SEVERAL years ago, in a piece about people who'd come down in the world, I admitted that journalists were among those whose reputations had suffered most.
I knew that somewhere an authoritative report showed, beyond yea or nay, how far and how fast our trade had fallen in public esteem. But at the time of writing I couldn't lay hands on the evidence.
No sooner had the piece appeared than a letter arrived, gently confirming my suspicion and pointing to chapter and verse in a survey of European attitudes, a copy of which was enclosed.
It was the writer's personal copy, on which he'd scribbled a consoling note to the effect that drops in public esteem were nothing to worry about. People were always being taken down a peg or two. It could happen to a bishop.
And, in due course, it did though not to my far sighted correspondent, Dr Michael Harty. He was the Bishop of Killaloe; the hapless Dr Eamonn Casey was a crozier's length away, in Galway.
But the point here is not to rehearse the troubles of the Catholic Church; it's to recognise that, apart from bishops and businessmen, others have seen their stock fall of late, and for much the same reason.
Some are pretenders who, like the bishops and businessmen, think they should be running the country. And, if not, that it should at least be run to meet their specific demands. (Like forcing Irish beef down the throats of Russians).
The fact that the country is meant to be run by politicians who are not only paid, but elected, to act on behalf of the citizens at large - in the national interest, in the true meaning of that much abused phrase - means nothing to them.
It's only when the electorate suddenly recognises the extent and cost of undemocratic influence - and angrily turns on everyone in sight - that this reality dawns on pretenders and politicians alike.
But those who believe they should be running the country are not confined to groups engaged in trade, industry and social affairs. Some are professionals, with lofty ideas and an abiding sense of their own superiority.
WHEN Shaw held that all professions were conspiracies against the laity I'm sure that, in addition to priests, lawyers and doctors, he must have had economists in mind.
It's easy to see why economists, once they emerge, blinking, into the sunlight, so quickly antagonise some of the more argumentative members of the public. Their conversations are littered with references to the real world but with little or no evidence to show that they've ever been there.
They are forever reducing expectations that politicians or commentators have taken the trouble to raise. What's more, if you watch them closely, you'll find they take pleasure in it.
But their own views of the future are almost invariably bleak. And, when they're forced to take account of politics, they do so with little grace.
Keep an eye on those of the Doheny and Nesbitt school - some, mere associates, haven't been near the place for years - and you'll see what I mean. Their greatest delight is in telling the rest of us what thin ice we're skating on.
Their message of old wash that our inflation was too high and our public service too big and too well paid. (To their credit, they helped to shift attention from the national question to the national debt).
But now that inflation is a fraction of what it was, the debt/GNP ratio is no longer seriously worrying and the Republic's accounts seem, on last night's evidence, to be in reasonable shape, they still refuse to turn a less baleful eye; on a more cheerful world.
They harp on about the need to cut spending, though no ones is prepared to say where the cuts should be, or what bits could be done without by those dependent on the public service.
No one is willing to explain how they'd fare on a nurse's wages and prospects. Or how they'd meet the costs of the Blood Transfusion Service, BSE or security.
WE may well qualify for membership of EMU, they admit, but shouldn't we wait for Britain to make up her mind before deciding what to do?
(The question is asked in all innocence, as though economists hadn't been wrong on almost every count when we joined the European Monetary System and broke the link with sterling in the 1970s).
Of course, the Doheny and Nesbitt school is a seminary for the Progressive Democrats - even if some of its more youthful members lack the party's wintry charm. At present, its graduates are probably keeping watch on events in the Far East. For the young fogeys of the right, the prospects are mixed, as one night's news on the BBC's World Service illustrated.
It reported Hong Kong prepare for unity with the People's Republic of China; a full house - give or take a couple of seats - for Goh Chok Tong, the hard chaw of Singapore; and rioting inspired by industrial unrest, of all things, in South Korea.
These are the model economies which the PDs - and, no doubt, some of the economists - believe we should emulate when, rather than if, the party resumes its rightful place in government.
In the meantime, the centreleft Coalition has embarked on a series of changes designed to open doors that have not been unlocked since the foundation of the State.
Some are meant to ensure that opportunities for the use of undemocratic influence, or the development of unhealthy relations between business and politics, are reduced or eliminated.
An emphasis on openness that's altogether new to the State is most clearly evident in the lately published Freedom of Information Bill. Its most significant feature is its underlying assumption: that all information should be freely available, not kept secret.
The measure prompted Ronan Kelly, secretary of the freedom of information group "Let in the Light", to write here: "If enacted, this legislation would turn one of the most secretive Western political systems into one of the most open."
In his view, "the creation of an Information Commissioner, whose role is to help the public get at the truth, is the Bill's most important aspect".
If the Bill had been given a lukewarm reception, it was, he believed, because the Government had failed to keep its promise of a referendum on cabinet confidentiality.
A referendum on confidentiality is certainly overdue. So are changes in the laws of libel and defamation - a case made in scrupulous detail by Marie McGonagle, lecturer in law and specialist in media law at UCG, and adopted by commissions on the Constitution and on the newspaper industry.
The Commission on the Constitution also recommended a fundamental change - the adoption of the succinct but comprehensive Article 10 of the European Convention of Human Rights, which begins: "Everyone has the right to freedom of expression . . ."
And the Commission on the Newspaper Industry concluded that the appropriate form of self regulation for the industry would be the appointment of an ombudsman with responsibility for standards.
It's a challenge the industry has chosen to ignore.