Gavan Reilly

A piece I wrote for today’s University Observer on Seanad reform and why getting rid of the Seanad, as per Enda Kenny’s proposal, is a myopic and short-term solution to a longer-term problem…

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Let’s be clear from the off: Seanad Éireann is an imperfect institution. It is little more than a political car park for those postponing the inevitable decline into retirement; a breeding ground for a political party’s new hopes, trying to blood their new meat in the life of Leinster House before the savagery of the Dáil floor; and a consolation prize for those who came close-ish to winning a seat in the lower house in the previous election.

Its work is limited; its relative power to put a stop to legislation is nil; its members largely wish they were elsewhere. It’s a morose place where the good go to die and the young come to roar, all just to get a few minutes’ token coverage on Oireachtas Report three times a week for their trouble.

With the Seanad being the almost entirely useless entity it has become, it was prudent for Enda Kenny to take a stab (almost literally) last week by proposing its abolition, saving the taxpayer about €25m per year, as part of an Oireachtas reform package that would also see the number of TDs cut by about 20 per cent. The country has grown frustrated with a body that it sees as nepotistic and ineffective, and Kenny needed to be seen as proactive in tackling what is, legitimately, a high-profile waste of exchequer money.

The abolition of a house of parliament is a big choice to make, and one that here, at least, would require a referendum of undoubted painstakingness equal to a Lisbon. Process aside, it’s also a fundamental amendment to the operation of a parliamentary democracy. What Enda Kenny seems to have overlooked, however, is that the Seanad can easily be reformed into a body that works, without necessarily triggering any political seachanges.

The Seanad, in its current form, was established by de Valera’s new Constitution in 1937, with its makeup inspired by Catholic social teaching of the times, led by Pope Pius XI and his visions of social order being based on the co-operation of vocational groups (a system that can be likened to the modern notion of social partnership). With this in mind, the Constitution established five Vocational Panels, with the prevailing logic being that nominees would have special experience or knowledge of one of the five topics, thus becoming eligible for election to that panel. So, for example, those with knowledge or experience in the business world would be elected to the Industrial and Commercial Panel.

The overall aim was that while the directly elected Dáil would remain – as all lower houses are – a political playground, the Seanad would be able to meditate on the nitty-gritty of applying the Dáil’s legislation in the real world, and transcend the relatively lowly bickering of a party political system.

In the seventy-odd intervening years, though, the Seanad hasn’t worked out quite as planned. Because the members of the five Vocational Panels are elected by members of the country’s town and county councils, the elections have become purely party political, with councillors from a political party voting along their own party lines so that the Seanad ultimately mirrors the political constitution of Ireland’s local government.

Another provision allowing for six members to be elected by graduates of Ireland’s two universities (at the time), the University of Dublin – comprised solely of Trinity College – and the National University of Ireland, including UCD, has fallen flat over the course of history. Ireland has seen newer universities formed in the meantime, and despite a referendum allowing the law to be amended to the contrary, the graduates of these colleges have not yet been offered a vote – creating the valid perception that the authority of the Seanad, like its membership, is limited to a minority of society.

While abolition of the Seanad would solve both of these problems, realistically Enda Kenny’s better legacy would be to reform the Seanad in a meaningful way that allows it to best fulfil the intent of the Constitution. An easy start would be to propose the legislation the Constitution already allows for: a law allowing the graduates of other third-level institutions to vote in the university constituencies.

It’s not as if the Seanad hasn’t come up with enough ideas on how to make itself more useful: no fewer than twelve reports on reform have been published over its lifetime. Indeed, only five years ago one of its own subcommittees recommended the abolition of the Panels, opening up nearly half of the seats to direct public elections, and that the eleven seats filled by the Taoiseach’s own appointees be more reflective of the Republic’s role in Northern Ireland, rather than – as present – being merely used to pad out the Government’s majority in the upper house.

The public, however, shouldn’t be surprised if Enda Kenny changes his tune should he somehow manage to lose the next election; he’ll find that due to his party’s victory in the local elections last June, his party will be in the majority in the Seanad irrespective of the nominees of an opposing Taoiseach. In that light, don’t expect the referendum to come any time soon.

8pm on a Wednesday evening, Champions League on the telly, and I’m at home, sat on the sofa with the crumbs of a pizza (thanks Cat) on a plate to my right. Average as it sounds, this is an idle evening of relative luxury – if I’m honest, it’s the first evening I can remember for a couple of weeks where I made it home during daylight hours, even if it was dwindling away as I got off the bus and crossed the street for home.

Two issues down.

For the last month I’ve been (an active, unlike the previous two months of my tenure) Deputy Editor at The University Observer. It’s been, to say the least, an all-hours kind of job. You’re in early, you work hard (often more physically than you think), you keep constructive during the idle periods, and when the production weekends come around every fortnight you eat shite takeaway food and run yourself emotionally, psychologically, physically into the ground. You invest everything into it; you preen over every single spelling and every choice of words, you watch out for an opportunity to use a thesaurus, you obsess over making sure you have everything laid out properly, throw together emergency news analysis pieces that in the light of day you probably wouldn’t use as toilet paper, and nitpick over the tiniest things. You drive yourself slowly mad, work yourself into semi-permanent crankiness (sorry, Ci, I know I’m shit this weather), and you leave the office at 5am to get home so that you can wake up early and be back in for noon so that you can start all over again. And when you have a rare evening where there’s nothing much to do and you can let yourself off the hook, you come home and distract yourself from the football by blogging about it.

But then it comes back from the printers, compact and glorious, and you sweat buckets shoving it around in trolleyloads across a 355-acre campus, and you see people pick it up and start pointing at pieces, drawing each others’ attention to the content.

And it’s then that the whole thing is worth it and you start to smile, knowing that that‘s why you do it; that’s why you took the job that pays a third of the minimum wage and demands everything, because it’s a labour of love that’s totally vindicated the second you see someone pick one up and take a look.

I can honestly say – with all the stuff I’ve gotten involved in in UCD, and Christ knows there’s been a lot of it – that I’ve never felt as rewarded or as spiritually fed as I do at the Observer. It’s tough but the connectivity you have and the privilege and duty (in equal parts) you have to share what’s happening with the people who it affects is proper chicken soup for a pale, bleary-eyed journo-kid’s soul.

And so it begins again. Tomorrow we have a news meeting and I’m doing an interview for the centre piece of the otwo magazine; Friday night I might have to tip in to Tolka Park to see if the soccer team can get a result at Shelbourne and keep up their chances of promotion back to the League of Ireland Premier Division, and Saturday… well, on Saturday I’ll probably be glued to a telly, or more likely a computer screen, seeing if the Lisbon opinion poll of UCD students that I spent two days doing last week bears any resemblance to the will of the nation.

Two down. Four ’til Christmas. And on it goes.

I tried to write a colour piece for The University Observer about reading the entirety of the consolidated treaties on European Union, as amended by the Lisbon Treaty. I failed, but hereby post my attempt, as a warning to those who may heed it.

There are two things you don’t want people to see you making – laws and sausages.

13.45
Open the PDF containing the treaties-to-be – instead of reading about the changes Lisbon would make, Shudder to see the document extending to 479 pages. Wonder if I should abandon the idea altogether and ask the Editor if she’ll consider accepting 500 words on something less barbarian, like why the EU flag should have orange stars on green, or how the euro has made shopping online (and running up enormous credit card debt) easier than failing an advanced module in astrophysics.

13.57
Heartened to discover that the first seventeen pages are merely contents, and that the real content – a preamble – is padded out by naming the full title of each member state. I notice that the member states declare a desire “to establish a citizenship common to nationals of their countries” and wonder what implications that’s meant to have. Ireland, at the fringes of Europe, has a much different view of ‘Europeanism’ than those who live twenty minutes’ drive from another culture or language. Isn’t the notion of a ‘nation’ meant to be that we share common beliefs and goals? Perhaps I’m reading too much into it, and that the only implication is having to pay another €80 for a second passport.

14.04
Article 3: The Union’s basic aim. “To promote peace, its values and the well-being of its peoples.” I look at the values: “respect for human dignity, freedom, democracy, equality, the rule of law and respect for human rights, including the rights of persons belonging to minorities.” Seems fair enough – what’s not to like?

14.08
I decide that this will be easier to finish if I put on the most epic classical music I can find. ‘Jupiter’ from Holst’s Planets should do the trick.

14.11
“In its relations with the wider world, the Union shall uphold and promote its values and interests and contribute to the protection of its citizens.” One of Lisbon’s most controversial aspects is the appointment of a full-time ‘High Representative of the Union for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy’, apparently in response to Henry Kissinger’s famous quip, “Who do I call if I want to call Europe?” I wonder if anyone has ever posed the same question for Asia or Africa – or, indeed, for South America. Why would anyone want to ask a continent for its opinion? America would be upset if someone called Canada looking for the North American stance on an international hot topic, so why should European countries be treated any differently? The problem with Kissinger’s question isn’t the lack of an answer; it’s the absurdity of the question itself. Having a spokesperson on behalf of a group of countries as wildly diverse as Europe’s seems, in this light, to be a little too authoritative.
My worries are not at all placated by Article 8: “The Union shall develop a special relationship with neighbouring countries.” The hypocrisy of some residents’ groups in not seeking residents’ input springs to mind.

14.24
Lunch.

15.24
Abounded by caffeine, I get back at it. “The institutions shall, by appropriate means, give citizens and representative associations the opportunity to make known and publicly exchange their views in all areas of Union action”, says Article 11. No problem there – the issue with Europe is that it’s predominantly run by unelected people. But, then again, so are our own Departments here.

I then meet the new rule about public petitions: “Not less than one million citizens who are nationals of a significant number of Member States may take the initiative of inviting the European Commission, within the framework of its powers, to submit any appropriate proposal on matters where citizens consider that a legal act of the Union is required for the purpose of implementing the Treaties.” This seems to go against the public statements of pro-Lisbon groups, who are commending this concept on the basis that ordinary citizens can now petition the Union to act on matters apparently of their own choosing, when in reality they can only direct the Union on how best to enact the powers it already has.

16.32
Having been distracted by other more important duties – that cupcake wasn’t going to eat itself – I return and meet a paragraph outlining the roles of national parliaments. This is a welcome inclusion; previously the national parliament had no major input in overseeing legislation that ultimately supersedes its own.

16.37
The treaty outlines the organs of the Union and the role of President of the European Council. This person shall, apparently, “ensure the external representation of the Union on issues concerning its common foreign and security policy”. Again, Kissinger dictates policy, it seems.
The pages that follow are largely hollow and devoid of much controversy, although it would seem that when appointing members of the European Commission, final appointments are now the remit of the President of the Commission and, strictly speaking, any country’s recommend appointee can be turned down. Every country might still retain their Commissioner, based on the recent declarations, but they might not get to pick exactly who they want.

16.47
The roles of the Parliament, Commission, and the aforementioned High Representative are outlined. Yadda yadda.

16.53
Article 20. “Member States which wish to establish enhanced cooperation between themselves within the framework of the Union’s non-exclusive competences may make use of its institutions and exercise those competences by applying the relevant provisions of the Treaties…” Wait. If two states – let’s say Ireland and the UK – want to make agreements regarding powers the Union doesn’t totally hold, they have to do so under the Union’s terms? Understandable to a degree, but a very odd provision.

I realise that I am only on page 39 – and the first twenty pages had no content. Eek.

16.59
Quits.

My first piece for Back Page Football, a new football site edited by Kevin Coleman. Ch-ch-check it out.

The year is 2020. The UEFA Super Champions Europa League Cup final (second leg) is just about to kickoff, and fans all over the world are breathing a weary sigh as Roy Keane’s Ipswich Town kick off against Red Bull Salzburg, with an 8-1 win in the away leg rendering club football’s greatest fixture totally and utterly redundant. What’s the point of playing this competition, wonder the fans, if the big teams when the tournament was conceived aren’t even in existence any more? Why bother taking part when Real Madrid aren’t around to try and win a tenth title, or if there’s no Man United/AC Milan/Bayern Munich/Barcelona to light up the tournament?

Except, of course, the year is not 2020, and UEFA haven’t thrown all of their tournaments together into one giant money-spinning football orgy. (Yet.) But wild as it might seem, the notion of football’s leading lights universally folding and leaving expensive, empty stadia, waiting to be demolished into boutique apartment blocks, and destroying the worldwide heritage of the Beautiful Game isn’t all that fanciful. We, in the summer of 2009, are witnessing the beginning of the end. The devil is a Spaniard, and he’s elected.

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Yesterday’s GAA calendar:
2 x GAA Football All-Ireland Senior Championship Round 4 qualifier games
1 x GAA Football All-Ireland Senior Championship Round 3 qualifier game

2 x GAA Hurling All-Ireland Senior Championship Relegation semi-finals
2 x GAA Hurling All-Ireland Senior Championship Relegation quarter-finals

Yup. Three big football games, dominating the day, with two minor hurling matches and two predictable hurling relegation playoffs buffering coverage for the small stick.

So.

Today’s Sunday Tribune GAA coverage: [across 5 pages]
1/3rd page – Hurling Relegation semi-final coverage (one game)
1 and 1/3rd page – Football previews/analysis
2 pages – Hurling previews/analysis (including two minor quarter-finals)

Total senior football matches: three. Total mentions or references (of any sort!) to them: zero.
Total senior hurling matches: two. Total mentions or references: one.
Total minor hurling matches: two. Total mentions: two.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m a big fan of the Sunday Tribune and specifically its sports coverage. The Sports Editor PJ Cunningham was, in his day, a tremendous sports columnist for the Indo and the Tribune‘s sports coverage has always been nothing short of top-notch – the Mad About Sport magazine that fell victim to falling circulation will be missed. But when there’s seven big matches on and your paper only gives any coverage (I’m not joking, there isn’t even a pinch of a mention for the other games) to the three least prominent games, you have to wonder whether the mainstream media’s excuse of online erosion is really the reason they’re all going under.