Being
Lord Mayor of Dublin is not too onerous a gig for
the chosen one. In return for wearing the old golden
chain for a year the incumbent is rewarded with
a rent free city centre mansion and a brand new
limo, as well numerous buckshee banquets and the
best seats for sports and cultural events. The Lord
Mayor of our capital city is not expected to carry
out any 'work' more traumatic than snipping ribbons,
laying foundation stones and planting the odd commemorative
sapling. The quality of Lord Mayors varies of course.
Despite not having any political power the more
effective ones use the post to highlight worthy
causes and charities, rather than for the promotion
of self or party. On the other hand the city can
also suffer an epidemic of public buffoonery, as
exemplified by the reign of Bertie's Boy Wonder
Royston Brady.
There
is nothing too complex about getting your hands
on this year of freebies, all that is required is
that you be a City Councillor and get elected as
Lord Mayor. But not by the 1.5 million citizens
of Dublin, God forbid! Every so often a city councillor
will suggest, somewhat timorously, that the Lord
Mayor should be elected by popular mandate. Fianna
Fail repeatedly puts the kibosh on any such proposition,
knowing full well that if the common herd was allowed
a say the party would never again hold the position.
Instead the cabal of city councillors doll themselves
up in ermine robes and select one of their number
for the honour. By a 'you scratch my back' procedure
a name is agreed, the actual vote casting being
a mere formality. Throughout most of the past decade,
for example, the Lord Mayorship was batted back
and forth between Fianna Fail and Labour as these
parties had a voting pact on the Corporation and
were determined to keep all other snouts out of
the trough.
One
of the 'first citizens' to hit the limelight in
this period was Councillor Dermot Lacey, a Labour
Councillor for Dublin 4. Prior to taking up residence
in the Mansion House Dermot's main political activity
appears to have been frequent complaints in the
local press on the mysterious moving post box of
Donnybrook. This public amenity, the only one in
the village, was known to be relocated at frequent
intervals, a cause of great outrage and annoyance
to Mr Lacey. This genteel representation of the
concerns of the blue rinse brigade was not a great
preparation for high municipal office, where poor
Dermot was subjected to the regular embarrassment
of being hounded by nasty and uncouth citizens from
the 'rougher' suburbs who turned up to publicly
berate him for voting in favour of the Bin Tax.
But
Dermot survived the trauma and after his year was
up returned to the relative anonymity of City Hall.
He burst back on the political scene recently with
a truly inspired proposal, one that could scarcely
be credited to even the most megalomaniac Roman
emperor or half crazed Russian Tsar. He has proposed
that the City Council should bestow a 'golden badge'
on each of the previous holders of the position
of Lord Mayor, of which there are 30+ still in the
land of the living. The badges would cost 5,000
euros a pop, totalling 150,000 in all. Being a member
of the touchy feely Labour Party Dermot does not
want to exclude anyone, so the tax payer is also
being asked to stump up for 'silver badges' for
the 'Lady Mayoresses', who are sort of spare mayors
who attend events which are beneath the notice of
the main man. The badges will be in the form of
lapel or tie pins for the males and brooches for
the ladies, which is nice.
Lacey
has been joined in his crusade by Cllr Mary Freehill,
another Labour worthy from the leafier parts of
South Dublin. Mary's year as Mayor is perhaps best
remembered for her 'Orange Lil' proposal that the
Orange Order should march down Dawson Street to
mark the foundation of the sectarian gang there,
by a bunch of aristocratic war criminals, in 1798.
Freehill has managed to steer the badges proposal
through the City Council's 'Protocol and Selection
Committee', whatever that may be. However at least
Freehill managed to attend these meetings, her absence
being noticeable over the years from meetings where
she would have to take a stand on the Bin Tax. To
add insult to injury the councillors are also demanding
up to 1,000 euros to fund a booze up to 'launch'
these badges. If this takes place in the Mansion
House bar perhaps the attendees will take a peep
into the Oak Room, where all ex-Mayors are already
honoured with walls of makey-up heraldic crests
to mark their years in office.
The
only political voice raised against the proposal,
so far, has been that of Killian Forde, a young
Sinn Fein councillor, who correctly described the
whole charade as 'self serving pompous nonsense'.
Lacey's patronising response to Forde's criticism
was to describe his fellow councillor as 'childish',
while Freehill went all precious about her hard
years of unpaid toil serving the people of Dublin.
Since the role of councillors is to represent the
views and concerns of their constituents it would
be interesting if the Labour councillors could explain
to us mere taxpayers who lobbied them to put forward
this proposal. Otherwise us uncharitable cynics
might believe that that the notion sprang fully
formed from their own sense of self aggrandisement,
rather like the legendary emperor with the invisible
golden robes.
In
the same week as Labour's proposal for the further
edification of it's members by draping them like
Christmas trees hit the public prints, so too did
a couple of revealing reports on the reality of
how 'Celtic Tiger' treats some of it's most vulnerable
citizens. The Combat Poverty Agency 2005 report
stated that 160,000 children in Ireland live in
consistent poverty, while a study from the children's
charity Barnardos put the figure at one in seven.
This definition of consistent poverty relates to
children who do not have access to basics such as
one substantial meal a day, a warm winter coat and
adequate home heating. A Barnardos spokesperson
explained that 'What poverty means in reality is
that one in seven children in Ireland goes to bed
without having had a substantial meal. It means
that kids are cold in bed at night because there
is no heating in their house, or if there is, their
parents cannot afford to turn it on. This is the
cold hard reality of the lives of one in seven children
in this country today, and this is a country which
has pledged to cherish all the children of the nation
equally.'
It
is worth reflecting that this pledge, so often invoked
that it is now a pious cliché, first appeared
in the Proclamation of the Republic in 1916, much
of it written by James Connolly. Connolly himself
was a founder of the Labour Party and ran, unsuccessfully,
for the position of councillor in Dublin. Somehow
I don't think awarding himself gold medals would
have been top of his agenda sheet in City Hall.
