An Irishman's Diary

IN A certain school I know, when children misbehave, they may be asked to stand for short periods at the “Balla smaoineamh”, or “Wall of reflection”.

This practice should not be confused with “wall-standing”, by which prisoners are made to lean forward in the search position for hours on end, inducing muscle cramps – a practice outlawed by the UN Convention on Torture.

No, this is a fairly gentle disciplinary measure. The guilty party is merely asked to contemplate the error of his or her ways for a few minutes, with the wall serving only as an aid to concentration (all the more successfully because it’s not much to look at).

Even so,it occurs me that such a wall might be a useful addition to the State’s penal structures, in cases not meriting outright imprisonment. Community service already fills this role. But work – however menial – can be a distraction, which may sometimes defeat the point.

A system whereby people were encouraged to think about their misdemeanours in a structured way (a probationary officer would drop by the wall every so often to check if they had arrived at any insights yet) might be more conducive to reform.

Where would we erect a State-sponsored Balla Smaoineamh? Well, it would have to be somewhere central, I suppose: probably in Dublin. In fact, the city already has the “North Wall”, just down the road from the Financial Services Centre. So for various reasons, that might be as good a place as any.

DESPITE being 290 years old, Jonathan Swift's The Run on the Bankersseems quite current these days, with its lines: "A baited Banker thus desponds,/ From his own Hand foresees his Fall;/ They have his Soul who have his Bonds;/ 'Tis like the Writing on the Wall."

Here and elsewhere in the poem, Swift was echoing the Bible (Daniel 5:5-6): “In the same hour came forth fingers of a man’s hand, and wrote over against the candlestick upon the plaister of the wall of the king’s palace: and the king saw the part of the hand that wrote. Then the king’s countenance was changed, and his thoughts troubled him, so that the joints of his loins were loosed, and his knees smote one against another.”

It would of course be preferable if, unlike King Belshazzar, we could always see the writing on the wall while there was still time to avert disaster. Which is why, in my extra-mural disciplinary system, there would be a place for graffiti. Wall-standers would be given chalk, or aerosol cans, or whatever, and encouraged to express themselves; but not just with any old graffiti. Theirs would have to take the form of a confession, or at least a worthwhile epiphany produced by their period of reflection, so that others might look upon the wall and gain wisdom.

IN A different sense, unfortunately, the expression “going to the wall” is already common, and becoming more so by the day. As applied to businesses, it suggests a terminal condition – probably from the medieval sense, when bodies were placed along the wall of a church or graveyard prior to burial.

In a different context, however, the phrase can imply a last resort, in which there is still hope, however desperate. When ambushed in the dark streets of centuries past, a man would defend himself by “going to the wall”, where at least his back was covered. It this position, he might be at his most dangerous.

Muggings aside, nearest the wall was deemed to be the safest part of urban footpaths in former times. Hence the expression "to give the wall" – which,according to Brewers' Dictionary, meant to "allow another, as a matter of courtesy, to pass by. . .at the side furthest from the gutter". (The risk of having something emptied on you from an upstairs window might occasionally diminish this courtesy.) The dictionary also notes another phrase, "to take the wall", meaning "to take the place of honour". Thus Shakespeare's: "I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's (Romeo and Juliet I:1). This would not suit my idea of a penal wall. But then again, phrases meandifferent things here – even "take the wall".

The phrase reminds me of one of the more barefaced crimes of the boom years. This,as you may recall was the theft in 2001 of a large section of Dublin’s Liffey Wall, from across the river at Guinness’s.

The 200-year-old granite structure had been under repair following an accident. And equipped with heavy-lifting equipment, thieves broke into the site one night and make off with 24 square metres of it. In a poignant footnote, the stolen material was described as “priceless” by the then deputy city engineer, a man called “Tim Brick”.

I don’t think anyone was ever caught for the crime. But it goes without saying that, if someone ever is convicted, the Balla Smaoineamh would probably not be a suitable punishment. A custodial sentence might be more appropriate here.