speaker of the house John O’Donoghue, and the sum in excess of 200,000 received by Deputy Brendan Howlin, who lives in Wexford. Other figures were surprising. My local TD Caoimhghin O Caolain ran up a figure of 120,000 euro but he lives in Monaghan, a considerable distance from Dublin city, yet Dr Michael Woods clocked up  expenses in excess of 130,000 euro, even though he lives in Raheny, only a few stops up the DART – not that he would ever use such a plebeian means of transport.

Now we know that the majority of our parliamentarians – of ALL political stripes – are venal, spineless, and cowardly hypocrites, yet we still live in a sort of democracy which means that WE THE PEOPLE can give them the  elbow at the next election. Of course this seldom rids the country of their pestiferous presence, as they are able to crawl back into the legislature by means of the “scenic route” of election to Seanad Eireann.

But what of those senior decision makers in this country of whose expenses we know nothing? I refer here to the senior civil servants, first secretaries, secretary generals etc., as well as the county managers, county secretaries and other assorted nobodies at local government level. And let us not forget senior members of our judiciary. These people can and do run up gargantuan expenses, but the public seldom knows anything about them. Also hidden under a cloud of unknowing are their shareholdings and memberships of boards of various businesses, as well as the nature of their relationships with business figures, which often amount to serious conflicts of interests. The pubic is generally given the mushroom treatment about all this, and anyone who is so bold as to persist in asking can look forward to years of victimisation and, at local government level, being placed in a permanent position at the bottom of every waiting list around.

Our public service is certainly as hypocritical as our politicians; they are united in an unnatural marriage of convenience. Politicians are told not to ask and they will be told no lies, and if they should happen to join the ranks of the governmental senior hurling team better known as the Cabinet – even if they sit on the sub’s bench of the Ministers of State – they are assured that the officials in their department will be like dad and keep mum about any ministerial misdemeanours.

These mandarins speak of their professionalism and suggest sotto voce that it is only due to their skills that the country works at all. Senior civil servants love to amuse their friends with stories about the stupidity of their masters, about the way they have to write their speeches for them, which are then delivered so excruciatingly. Ministers come, ministers go, but they stay in place. Anyone who lives here is aware that the actions of our public service are dominated by the culture of botch. “It’s not working properly is it not? Ah sure fuck it. “ The public, in whose name they are supposed to act, is The Enemy. If you really want to annoy a public servant remind him or her of an unpleasant reality: they are public servants, you are a member of the public and they are your servants, not their masters; they are people who owe you a duty of service and courtesy.

But if they were just a pack of supercilious and bumbling layabouts it wouldn’t be so bad. When roused from their torpors to action they become vicious monsters, incapable of doing anything but harm, and getting a real buzz out of doing so.

They pretend they are motivated solely by the highest ethical standards; they don’t know what self interest is – mar dhea! However, they see fit to libel and slander members of the public who do not please them and attribute elements from their perverted fantasies to ordinary decent people. But if the public retaliates and tries to fight back they bristle with indignation.

And let us not forget the way the higher public service has long been infected by quasi-Masonic Catholic lay groups such as the Knights of St Columbanus. The evidence may be anecdotal but it is far from fantasy, that the progress (or lack of it) of university graduates in certain  prestigious government departments such as Finance or Foreign Affairs is still dependant on their membership during their student days of groups like Pax Christi. Members of Sinn Fein’s youth wing, or those who flirted (however fleetingly) with Marxism, have found that it is better to keep this quiet if they seek a glittering public service career, yet those who have been active in quasi fascist formations like Youth Defence can wear their past involvement as badges of honour.

So isn’t it a grand little country we have after all: we are ruled  by robbers. Patrick Pearse would be so proud of it, though St Patrick might be disappointed to find that the serpents he had driven from the island were back and very firmly in control.