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• Gladwell and Minister Harney

  April 28, 2010 @ 11:55 pm | by Bryan

  I really like Malcolm Gladwell. I had the privilege of listening to him speak when UCD hosted the writer a little over a year ago. On that occasion, he even kindly answered a question I put before him as he signed my copy of Outliers. Days later, while reading the book, I remember disagreeing with something he had written (the first and only time that I’ve seriously disagreed with Gladwell). Mixed in with stories about Mozart, Steve Jobs, and Korean pilots, while defending his 10 000 hour thesis, Gladwell makes the case for charter schools.

  Charter schools seem to me to be a particularly American solution to poverty. A testimony to the mastery of the market, they demonstrate what can be accomplished given the right incentives. Typically, inner-city American children fall behind their better-off cohorts academically. The root problem is that social issues keep these children from devoting as much time to their studies as others. Charter schools therefore start early in the morning and end late in the day. They also offer shorter vacations since they aim to keep their pupils in active learning for as long as possible. The idea is that if these children are in school for a sufficient period of time, they will cover as much ground as children in better social circumstances and will therefore be more likely to succeed academically. And they do just that, making the schools very popular in poor areas, despite being almost cruelly taxing on their pupils.

  I don’t like the idea of charter schools. An old paediatrician once called me a bleeding heart liberal, but on this issue, I think we would agree. Charter schools, in my opinion, treat the symptom rather than the underlying pathology. If poverty is the issue, I don’t see how allowing a few to keep up academically can be thought of as anything but a temporary bandage. Reading Gladwell hold up this bandage as a potential solution makes me more than a little uncomfortable.

  That same feeling was evoked in me by the minister for health, who wrote:

  …The critical question is how we use all resources, particularly public resources, to help people stay healthy and to get best outcomes for patients from healthcare…

  …It’s a critical question for all developed countries because the hospitalisation model of healthcare is financially unsustainable…

  …I invite people to recognise that it’s more important how money is spent than how it is raised from the public…

  …Our policy is equity of access to publicly-funded health services. We are open to using all providers who meet quality and value for money standards to contribute to public services…

  A comparison between Gladwell and Minister Harney isn’t quite fair. I generally tend to agree with the former while I mostly disagree with the latter. I just don’t share her faith in the market. Gladwell believes in charter schools because he believes that if you spend long enough at something (10 000 hours), you’ll do well at it given some aptitude. Minister Harney on the other hand, from what I can gather, believes in the market.

  But even before we get to the question of service delivery, an important question must be answered. What does ‘equity of access to publicly-funded health services’ mean? We can even simplify that. What is equity? Does it mean that people get what they pay for, such that those who are willing to pay extra are entitled to more or better or faster services? Does it mean that absolutely no distinctions should be drawn between patients, so that regardless of one’s ability to pay, or how expensive one’s treatment may be, each will be treated ‘equally’? Or does it mean that each citizen will be allocated a fixed sum of money, health credits so to speak, and will be entitled only to their fair share such that when those credits run out, they are no longer eligible for state health services? Or that the state’s health services will be structured so as to serve the greatest number; meaning that those whose ailments are expensive to treat will have to access their healthcare elsewhere?

  And what about the suggestion that ‘the hospitalisation model of healthcare is financially unsustainable’? Isn’t it only unsustainable if one holds to a certain set of values? The Cubans (I know, this example is well worn now), seem to value healthcare above modern consumer goods. I imagine that the idea that the hospitalisation model is unsustainable, on a budget of €15 billion, when far greater sums can be found to prop up the financial services sector, would make no sense to them.

  Doesn’t the question of what is or isn’t financially sustainable then really rest on what we take as our foundational principles? Isn’t the same true of what we mean by the word ‘equitable’?

  I suppose what worries me most about the minister’s article isn’t so much the matter of our ideological differences, or my fear that, as Dr Christine O’Malley suggested on radio today, the subtext is a desire to privatise health. No, the real worry for me is that we make Gladwell’s mistake and fight over which bandage to apply rather than engaging in debate over the real underlying issue. What are our views on justice? What does equity look like? Who should get what and why?

  The only way €15 billion isn’t enough to sustain the health of less than 5 million people is when there is an attempt to throw money at the issue instead of directly addressing those difficult core issues.

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• Reflections on Sr. Ncube and Dan Boyle

  February 22, 2010 @ 4:08 pm | by Bryan

  I had the pleasure of listening to broadcaster Eamon Dunphy have a go at Green Party chairman Dan Boyle on radio last week. The Greens, Dunphy contended, have sold out. Not only has the party that was elected on the back of promises to change the prevailing political culture learnt to live with it, Dunphy alleged that the same party now actively legitimises that culture by keeping their government partners in office. For his part, Boyle seemed to concede quite a bit to Dunphy. He mumbled something about being pragmatic, change being slow, the Green party being an unusual kind of political animal that can survive outside the Dáil if need be, and so forth. But for all of that, it sounded to me like Boyle, at some level, agreed with Dunphy.

  That radio exchange reminded me of South Africa’s 1996 parliamentary vote on the Termination of Pregnancy Bill. The ruling ANC wanted to enact legislation allowing, among other things, pregnant women of less than 12 weeks gestation access to a medical abortion. To ensure that this legislation was passed, the party refused its parliamentarians the option of voting their conscience, except in some specific circumstances. Commenting on that decision, party whip Geoff Doidge said, “I’ve been taught that abortion is wrong. But I am in Parliament as an ANC MP. People voted in 1994 for the ANC, not for Geoff Doidge. I’m not there as a Catholic MP, but as an ANC MP. In terms of that I must follow party discipline.” Catholic nun and fellow ANC member, Sister Ncube, obviously agreed with Doidge. She voted for the bill.

  I’m not sure how much distance there is between a member of a political party, like Sr. Ncube, and the junior partner in a coalition government. In the same way that Ncube relied on the ANC for whatever power she had to act on behalf of her constituents, Dan Boyle and the rest of the Greens seem to think they need Fianna Fáil to make Ireland a greener nation. I’m not sure if that is the result of political immaturity, or if that is just the nature of coalition and compromise. Could the Greens have got more from their government partners, or is it just the nature of political engagement that the weaker gradually morphs into something very much like the stronger?

  Should the likes of Sr Ncube and the Green Party even get into politics? I’m not questioning whether or not they should be involved with the political process or whether they should try to see certain laws passed or otherwise. But I can’t help but wonder if membership of a political party requires a type of political ‘agnosticism’. People who don’t believe in anything, at least not passionately, and not publicly, aren’t going to have to juggle their political roles with their activist ones. Maybe politicians should be like civil servants – bureaucrats who submit their own predilections for the will of ‘the people’?

  And maybe that’s why Fianna Fáil have been so successful. They are a little like your bland bureaucrat who won’t let ideology or values get in the way of things; who is happy to do whatever you ask of her, within reason. And maybe that’s why substantively, there is very little between the mainstream parties. Maybe they all realise that elected office is no place for believers; that those who enter will be stripped of those beliefs?

  Scripture asks, “What shall it profit a man, if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul?” Similarly, my question for Boyle, Ncube and other like them is this: is political power worth attaining if attaining it means compromising things that are fundamental to who you are?

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• Indifferent

  February 19, 2010 @ 5:53 pm | by Bryan

  

  Maybe it’s just me. Maybe being enveloped in a wave of indifference when all sorts of exciting things are happening in the political world is a natural response to sharing a room with an infant with no respect for the sanctity of sleep. Then again, I did resolve not to bug out, or to be taken by buggin’ out this year.

  I almost feel sorry for the now former minister of defence. Others have done worse at better times and have escaped unscathed. Were Mr O’Dea’s fate the first fruits of a new ethical season in political circles, there would be something to celebrate. As things stand, all that has happened is that the opposition’s sustained pressure on the coalition government’s junior partner has necessitated some blood letting, and O’Dea happened to be in the firing line at the wrong time.

  But what has changed? Cabinet ministers will watch what they say in front of journalists. O’Dea has the good fortune of not having to be on the forefront of what must be the mammoth task of helping his political party claw its way back up into contention for the next election; not to mention the responsibilities of running a government ministry. The Greens will keep trying to pretend that they still bear some resemblance to the activists who entered government two and a half years ago, all the while morphing more rapidly into an entity very much like their new big brother. And most of the electorate will, after complaining very bitterly about how the country is being run, remain largely indifferent to issues of governance; few will be moved enough to act, change or do something else. All of these things can be summarised in the words of a caller on RTE Radio 1’s Liveline this afternoon, who expressed disgust at O’Dea’s resignation. He said words to the effect of, ‘We need men of action in government. Why did they make Willie O’Dea resign? It’s like they’re trying to turn us into Sweden, expecting things to happen properly here!’

  I’m sure many people would like this country to resemble Sweden a little more, but I’m not sure we make the connection made by that caller. Replacing personalities, be they the minister of defence, the Taoiseach, or the entire government, won’t change a country. Only changing its culture will do that. Yesterday’s resignation and the events which precipitated it were in keeping with our political culture. Hence my indifference.

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• Michael v Mary

  February 17, 2010 @ 11:06 pm | by Bryan

  

  Tánaiste Mary Coughlan makes a phone call in her office following her meeting last night with Ryanair chief executive Michael O’Leary. Photograph: Matt Kavanagh.

  The spat between the Tánaiste and Ryanair CEO Michael O’Leary is fascinating. It begs the question, who is more powerful, a bunch of elected politicians, or a businessman with the capacity to create lots of jobs?

  Granted, the playing field is uneven in that we are in a recession and jobs count for a whole lot more than they normally would. Also, there isn’t very much goodwill towards politicians right now. So maybe it’s wrong to read too much into the fact that, from what I can tell, the consensus is that O’Leary is right and the government is made up of ditherers who either don’t care enough, or are too incompetent to get a handle on the jobs situation.

  I come to this issue with my own bias. I think the market dictates the range of options available to politicians. The market in my opinion, is really just the interests of those in society with the most capital. Simply put, while the likes of the Tánaiste get fancy titles and all sorts of administrative responsibilities, people like O’Leary are the ones who really run things.

  But maybe I’m wrong. If Michael O’Leary was really that powerful, he probably wouldn’t have had to take his beef with Mary Coughlan into the public realm. He’s thrashing her there, but maybe the fact that there’s even a fight means that the O’Learys of this world aren’t quite as powerful as I thought?

  …unless of course this spat precipitates the fall of the government. The rest of the political establishment is well and truly behind O’Leary in this matter. The ability to replace a government with like-minded politicians would be a most impressive display.

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• Why isn’t George Lee a hero?

  February 9, 2010 @ 10:25 pm | by Bryan

  

  George Lee speaking outside Leinster House yesterday, following his resignation from both the Dáil and Fine Gael. Photograph: Eric Luke.

  It pains me to think of myself as jumping onto the George Lee bandwagon, but jump on it I shall. Actually, I’m not really jumping on the bandwagon. I don’t have very much to add to the matter in terms of socio-political analysis or insight. All I have is a question. Simply, why isn’t the guy a hero?

  The ‘I went into politics to serve my country/so that I could look my grandkids in the eye’ was a bit much. It sounded like a politician doing what just about all politicians do – trying to look better than they really are. And let’s face it, a celebrity economist is no more likely to know how to sort out the country’s economic difficulties than all the other economists advising and working within the political process. In that respect, I can understand why so many people feel that Lee should have behaved like other elected officials and just got on with the job he signed up for, regardless of how difficult it may have been to get his ideas across.

  Still, here is an individual who, having spent less than a year on the job, has decided that the main opposition party just isn’t serious, and is walking away. Call it throwing toys out of a cot if you want, but I’m really impressed. Non-compliance with systems and institutions that don’t work is, in my opinion, very definitely the way to go. Which is why I’m confused. The average person distrusts most politicians, the political establishment and its culture. Yet when a George Lee rejects that culture, when he decides that it is better to walk away from it all than to continue to legitimate it, to perpetuate the idea that the slogans, speeches and images that go around at election time bear any resemblance to the reality of post-election political life, he is accused of being a mollycoddled, cowardly civil servant. All of a sudden, the status quo politicians are rugged, powerful, stouthearted Greek gods, while Lee and others of his ilk, most notably (for some reason) civil servants, are pathetic specimens who don’t belong anywhere near the reigns of public office.

  In Understanding Power, Noam Chomsky suggests that a rough environment will produce a rough political class because only they will be able to survive and hang around long enough to make it to the top. That’s not to imply that Ireland necessarily has a ‘rough’ political climate, but it obviously has one which is not conducive to the likes of Lee. And maybe that explains why so many incredibly able people here shun politics as a profession.

  Which brings me back to my initial question: why isn’t Lee a hero? Why, at the very least, isn’t the country panicked? If his election in any way represented a desire to see capable people from outside the political class given the opportunity to help sort out the country, why isn’t his failure to do that ominous? Doesn’t it mean that only the sort of person who can accommodate or tolerate the political system as it currently stands can hold elected office for any significant period of time?

  Turning on Lee, from where I stand, looks like an endorsement by the ruled, of the idea that they don’t belong in their rulers’ courts.

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• Obama a year on

  January 21, 2010 @ 5:09 pm | by Bryan

  

  A year ago I wrote the following:

  …I think Obama’s role is largely symbolic … I think the biggest ‘thing’ he gives his nation and the rest of the world is a sense of hope and possibility. Having lived in places where hope literally sustains people, I would be the last person to belittle the importance of that quality… Tied in to that hope, I think he inspires people to strive for more and better. Again, you can’t quantify the importance of that. But even I, an unashamed Obama fan, have begun to feel that the level of expectation on him in some quarters has gone way beyond the ridiculous.

  It has only been twelve months, but things have changed dramatically. I’m not an Obama fan anymore, and I certainly don’t think that he inspires universal hope. As for ‘Yes We Can’, I personally feel betrayed.

  Why betrayed? Barack Obama ran as more than just a ‘change candidate’. He ran as a man who wanted to ‘transcend politics’; an ordinary human being in high political office. The idea was that the political process in the United States would be simplified, and ordinary people would get to dictate to government and the political establishment, not the other way around – government of the people, for the people, and all of that. I think that’s what galvanised so many people: the idea that the masses would get to call the shots. That of course, hasn’t happened.

  The example that most stands out is the so-called healthcare debate. Even before the ‘debate’ was opened to people, a settlement was supposedly reached with the health insurance industry. A pragmatic move? Maybe, but to then characterise the so-called healthcare reform as a means of ‘sticking it to the man’ was deceitful. And having begun with the health insurance industry in mind, is it any wonder that word of bill being successfully passed resulted in stock-market gains for those same companies? Worst of all, the closest that the public – the ‘we’ in ‘Yes We Can’ – came to a crafting their own healthcare legislation, was being campaigned to by politicians with their own ideas about how to go about things. Not exactly rule of and for the people.

  According to today’s editorial:
  The constant management of expectations, the brokering of compromise after compromise in Congress over health, the recommitment to the war in Afghanistan, the deferral of action on jobs while bankers were “rescued”, and delays in closing Guantánamo, have contributed to [President Obama’s] gradual alienation from his Democratic base.

  True, but more than those things, I think it is the feeling that though he may be a decent man with good intentions, the president is still at heart a politician in the mould of other politicians. His decine in popularity has to do with the fact that there will be no earthshaking change under his tenure, that as things stand, really, ‘we can’t’.

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• The war crimes trial gimmick

  October 27, 2009 @ 12:15 pm | by Bryan

  

  Radovan Karadzic supporters drink and play gusle, a traditional instrument, in a bar in New Belgrade, Serbia, yesterday. Photographs: Amel Emric, Srdjan Ilic/AP.

  Former Bosnian Serb leader, Radovan Karadzic, brought proceedings in the Hague to a standstill yesterday. He decided not to attend the opening of his genocide trial, claiming that he was unprepared. Karadzic is representing himself and the trial couldn’t go on without defence counsel. Big anticlimax.

  But maybe that’s the problem. These big war crime trials bear a striking resemblance to what I can only imagine medieval public executions looked like. I’m not sure how much they have to do with justice as opposed to public retribution. It’s as though the ‘international community’ needs to demonstrate, as visually as possible, that ‘international justice’ really exists and really works, and that – to quote a former US president who had a way with words – ‘evildoers’ really get their comeuppance in the end. I’m not sure.

  I don’t like Karadzic and what he represents. I think the people responsible for acts like Srebrenica make an incredibly strong case for capital punishment. At the very least, they should be tried quickly and if found guilty, locked away somewhere for good. But I also think that the likes of Karadzic, Slobodan Miloševic before him, and Saddam Hussein are right when they say that these genocide trials are gimmicky public spectacles rather than genuine attempts at delivering justice. Were justice the real aim, Karadzic apprehension would not have been the result of a political settlement nor would the massacre of thousands be attributed to just a handful of suitable villains. Also, assuming that justice is blind, the criteria for who counts as a war criminal would be less selective and less dependent on political considerations.

  Still, Case No. IT-95-5/18-PT will eventually get underway. If he doesn’t inconveniently die during the process (like Milosevic), Karadzic will almost certainly be found guilty of something serious – crimes against humanity, violations of the laws of war, something. Some will celebrate the decision as a mark of progress. Others will hold their former leader up as a martyr. The news cycle will roll on. But I’m not sure very much substantive justice will have been done.

  Maybe this is why the African Union don’t want the International Criminal Court getting involved with the situation in Sudan or Uganda.

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• Belfast

  October 13, 2009 @ 9:58 am | by Bryan

  

  Last week, I moved to Belfast to study at Queen’s. Before that, my only other experience of the North had been a two day field-trip to Derry (I’m always amused by the politics of that city’s name – Derry or Londonderry depending on one’s political persuasion). To be honest, I was a little apprehensive.

  Let’s face it, the only time Northern Ireland gets any significant airtime or column inches in the Republic’s media is when something bad has happened. Someone has been shot, some group has threatened to take up arms, or some minorities are being abused. I suppose we could also throw in Bertie, or now Brian Cowen going over to meet someone, with that cordial meeting being taken as a sign of progress. But that just adds to the negative stereotype. How bad must a place be if having a cup of tea and a quiet chat with some of its leaders is seen as a sign of significant progress?

  It was with this baggage that I arrived in Belfast, only to be surprised by how normal a place it is. Granted, I spend almost all of my time in and around the university, but still… Belfast comes across as a perfectly normal place. It even seems like a pretty friendly place; much friendlier, in fact, than some parts of the South.

  In the short space of time that I’ve been here, only two things have alluded to its past. The first was an enlightening conversation with a retired PSNI (police) officer. I would share parts of it, but he seemed like the kind of person that could make me disappear, so I won’t. The other was Hillary Clinton’s visit. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a concentration of armed people in bullet-proof vests in one place. And other than on TV, I had never seen police-officers on roof-tops monitoring events on the ground below. The atmosphere was festive, and when the US Secretary of State’s motorcade drove past, most people waved and cheered. Still, it wasn’t too hard to imagine a time when that kind of police presence would have been accompanied by a very different mood.

  Hopefully, by the end of my year in Belfast, I’ll understand the significance of statements like ‘The INLA has ended its armed struggle’ (I didn’t realise that there was still an armed struggle on). More fundamentally, since from what I can tell people here don’t discuss their politics or religion publicly, I’m curious about how Protestants and Catholics tell each other apart on the streets. I’d also like to know where the demographic known on official forms here as ‘belonging to neither the Catholic nor Protestant community’ fits in to the general scheme of things.

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• Nobel Peace Prize

  October 11, 2009 @ 3:22 pm | by Bryan

  Having thought about it for a couple of days, I still think the Nobel Committee made a mistake.

  Disclaimer: I’m a huge fan of Barack Obama. I’m critical of his foreign policy because thus far, I’m not convinced that it is substantively different from that of his predecessors. That said, his methods are very different from those of people like Dick Cheney, and that in itself is admirable. But does that stylistic difference warrant a Nobel Peace Prize?

  At the end of the day, hasn’t the Nobel Committee set the bar for American heads of states ridiculously low? Their stated reason for awarding Obama the prize was,

  …his extraordinary efforts to strengthen international diplomacy and cooperation between peoples. The Committee has attached special importance to Obama’s vision of and work for a world without nuclear weapons.

  There’s a good chance that I’m just uniformed, but which ‘efforts to strengthen international diplomacy and cooperation’ are they talking about? Is that a reference to the speeches the American president has made to the non-American world? He has been extremely conciliatory and his approach has been a huge departure from that of the Bush, but again, the words that come to mind are ‘low standards’. Effectively apologising for the bad behaviour of the past eight years shouldn’t warrant a Nobel Peace Prize, should it? A smile, a hug, a ‘welcome back’ party, sure, but a Peace Prize?

  And what happens if he sends in more troops to Afghanistan? What if things with Iran don’t get resolved and the Americans decide that since they’re already in the neighbourhood, they might as well bomb and then occupy another gulf state? Or, what happens if in his second term he sorts out the Middle East and plays the decisive role in establishing a viable Palestinian state that has good relations with Israel? He has already won the Nobel Peace Prize, what do you give him if he goes on to accomplish really big things? A super-Nobel?

  What I don’t get is why the Nobel Committee was so impatient? Like many, I think Barack Obama will leave his country in a better state than when he took office. I think he may even do some truly great things, domestically and internationally, while in office. But because I think that, I personally wouldn’t have given him that kind of award before he has had a chance to do those things. What was the committee afraid off? That he go and mess things up by finding some war to start or worming out of the closure of Guantánamo?

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• Silvio … again.

  September 29, 2009 @ 1:54 pm | by Bryan

  

  US president Barack Obama and his wife Michelle welcome Italian prime minister Silvio Berlusconi to the welcoming dinner for G20 leaders in Pittsburgh last week. Photograph: Getty Images.

  The question I asked my Italian friend still stands: does this stuff really play well in Italy? How? How has Silvio Berlusconi managed to maintain his domestic popularity?

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