Beyond the pale

(Dublin, Ireland)

A north-south divide is a fascinating phenomenon. It is easy to understand how geographical barriers like huge mountain ranges create separate identities – for example either side of the Urals or the Himalayas – but a divide just for its own sake seems a little unlikely.

England apparently has such a divide, between the supposedly more industrial, working-class north and the industrial, working-class Midlands and south east. The Earth itself is divided between the immensely rich northern hemisphere – India, Bangladesh, China, Ethiopia and Sudan – and the impoverished southern hemisphere – Australia, South Africa and Argentina.

Dublin, this raven-haired, raggedly-dressed flower girl among capital cities, also has a north-south divide, with the river Liffey providing the buffer between the two different worlds. Northsiders are supposed to be uncouth and unwashed, while the Southside is the haven of unbelievable house prices and incomprehensible accents.

It wasn’t always that way round, though, and it was only when the Duke of Leinster built a tastelessly opulent spread on the south side of the river that the area became fashionable among the ruling class. This monument to oppression and imperialist triumph was saved from such an awful reputation in 1922 when it was turned into the refuge of democracy and impartiality. It became the seat of government.

WHEN THE CRUNCH COMES

Irish history is colourful and fascinating, and even in the relatively short history of this new flowering of the little black rose Leinster House has been the scene of many intriguing political events. None more so than the events of the night of Monday 29th September through to the new dawn of Tuesday 30th September, when an “exhausted” Taoiseach finally announced that a deal had been reached which would guarantee the money deposited in Irish banks.

The exact details of the marathon meetings have already been examined by seasoned commentators in the leading newspapers, and although the attempts of gardaí to track down Green Party leader John Gormley are relevant to the sense of urgency of the night, and the description of banking executives being forced to sweat through hours of uncertainty contributes to the laughter of relief, the analysis of such details must be left to others, as must any comments on the fact that the Irish government has somehow managed to guarantee the people’s deposits with the people’s own money.

By far the most remarkable part of the night was the flurry of telephone calls from London, as reported by Mark Hennessey in The Irish Times (Saturday 4th October). The chief executive of the Royal Bank of Scotland inexplicably called Prince Charles – presumably to demand that he rally the troops – before bending the British Prime Minister’s ear. Britain’s infuriated – and panicked – Chancellor of the Exchequer rang the Taoiseach twice to demand satisfaction, before the impressive person of the Prime Minister of Great Britain and so on twice rang the Taoiseach, first to chide, then to grovel. The Taoiseach’s reply provoked such consternation that the Prime Minister felt he had no choice but to run crying to the President of the European Union.

SWISS FAMILY TRAGEDY

It is surprising to think that Britain still feels it is important enough in the world to be able to throw its political weight around. However, Britain has always had a reputation of being a bully, and the Prime Minister and his Chancellor rang the Taoiseach because Britain still thinks of Ireland as a poor neighbour. Of course, they ignore the fact that any poverty was inflicted on the Irish by the British themselves, and judging by their actions appear to believe that the Irish are irremediably ignorant and incapable of lifting themselves out of the mire.

Would the British government have made such bullying telephone calls to France or Germany, or indeed to the U.S.? Of course not, but recently another interesting case has come to light which, while having nothing to do with the international economic situation, does tend to highlight the British belief that it can legislate for other territories.

On September 12th, a young English man called Daniel James was assisted in his suicide in the Dignitas clinic in Switzerland. His parents had accompanied him on the journey, so a file has now been passed on to the Crown Prosecution Service. To add to the anguish of losing their son, these parents now face a lengthy legal process and the possibility of years in jail.

The arguments for and against assisted suicide will continue for many decades to come, and the fires of controversy can only be stoked by each successive change in legislation. What is relevant here, though, is the fact that the British Government wants to punish people for their actions on foreign soil.

ACCOUNTABILITY

It could be argued that the British government is right to prosecute its citizens when they misbehave abroad. Fair enough.

So where was the government when the hooliganism which has become synonymous with the English reared its ugly head in Marseille, Charleroi, Bratislava, Albufeira and Stuttgart?

Where was the government when Mark Thatcher was accused of trying to start a coup in Equatorial Guinea?

How many of the tens of thousands of British men who go abroad for paedophile tourism are actually prosecuted on their return to Britain?

And what was the government thinking when it gave the British Army permission to invade Afghanistan and Iraq and continue its long history of committing atrocities on foreign soil?

THE HAVES AND THE HAVE NOTS

It seems there is a huge divide in Britain between the haves and the have nots, but it has nothing to do with money. It has more to do with a sense of reality, and while a lot of people may be aware of their humble position in relation to the rest of the planet, the people who make up the British government quite obviously have not got a clue.