Hat's Off: The True Meaning of Christmas

Image c/o FunnyChill.com

DURING CHRISTMAS certain things are, unfortunately, inevitable. You know that you will eat too much, drink too much, spend too much and ultimately vomit at some point. Or - as we call it in Sligo - Tuesday night.

With all of this going on, it's virtually impossible to focus on the real meaning of the most festive of all seasons. It's hard to decipher what exactly that is but, being so knowledgeable and all, I've got some inside information. I don't like to brag but I saw a television once. *Gasps of excitement* Now that you've regrouped, I'm going to drop some wisdom grenades. This particular incident of TV voyeurism just so happened to take place in mid-August so, naturally, there was a Christmas advertisement being shown. From what I gather, 25 December has something to do with a bearded fat man and a donkey - I think it originally represented the national holiday for petting zoos. That, or Rolf Harris' birthday. I was never much good at reading in between the lines.

It could be argued that contemporary Christmas is little more than an extensive marketing ploy that leads you to eat too much, drink too much, spend too much and ultimately vomit at some point. Can you see a pattern forming? I wasn't always this bitter, though. I suppose my untainted Christmas joy began to fade when I was about eight years old and a certain member of third class decided to inform her less street-smart peers of a few Santa-related home truths. It was one of the first "Oh God, life is actually a big ball of crap" moments I've ever experienced. Did this mean there was no God, and, more importantly, who the hell kept putting money under my pillow when my teeth fell out?  Existence as I knew it was forever altered. I don't think I've ever looked at my parents quite the same way again.

Some time has passed since then (I'm now ten) and, thanks to extensive therapy sessions, I have partially moved on with my life. I'm making such great progress that I can now reminisce about Christmases of old. Don't worry, I'm not going to go all Christmas Carol on your ass and start discussing ghosts. I used to have ghosts of Christmas past, present and future but government funding cuts meant my organisation had to scale back on paying superfluous or "dead" members of staff. God damn bureaucracy.

Before I reached double digits, December was my absolute favourite time of the year. The sheer, unadulterated excitement a child experiences in the immediate run up to Christmas morning is arguably the greatest feeling in the world. I remember the joy I felt at receiving my Forever Friends play house when I was four. I believe epic is the word. It was orange (when I was four, everything had to be orange). I essentially lived there for about a week until the novelty wore off and one of the load-bearing plastic poles gave way. Good times. I still intend to use its layout as a blueprint for building my own house when I reach the age where I think it's fun to build houses. I reckon I'll be able to realise this particular dream when I'm in or around 72 years old.

When I was seven, I accumulated one of my most successful Christmas collections: a Father Ted box set, a bright blue Adidas shell suit (with the obligatory three stripes down the side) and the most amazing purple bike you've ever seen. I was one cool kid. I briefly queried how good old Saint Nick managed to successfully manoeuvre our modest chimney with four bikes for myself and my sisters but didn't feel the need to dwell on this. Santa is magic and that's all I needed to know.

In contrast, recent Christmas days seem somewhat dull. I no longer want to get up at five o'clock in the morning to inspect my presents as an annual pyjama haul pales in comparison to the heady youthful days of the 1990s. Money seems to be the default gift now. Don't get wrong, cash is useful - I buy things like stickers and cheese all the time. One thing's for sure, though: building a house out of bank notes is neither easy nor wise. If only the government had come to me for advice before the property boom - I'd have set them straight: plastic toy houses are where it's at.
   
In an attempt to bridge the gap between Christmases old and new, this year I plan to spend the day itself eating a selection box for breakfast, watching The Santa Clause trilogy in one sitting and pumping out the Cliff Richard. And remember, if you find yourself at a loss of what to do this festive season: eat too much, drink too much, spend too much and ultimately vomit at some point.


This article was also published on the Irish Independent website and Campus.ie and in Student Independent News, NUI Galway's student newspaper.

Clientelist Culture - Holding Back Ireland's Political Policies?

Image c/o Broadsheet.ie

THE IRISH political system is littered with oddities - before one even begins to discuss individuals. Some of these anomalies have led to the culture of clientelism that exists in our country. TDs have two roles - firstly that of legislator and, secondly, local dignitary and promoter. In Irish eyes, the latter is usually deemed more important.

Political parties often choose to contest an election on local issues¹, to the detriment of policy formation and legislation. And who could blame them? From 1922-1997, 34 per cent of TDs who lost their seats did so to a running mate. Our electoral system - Proportional Representation by means of a Single Transferable Vote in a Multi-Seat Constituency (PR-STV) - pits members of the same party against each other. Given the fact they cannot differentiate themselves from their peers on ideological issues, they must do so in terms of constituency work. In the 2002 General Election, the 14 Independent seats went to candidates who argued that their constituencies were not receiving enough government funding, particularly in terms of the ever-emotive area of health services.²

Clientelism exists for a number of reasons. Ireland's colonial background has created a history of alienation from central government, stemming back to British Rule. The urban-rural divide or 'us and them' mentality is also a factor in this regard. In the 1960s Basil Chubb, one of the first political commentators of the modern era, stated: "For generations, Irish people saw that, to get the benefits the public authorities bestow, the help of a man with connections and influence was necessary. All that democracy has meant is that such a man has been laid on officially, as it were, and is now no longer a master but a servant."³

Article 16.2.6 of the 1937 Irish Constitution states that a TD can represent a maximum of 30,000 citizens. One might assume that this relatively small ratio would enable politicians to spend the majority of their time focusing on their primary role of legislator. This, however, is not the case. The scale of society means that TDs can hold up to four 'clinics' a week, where they listen to the grievances of their constituents and, essentially, are asked for favours.

Many people still hold the opinion that one must know someone with "pull" in order to receive the State benefits they are entitled to. However, politicians often access facilities rather than provide them. They have experience of dealing with our particular brand of bureaucracy and know how to navigate the often complex maze that is Irish red tape. Meticulous applications for planning permission and social welfare benefits could well be as effective, if not more so, than supposed political intervention. Whether or not TDs actually exercise any influence on a decision that affects their constituency, or a member of it, is much debated. It has been claimed that they rarely objectively impact such decisions but merely create imaginary patronage through an "illusion of assistance" aided by advance knowledge of the outcome.³

This type of activity is systemic and cabinet ministers are seemingly as prone to engage in the process of brokerage as their lesser-known peers. The resignation of the Junior Minister for Health, Labour's Róisín Shortall, in September - over what she labelled "stroke politics" by Minister for Health James Reilly - highlighted this fact. Two locations in his north Dublin constituency were added to a list of places chosen for primary care centres on the evening before they were announced by the Government. The HSE and Ms Shortall had drawn up a priority list of locations in terms of need for the service. On it, Balbriggan ranked 44th and Swords was placed in 130th position. There were 36 locations on the final list. Despite near constant allegations, Mr Reilly has repeatedly denied localism played a part in the last minute additions. Last week's austere budget has deflected some attention from this particular issue but the argument still rumbles on.

Clientelism keeps politicians in touch with local issues but, unfortunately, its negative consequences far outweigh the positive ones. Clientelism disorganises the poor and vulnerable in society as it prevents them from grouping together and attempting to bring about real social and political change.³ It increases resentment and a feeling of exclusion for those who disagree with or do not engage in the practice.³ It also makes it extremely difficult for new politicians to break through and pump much needed fresh blood into the body of the Irish government.³

President Michael D Higgins previously stated that clientelism "seriously sells us short and distracts attention from the real basis of economic exploitation, political domination and ideological manipulation in Irish society".³ It seems that the process, like many contentious Irish political issues, isn't going away any time soon. Perhaps if our elected representatives spent more time dealing with their primary role of policy making, better decisions - both in terms of investment and cutbacks - might be made.


References:

¹ Adshead, M and Tonge, J (2009) Politics in Ireland, Palgrave Macmillan
² Gallagher, M; Marsh, M and Mitchell, P (2003) How Ireland Voted 2002, Palgrave Macmillan
³ Higgins, MD (2008) Causes for Concern: Irish Politics, Culture and Society, Liberties Press

We Need To Talk About Death

Image c/o The Irish Hospice Foundation

A SINGLE DEATH is said to directly affect an average of ten people. With this in mind, there are some 290,000 people grieving in Ireland each year. Death is the only inevitable aspect of any life and yet we feel hugely uncomfortable discussing it. Why can't we talk about this particular elephant in the room until we need a coffin for it? Quite simply, because it hurts. When it's someone close to you, it hurts like hell.

'Death anxiety' is a huge, often hidden, problem. Susan Delaney, Bereavement Services Manager at the Irish Hospice Foundation (IHF), maintains that "no one wants to think about [death] before they have to". Even after-the-fact, letting your mind become acquainted with thoughts of quietus can be extremely difficult. Ms Delaney acknowledges that people are often surprised by the impact of grief and find themselves poorly equipped to deal with it. She says: "It happens to us all but it can still be an ambush."

Essentially my family was given just shy of three days to come to terms with the fact that our husband and father would die. Up until that point, hope was ever-present. It could have been due to the fact we simply refused to let ourselves accept the inevitable, heartbreaking truth. It might have been that the medical team treating him tried to sugar-coat the real prognosis. In truth, it was probably a combination of both. Envisaging a world without dad was unfathomable. The sun was removed from our universe and we were expected to somehow survive. He was the strongest, most significant male presence in each of our lives and his passing has left a mammoth void.

He did not smoke, he barely drank, he was active; he was diagnosed with a type and level of cancer that is extremely aggressive and most common amongst overweight people who smoke and drink regularly. Various types of treatment ensued - some worked briefly, others not at all. Seven months later he was gone. None of this made sense - it all seemed surreal and, for the most part, we let it. The sheer strangeness of it all dulled the pain and made it easier to pretend none of the nightmare was actually happening. It sometimes still does. Watching someone you love die is, obviously, beyond horrendous. By the end, you will them to go. You want them to be free and feel no pain. Admitting defeat is the only option left on the table.

Our three day countdown was an odd period. It was full of emotion - we cried, we laughed, we talked. As dad himself pointed out, if he had been hit by a car and died instantly we would have never had the chance to say how much we loved each other. Nothing was left unsaid and he died happy. Amongst the sheer agony of loss, that is something that provided a gargantuan sense of relief and gratitude for us all.

The five 'stages' of grief are supposedly denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. I've definitely experienced all of these during the eight months since my father's passing. For me, they were not mutually exclusive entities. Grief is like a river: it ebbs and flows. One moment everything is calm and manageable, the next you're hurtling headfirst down a waterfall. To be perfectly honest, I'm still in a period of denial. I get by because I refuse to dwell on the truth. In those moments when it hits me that he's gone, I find it hard to breath.

I'm aware that my experience is not unique. Bereavement does not come with a guide book and approximately ten per cent of those dealing with it require extra support in the form of therapy. Although the IHF does not provide counselling itself, it acts act an information hub for the many people who contact the organisation when attempting to come to terms with their grief. The charity runs a number of bereavement-related courses. 

Ms Delaney says people are "very hungry for training" - a fact supported by the waiting lists that exist for certain training initiatives. The IHF has twice held a Bereavement Care Liaison Project in conjunction with the HSE in the midlands. Although there are currently no plans for similar projects elsewhere, the body is striving to help provide equal access to bereavement help nationwide. Financial donations by the public are imperative to the charity as they receive no official funding. Ms Delaney notes that there are many misconceptions regarding bereavement but believes that each person will respond and recover in a way that is natural to them. "People are resilient," she says.

While it can be difficult for adults to express grief, it can be even more of a challenge for children and young people to articulate the pain inflicted by the loss of a loved one. Barnardos' Bereavement Counselling for Children (BBCC) Helpline receives approximately four hundred calls annually from parents, carers, social workers, GPs and Gardaí who are looking to support children following a death in the family. In 2011, the charity provided bereavement counselling for 396 children and families. While the Helpline is a national service, the organisation's counselling department operates from Dublin and Cork. These venues were selected based on population size and need. Unfortunately, resources do not permit the expansion of the service at this point.

The Family Support Agency (FSA) provides about fifty per cent of their finance and the remainder comes from voluntary funds such as public donations. The FSA grant received by Barnardos will be almost halved from 2011 - 2014. Valerie Kelly, BBCC's Head of Service, admits that it will not be possible to provide the present level of service from 2013 onwards. This year, the Commission for the Support of Victims of Crime donated €23,500 to help the association's work with families of homicide victims, while Electric Ireland pledged €15,000 towards aiding their work with those bereaved through suicide. The BBCC is the only dedicated children’s bereavement counselling service in the Republic.

Understanding grief will only ever become more achievable through open and frank discussions on the subject. Even then, it will more than likely remain an enigma. Nevertheless, by taking the time to talk about life ending we might well come that little bit closer to understanding life itself and the grief we will all have to face at some point. Those grieving, and the organisations that aid them, need support. 

For further information on the IHF's bereavement services, visit their website or phone (01) 6793188. The BBCC can be contacted via (01) 473 2110 or online.

Funding for NUI Galway Suicide Intervention Course Restored

Image c/o NUI Galway Students' Union

FUNDING for a suicide intervention training course that was discontinued in NUI Galway in October has been restored by the HSE.

The Applied Suicide Intervention Skills Training programme was scrapped due to government cutbacks, but the decision was overturned following lobbying by the Students' Union.

Patrick Clancy, the university's Convenor for Arts, Social Sciences and Celtic Studies, has welcomed the decision to recommence the ASIST course but maintains more needs to be done. The initiative will now take place in February next year.

"I am very pleased to hear that the funding is available in 2013. In this academic year, over 50 people were due to be trained as part of this programme. However, due to the cutbacks, under 25 will now be trained . . . So, while I welcome the funding being continued in 2013, I respectfully demand that there is a second course for NUIG students put on in the latter half of the semester," Mr Clancy said.

"This course is provided at minimal cost to the HSE and it leads directly into saving the most vulnerable age group from suicide. Some 84 per cent of fatalities from suicide are male. The biggest sector susceptible to suicide is the 'male between 18 & 25' group," he added.

Mr Clancy has been lobbying all TDs in Galway, Mayo and Clare about the issue for the past three months. He also contacted An Taoiseach Enda Kenny who in turn brought the matter to the attention of Anne O'Neill, Business Area Manager with HSE West.

The ASIST course has been held on campus once a semester since 2009. Its aim is to equip participants, both students and staff, with the skills needed to provide suicide first aid for a person at risk. Over the past decade, 25,000 people have been trained in the programme nationally.

Minister for Health James Reilly confirmed the HSE's decision to re-allocate funding for the initiative last week. “The HSE acknowledges the great support they have received from the NUIG Students Union over the last number of years and plans to continue to work in partnership with the SU and deliver an ASIST workshop in NUIG in February 2013,” stated Minister Reilly.

The head of NUI Galway's Student Counselling Service has also welcomed the news, describing the initial decision to cut the programme as "short-sighted". "When authorities such as the HSE are pressed financially, training can seem like an easy cut to make," Bea Gavin commented. "The benefits from this course far outweigh the cost," she added.

Ms Gavin said she hoped the decision might lead to funding being granted for similar college-based initiatives aimed at mental health professionals. A STORM self-harm risk assessment and management training course for therapists took place in NUI Galway in January of this year but there are currently no plans for it to be re-run.

Information on ASIST is available on the National Office for Suicide Prevention website: www.nosp.ie. For further details on NUI Galway's free and confidential counselling services, contact 087-6644299 or counselling@nuigalway.ie. 


This article was also published in The Connacht Tribune and Student Independent News, NUI Galway's student newspaper.

HSE cutbacks force cancellation of NUIG suicide intervention programme

Image c/o NUI Galway Students' Union

THE CASH-STRAPPED HSE has abandoned a suicide intervention programme aimed at students in NUI Galway, after the Government opted to use €35 million allocated for mental health services to offset the massive health budget deficit.

The Applied Suicide Intervention Skills Training course was due to take place in the college earlier this month but the initiative was scrapped as a direct result of HSE cuts brought on by the current economic situation.
 
The Students’ Union has been running the two-day ASIST course on campus once a semester since 2009, with 60 people attending annually. The course was provided free of charge by the HSE while the SU facilitated the enrolling of students.
 
Over the past decade, 25,000 people have been trained in the ASIST programme nationally, with 3,000 people taking part in the initiative so far this year.
 
Joanna Brophy, the course's co-ordinator at the university, has criticised its cancellation, saying it means dozens of students will now not be trained in suicide prevention skills. The HSE plans to deliver another ASIST workshop in NUI Galway in February 2013. "In the meantime we have worked with AWARE to bring the six-week free Living Life to the Full course to campus this semester," Ms Brophy stated.
 
A spokesperson for the HSE acknowledged "the great support" the organisation has received from the college's Students' Union in the past and blamed the ASIST cancellation on financial constraints imposed by the Government and the Troika. The body is seeking to save €26million in 2012 by making cutbacks in the areas of education, training and travel.
 
NUI Galway's Head of Counselling Bea Gavin has described the abandonment of the ASIST programme this semester as "very regrettable". "One of the great benefits of the training is that it encourages those who are concerned about vulnerable young people to talk to them openly about their feelings and to encourage them to seek help," she asserted.
 
In light of this development, the college’s Student Welfare Officer has called for increased mental health services at both local and national level.
 
Dami Adebari, who is also Vice President of the Students' Union, praised the counselling facilities available at the university and the success of their recent Mental Health Week but stated that more needs to be done to help those in trouble.
 
"When things get hard, we all have to take a hit," Mr Adebari stated. However, he feels the same rule should not apply in relation to psychiatric services - initiatives that have a proven track record of success. "These are people's lives at stake here," he said.
 
Ironically the SU has just announced that it has chosen a suicide prevention charity as one of the beneficiaries of its fundraising efforts during this academic year. Pieta House is a non-profit organisation that provides specialised treatment programmes for people who are dealing with suicidal thoughts or self-harming issues.
 
The charity plans to open its first western facility in Tuam next year. Some eighty per cent of their funding comes from public donations and the new centre is the result of an 18 month fundraising campaign led by local businessman John Concannon. The amenity will be located on Bishop Street and will serve Galway, Mayo and Roscommon.
 
"Suicide can happen to anyone and I want to ask everyone in NUI Galway to look out for their friends and classmates and get in contact with us if they think anyone may be in distress," Joan Freeman, Pieta House founder, stated.
 
For further details on NUI Galway's free and confidential counselling services, contact 087-6644299 or counselling@nuigalway.ie. Information about Pieta House is available here.


This article was also published in The Connacht Tribune and Student Independent News, NUI Galway's student newspaper.

Hat's Off: Without Music, Life Would Be a Mistake

Image c/o FattyPolitic.Tumblr.com

"DEAR GOD, this cannot be happening." I was en route to Dublin to run my first marathon when it dawned on me that I had forgotten my headphones. As far as I was concerned, I might as well have come without my legs.

I can't get through an ordinary day without music, let alone a day like this. I had spent the previous weekend transforming my iPod into a conveyor of extremely aggressive audio. My playlist was an eclectic mix of protest performers: anti-war campaigners, jilted lovers, people who include 'shouting loudly' among the upper echelons of a list of their pastimes - that sort of thing. It was so full of angst, any self-respecting death metaller would have high-fived me and become momentarily happy upon hearing my songs shuffle.

After a slight nervous breakdown, the beard of Zeus came through and my driver discovered a spare pair of emergency ear phones in the car. In actual fact it was my sister's boyfriend but, for argument's sake, let's imagine I have a chauffeur - it makes me feel important, like I'm Dana or something. So, thankfully, the organisers didn't have to cancel the race and tell some 14,000 people to kindly feck off home as "Órla needs music to function". Twenty six miles later and my ears were still scared and feet still moving - due, in no small part, to Korn's back catalogue.

There are few things in life that the majority of human beings have in common. One exception to this rule is the age-old and omnipresent art form of music: it breaks down boundaries, frees the mind and moves body and soul like nothing else. Musical snobbery is commonplace but, screw it, listen loudly and proudly to whatever the hell you like. I have no time for this 'guilty pleasure' bullshit. Unless your favourite sound is that of a puppy whimpering while you kick it - or, you know, something equally awful like Coldplay - you shouldn't feel remotely remorseful about your aural choices.

Music transports a person like nothing else. When I hear Boston's More Than a Feeling, I instantaneously become a member of the Scrubs air band. For the five minutes that This Must be the Place plays, there is nothing in this world but love and dancing around  lampshades. While James Brown hollers through my speakers, I am sex machine, damn it. And when I'm running and Eye of the Tiger kicks in, Sylvester Stallone ain't got nothin' on me. Music can be informative, too: The Bad Touch imparted by the Bloodhound Gang almost single-handedly provided the sexual education of countless pupils at the turn of the millennium. 

Music invokes emotions and triggers memories. A recent study at London's Imperial College highlighted the potential it has in aiding the rebuilding of neurological functions of stroke patients. When Democratic Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords was shot in the head by a lone gunman in Arizona in 2011, she was left without the ability to talk. The politician utilised music-based therapy to regain her speech. Michael De Georgia, an expert in the pioneering field of music-centred medicine, admitted that in the past many people viewed music as superfluous: "No one understood why it developed from an evolutionary standpoint." "We are just starting to understand how powerful music can be. We don't know what the limits are," he added.

Music freedom is one of the many subconscious liberties we are blessed with in the western world. Islamist militants recently banned music in northern Mali, a country famed for its diverse musical heritage. A world without music simply does not bear thinking about. A tuneless society would fail. We're married to music - it sticks in out heads, lodges itself under our skin and becomes a significant presence in our lives, either overtly or subtly.

Music does not discriminate. A case in point is the relatively modern phenomenon of the silent disco. There are few sights more beautiful than that of a supposedly silent room full of people of every shape, size and style moving independently, yet in unison. Here we are different, here we are equal. As Nietzsche once put it: “Without music, life would be a mistake.”

As for those of us who love it but can't make it, Kurt Cobain once said: "The choice to become a music journalist is usually after one's realisation that they are musically retarded but they've worked at Tower Records and own a lot of CD's and rock biographies." I refute this claim outright: I don't like to brag but I was hailed as 2012's 'Rising Star' at last month's inaugural Irish Musical Spoons Awards; I got fired from HMV after a two-hour shift for trying to eat a box set of Man Vs Food and, as is clearly evident from this column, I am largely illiterate. Luckily, my hearing is fine.


This article was also published on Campus.ie and in Student Independent News, NUI Galway's student newspaper.

Time For An End To Closet Homophobia

Image c/o OutNews.co.uk

SEXUAL ORIENTATION is often viewed as irrelevant in western society, particularly in the eyes of young people. Despite this, sexuality-centred bullying and the use of gay-related derogatory termas are alarmingly common. Is this immature name-calling nothing more than just that or does it signify something more insidious? In Ireland, homosexuality was only decriminalised nineteen years ago. As a nation, do we still hold on to outdated but deep-rooted prejudices or is homophobia a part of our past?

Undoubtedly, this country has come a long way where the issue of gay rights in concerned. Mary McAleese's recent declaration of support for marriage equality will go down as a momentous occasion in Irish history. The former president, who is an active member of the Catholic Church, stated that gay people should be able to live their lives on their own terms and marry if they so choose. "I just think that people have this obsession somehow around sexuality with the idea of sex, forgetting what it is that family and partnership is about - it's about love and being there for another human being," she said.

Ciara Keighron (18) agrees with this stance. "Love is love, it doesn't matter who it's for. You can't say one person's love is better than another's," she says. Ciara is openly gay at college but her family do not know the truth about her sexuality. She cites fear as the main reason for this as "certain members of my family and friends definitely won't accept it". She has not experienced a lot of discrimination in Galway but recalls one particular occasion where a drunk man called her and a friend "f***ing lesbos" on a night out. She feels homophobes should not use alcohol as an excuse to disguise their bigotry as the truth often comes out when people have been drinking. "It's a case of idiots saying things, as opposed to idiots thinking things," she remarks.

Seán Reilly (21) came out two years ago. A close friend of his had actually come out in the months preceding this and he was the first person he told. He began to question his sexuality around the age of 14 but was not comfortable enough to come out while at school. He is a firm believer that our education system is doing a disservice to Irish society by not teaching children more about the various types of sexuality. He also thinks the government need to "remove the barriers" currently stopping gay people from marrying and adopting. "I would like to think that [gay marriage] will be legal by the time I want to marry," he adds.

Kealan Moore (30) would also like marriage and children to feature in his future. He has been sure of his sexuality for some time but did not come out publicly until last year. "I had been struggling with it for years and I tried to come out when I was 18 but, at the time, I just didn't have the proper social structure around me," he says.  Although most people received the news well, his housemate did not and he almost ended up homeless as a result. "You learn that you can't live with certain people," he muses. He admits that coming out can be a huge learning curve for both the person themselves and those close to them.

Ian Power, of youth-centred charity SpunOut, agrees that telling people is not always easy but, if you choose someone you trust, the chances are they will be supportive. "Coming out as LGBT can be a hugely positive experience – a liberating time, when you embrace your sexuality. Whatever your sexual identity, remember it is only one part of your life, so embrace how you are feeling and enjoy being individual," he says.

He believes that Ireland has made significant progress in battling homophobia in the last ten years alone. "Society is much more accepting of LGBT people across all generations. We still have a long way to go and prejudice still exists in dark corners of society and the LGBT community is still fighting for many legal protections and rights which still have not been recognised by the state but my view of Ireland is certainly a positive one," he affirms.

Figures released earlier this month by the Gay and Lesbian Equality Network show that every county in Ireland has now hosted a civil partnership ceremony, with 862 couples entering into such partnerships since they were first legalised in April 2011. A recent 'Sunday Times' poll suggested that 66 per cent of people in Ireland are in favour of same-sex marriage. Sexuality is a single aspect of a multi-dimensional person - it does not define them, nor should it define their rights or the way they are treated. Ireland, it would seem, is now more aware of this fact than ever before. 


This article was also published in Student Independent News, NUI Galway's student newspaper.

Hat's Off: I Post, Therefore I Am

Image c/o GetLucid.net

THE OTHER day I was watching a video online and it was so funny I literally fell off my seat and began to roll on the floor. This was all strange enough until I started to laugh. I laughed to the extent that my ass actually fell off. As you can imagine, I was rather alarmed by this incident. Despite my posterior predicament, in that very moment I couldn't help but wish there was a more succinct way to express what had happened to me.

While I waited in the hospital for my a-hole keyhole surgery, I had a bit of time on my hands and got to thinking about the internet and its effect on us. We now live in the age of so-called 'Digimodernism' (thanks, Alan Kirby), where, for some reason, it's become acceptable - and often expected - to document almost every waking moment of our existence. 

It's a fair enough assumption that one would want to share significant moments in their lives with their family and friends. The meaning of the word 'significant' can vary greatly, however. I can't remember the last time I thought, "Jeez, thank god Karen posted that she just ate a sandwich for lunch. I was beginning to suspect she sourced her energy through photosynthesis. What a fool I feel upon discovering the truth. She is, in fact, not a plant. OMG." Karen's a notorious liar so, in order for people to believe her statement, she also feels the need to upload a photograph of said sandwich. The inclusion of an image was of particular benefit to me as, up until that point, I had never actually seen one before. I mean I knew they were edible but I just assumed it consisted of some sand sprinkled on a potato wedge. The internet really is expanding my horizons.

To be fair, Karen is as innocuous as she is irritating. There are many people who use social networking sites and other online forums for much more malicious reasons. E-bullying and trolling are huge areas of concern both abroad and closer to home - as was elucidated by Leo Traynor's recent encounter with his anti-semetic cyber persecutor. The anonymity shield provided by the internet bestows bravery on pathetic, insecure idiots who have nothing better to do with their time than torment innocent people they've never met and know relatively nothing about.

Online arguments are ten-a-penny and, in the main, entirely harmless - even when one takes Godwin's Law into account. Trolls from 2012 are very different their 1990s namesakes. Although, for all we know, they could well be bulbous, asexual creatures with illuminous spiky hair. Instead of hiding under bridges, they secrete themselves in the bottomless recesses of the internet. They come in all shapes and sizes - at best, they're annoying; at worst, they have the potential to ruin someone's life. They can mock, stalk or ogle an almost infinite number of people. Reddit's 'creepshot' and 'jailbait' sub-forums are paradigms of the latter. This lascivious online behaviour encourages the objectification of women who have often been photographed surreptitiously and many of whom are underage.

The internet connects people in a colossal and unprecedented way - for better or worse. It opens up the entire world for exploration, education and entertainment. It also provides a springboard of unprecedented potential for perverts. As Yeats might say, a terrible beauty is born, photographed, uploaded, tagged, shared, mocked, de-tagged, deleted and posted once more. Once online, always available.

I recently rejoined Facebook for practical reasons following a two and a half year period whereby I was most definitely conspicuous by my absence. Had I died? Been mauled by bears? Returned to my home planet? Without a profile to check, how could anyone possibly know? At one stage there was a somewhat plausible rumour that I never actually existed. I post, therefore I am. I do not post, therefore I am odd.

One can change how they speak and look and, ultimately, who they are when online. I had first-hand experience of this when my South Korean mail-order bride arrived and she was, in fact, a 40 stone guy from Minnesota called Randy to whom I'm now legally bound. I can't complain too much though, we do lol a lot. We're not alone in this regard, either. Initially online abbreviations were for internet use only but now they've infiltrated our spoken vernacular. Many people say the term 'lol' as opposed to actually laughing. I'm sorry but that is just plain weird. So many of us are lolling on a regular basis, Huckleberry Finn would be proud.

If I could pass on one piece of netiquette: the next time you feel the urge to sneeze or wank (verbally or literally) and want to tell the world -  don't. Grab a tissue, not your laptop. FFS. 


This article was also published on Campus.ie and in Student Independent News, NUI Galway's student newspaper.

Ireland's Children: Second Class Citizens?

c/o Barnardos.it

THE ERA of treating Ireland's children as "second class citizens" could and should soon be over. 

This is the view of Fergus Finlay, CEO of Barnardos and long-time children's rights activist, on the upcoming Children's Referendum. Mr Finlay is one of the most vociferous supporters of the referendum.

He feels the constitutional amendment, if ratified, will aid in ending the current situation in Irish society whereby children are often treated as sub-par members of the community. 

He is firmly of the belief that such a referendum is long overdue and he admits to being continually frustrated by "the notion of a society that pays lip service to equality". He made the comments while speaking at NUI Galway this week.

The amendments to the Constitution proposed in the referendum aim to ensure that all children are recognised in their own right; protected from abuse and neglect; and will benefit from equal rights and protections, regardless of the marital status of their parents.

Mr Finlay is all too aware that parental neglect is by no means the only form of abuse faced by children.

He cites the Ryan and Murphy Commissions - both of which dealt with the sexual and physical abuse of children in Ireland at the hands of the Catholic Church - as evidence that the State is "adept at turning a blind eye" to the institutional and systematic abuse of children.

Barnardos, Ireland's leading children's charity, runs over 40 centres in local communities across the country, working with vulnerable children and their families. Their only direct facility for adults is the Barnardos Service for Survivors of Abuse.

The aforementioned reports are not alone in exposing state and institutional corruption. Mr Finlay notes the importance of the media in shining a light on the gross misconduct that permeated so many aspects of Irish culture for a prolonged period. 

He views the work of the late Mary Raftery as a prime example of the huge impact a journalist can have on societal change. Her documentaries for RTÉ - States of Fear (1999) and Cardinal Secrets (2002) - led to the setting up of the aforementioned commissions. In doing so, Mr Finlay feels they aided in bringing the 'kissing the ring' culture in Ireland to a halt, whereby the Government bowed before the Church in an unapologetic and widely unquestioned manner that led to the horrific abuse of approximately 100,000 children.

Barnardos is funded by the state to a "bog standard level", according to Mr Finlay. The organisation bridges the financial gap between the money they receive and the money they need through fundraising. In 2011, they recorded losses of €1.5 million, following a nine per cent decline in donations. Total revenue at the charity fell from €24 million to €23.9 million, while employee costs increased from €16.9 million to €17.1 million.

In a bid to save money, the charity closed all its services and put its staff on unpaid leave for one week last August. Mr Finlay has warned that the funding cuts being imposed across the NGO sector have the potential to do “untold damage” to vulnerable children and families.

It seems quite the juxtaposition that the State is attempting to improve the lives of its children with the referendum while concurrently cutting vital funding for the organisations that aim to end the chronic poverty in which many of them struggle to survive. Unfortunately, it seems likely that some of our young people will remain second class citizens for the foreseeable future.

Royal Breasts - Should We Courtesy?

Image c/o Take 40

BREASTS - you've got to love them. They give us milk, they keep Page 3 girls feed and, er, clothed, and, if you're a member of Cornershop, they provide a convenient pillow when tired. 

Perhaps more importantly than any of these, they sell newspapers and magazines. 

Unless your only contact with the world of publications is a subscription to Toothpick Bulletin, seeing two-dimensional breasts is a regular occurrence.  

Most of us are presented with an array of scantily clad women, and occasionally men, when perusing mainstream media. That doesn't make it right or wrong, merely commonplace. The fact that the public are so desensitised to nudity is a double-edge sword - and, let's face it, no one wants one of those around when naked. 

On a daily basis, you're quite likely to see some class of breast in whatever form of media you digest - pop star boob, actress boob, man boob. Recently, however, there a significant sighting to report - the rarest of all mammary gland creatures: royal boob. 

When topless photographs of England's future queen surfaced in French magazine Closer, not too many Irish eyelids batted. Their subsequent publication in the Irish Daily Star and ramifications of such were an entirely different story. 

The public reaction varied from apathy to anger. The fact that the images of a blissfully unaware Kate Middleton were taken in such a clandestine fashion led many to question the ethics of printing them. Yes, they were freely available online but was there sufficient public interest to publish the photographs in a national daily newspaper? 

It is noteworthy that the only other European publication to have printed the pictures - so far - is Italy's Chi. The magazine, which produced a special edition featuring a 26-page spread of a semi-nude Kate, is owned by Mondadori, the media conglomerate of one Silvio Berlusconi - bastion of all that is good and virtuous.

From an Irish perspective, Richard Desmond's announcement to seek a dissolution of the partnership of his company Northern & Shell and Independent News and Media (joint owners of the Irish Daily Star) was met with widespread shock and condemnation. The fact that the owner of illustrious titles such as The Very Best of Mega Boobs and Spunk Loving Sluts appeared so very horrified by the inclusion of the photos in a newspaper he was associated with would have been laughable were over one hundred Irish jobs not at stake. 

Desmond's reaction could be described as disproportionate. It could also be described as a convenient cover. The contract between Northern & Shell and INM is nearing its end and many commentators believe he has wanted to leave the Irish market for some time and is using this storm in a B cup as his way out. 

When questioned about ethics by the Leveson Inquiry in January of this year, Desmond responded: "Ethical – I don't know what the word means". Apparently, he's become acquainted with a dictionary since then.

In the immediate aftermath of the scandal, the British royal family took the unprecedented step of suing a media outlet over privacy issues, bringing Closer to court. The magazine has been banned from printing further topless photographs of Kate and has been ordered to hand over the original copies of the images and compensate the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge for their legal fees.

It remains to seen as to whether or not the royal couple will take legal action against the Irish Daily Star. For now, its editor Michael O'Kane has been suspended and the rest of the employees' livelihoods hang in the balance. What happens next is anyone's guess.

So, alas, it looks as though we're heading back into another royal nudity drought. Although, we'll always have Harry. God save the third in line.

Hat's Off: School Through A Lens

A look at portrayals of school life in cinema

SO WHAT is it then? A jungle? A meat factory? A playground? No, I'm not attempting to conduct an assessment of your current psychological state by holding up images of randomly arranged ink blots. Although, an ink stain is as good a place as any to start where the topic of education is concerned. With the exception of a few splotches from our parents, the vast majority of us begin our schooling as blank sheets of paper ready to be educated, influenced and drawn all over. That, and we've all had to deal with the dire ramifications of a burst pen in our school bag.  

Personal experiences of the education system vary greatly. Some individuals reach for the rose-tinted glasses while reminiscing of twelve times tables and requesting for permission to go to the toilet. The very phrase "An bhfuil cead agam dul amach go dtí an leithreas más é do thoil é" gets them all giddy with excitement. 

Alternatively, the concept of institutionalised learning can leave many others cold. The way we are treated and educated during our formative years has a colossal impact on the people we become later in life - long after 'big school' enters distant memory territory.

Either viewpoint can become more skewed or, indeed, gain clarity with the passing of time. For aeons, humans have made attempts at deconstructing the school environment - from academia to art. The latter has generally been more successful in this regard, particularly in the field of film. If a picture can paint a thousand words, surely a film is comparable to the back catalogue of an entire library.

In Pink Floyd's seminal 1982 film The Wall, the main protagonist's flashbacks to his childhood recall a conveyer belt view of the British education system. Here the children are homogeneous beings who are mocked and chastised should they dare display any artistic inclinations. They are simply "another brick in the wall". Their misery culminates in becoming overly familiar with an industrial-sized meat grinder. This damning indictment of schooling was largely influenced by Roger Waters' time in an English boarding school in the mid twentieth century. In the boy's fragile mind, it takes a frenzied riot to break down the wall of oppression created by a suffocating school system that forbids freedom of expression. The idea that curriculum and creativity are akin to oil and water has long been bandied about. This situation has certainly improved in schools in the last thirty years but 'art' in any form still stands on a much lower rung of the educational ladder than more traditional subjects such as maths and science.

Three years after the release of The Wall, John Hughes' The Breakfast Club redefined the genre of American high school based films. Five living, breathing stereotypes find themselves unexpectedly in each other's company in a Saturday session of detention. The group are labelled "a brain, a beauty, a jock, a rebel and a recluse" and, for all intents and purposes, their personalities are presumed to delve no deeper. Each student possesses rather misplaced preconceptions regarding their companions. As their day together unfolds they begin to talk and, more importantly, listen to each other. Although coming from five radically diverse social groupings, the gang come to release they are much more alike that previously assumed and bond over shared interests and fears.

The issue of cliques is also examined in Tina Fey's insightful dissection of social schooling, 2004's Mean Girls. The film's central character finds it difficult to adjust to life in an American high school following her family's move from the African bush. The previously home-schooled Cady isn't emotionally or mentally prepared for the unwritten social rules that she must quickly learn to abide by in the complex world of twentieth first century teenage girls. She soon discovers that life in second level education is not entirely unlike life in the jungle - in fact, it's a lot less straightforward. A hierarchy exists in both settings but psychological warfare is evidently more prevalent in the former. Over time, Cady is forced to become au fait with concepts such as 'social suicide', miscommunication, back-stabbing and, ultimately, reconciliation. The film's exploration of the pressures placed on adolescents, particularly young women, as a result of skewed societal norms is really quite fascinating.

In school, as in life, we often pre-judge our contemporaries, superiors and, indeed, subordinates. The favour is, more often than not, returned. Perhaps there are more lessons to be learned from our celluloid syllabus, and each other, than first impressions would lead us to believe. 


This article was also published in Student Independent News, NUI Galway's student newspaper.