The Rich Stay Healthy, The Sick Stay Poor

I was in the kingdom of the mad, autocratic king of Nepal (© guy in todays Guardian) a few years ago watching some English language Indian TV with some other backpackers as you do when the ads came on. It’s the sort of thing that you get used to after a while, seeing products advertised that most people outside have never even heard of, let alone be able to afford. But then there was one that seemed outrageous even by those highly compromised standards.
“You’re going to a party in a weeks time and you just cant fit into this dress?”
Well, no actually, for all sorts of reasons but… someone else had the remote control.
“Well, try new magi-slim! You can lose 10lb in a week!”A Scandanavian guy asked how much that was; I told him about 4.5 kilos. He nodded.
Then we heard a list of all the places in India where you could get this product, which was a
not inconsiderable one.
Then the punchline.
“Now available in Bangladesh!”
What could I do but laugh at the sheer absurdity? Normally advertisers try to sell us things we don’t need and can’t afford, but now they were trying to sell things that people could neither need nor afford or even want.
I’d heard before that big pharma companies in the US had been taking advantage of tax breaks for donating medicine to 3rd World countries by dumping some unused appetite stimulants on the people of Sudan, but I thought this was even more bizarre.
It’s bizarre not only because most people and Bangladesh have at best barely enough food to eat but because being fat is considered a sign of wealthy status there, as it still is in India, and was in the west until a few generations ago.
Look at sketches for Dickens’ novels and you’ll see emaciated, staving waifs next to bloated businessmen. It’s an image that has stayed with us even though thin is very clearly now in. We still talk of “Fat Cat” businessmen and the Dickensian imagery serves cartoonists calling for a better deal for the 3rd world well.
This is in spite of the fact that obesity is a much bigger problem in the west as a result of the so-called “green revolution” of the 40’s when petrochemical fertilisers were invented. Since then, at the mere cost of almost completely eliminating biodiversity in much of the world, cutting down most of the rainforests and developing a insatiable appetite for a dwindling supply of fossil fuels, everyone in the west has enough to eat and most people have more than enough.
Or so I though until yesterday.
Ireland has certainly come a long way since the famine, although even back then we were still producing enough food to feed 10 million people. If I had a cent for every time I heard that we were now the fourth richest country in the world (per capita) and I invested them all wisely we’d probably be the third richest country in the world. As for the rest of the west our problem is now having too much food which leaves us paying more money to go to gyms and run on treadmills, which are an apt metaphor for our society as a whole.
But yesterday we learnt that starvation, shockingly, is still with us.
When I heard that an old woman in Enniscorthy had rotted after starving to death in her own filth, those images of Dickensian waifs came flooding back. Unfortunately, it doesn’t help that the person in charge of the health care system is both in thrall to the fat cats of Private Health care and… how shall I say this? In need of a few tins of Magi-slim herself?
It may seem like a tasteless metaphor, but the horrible truth is that just as there was more than enough food being produced to feed everyone during the famine, there’s at least enough money to feed everyone 100 times over in our economy and yet people are still starving to death.
I’d love to think that the one good thing that might come out of this tragedy would be that David McWilliams would reconsider his “Wonderbra Effect” theory that recycles the old Smithsonian “rising tide” maxim to the effect that everyone’s life has improved under the Celtic Tiger. Sadly, he’ll probably find some way rationalise that in the bad old days things would have been even worse for her, though I’m at a loss as to how anything could be worse than starving to death in your own filth.
I’d love if Mary Harney would take the blame for this tragedy as eagerly as she could took credit for all the places she opened. I’d love if she gave us an honest explanation for why there are more than twice as many home help workers in the far poorer North than there are here.
I’d love if Bertie Ahern would admit that if he was really a socialist, that a country where an acre of land sells for €89million when some people don’t have enough food to eat would represent somewhat of a non-success for him.
Yet, a few days after media move onto their next big story, Red Ahern, Fatty Harney and the other Celtic Jackals will be up to their old tricks, telling us how we’ve never had it so good, and how much better our country is than those sclerotic economies on the continent.
But snort this up your nose with a €500 note, McWilliams: What happened in Enniscorthy would never happen in Sweden, in France or in any country in the EU. Or in Canada, Australia or New Zealand, or Japan. In fact the only other industrialised country where this would happen is the US, the root of all god things for the jackalocracy. There’s and old joke that there’s no point in telling politicians to go to hell as they’re trying to build it for us. If you want to know what sort of hell Mary Harney wants to build for us, take a look at the US, where care for older people is only available to those that can afford it, and where older people are treated with contempt as they don’t contribute anything to the economy.
It’s true that running the health care system isn’t easy and that countries with good health care systems didn’t build them overnight. But it also throws the efforts of Bono, Bob and Brown into sharp relief: How will they ever feed Africa if one of the richest countries in the world leaves one of it’s citizens to starve?
And if this happens in a time of plenty while the state still largely controls the health care system, what will things be like when the multinationals outsource somewhere else and the fate of older people is in the hands of grubby, bean-counting businessmen?

McWilliams & Co: The Celtic Jackals

There’s a Simpsons episode where Homer, after watching The Mask of Zorro, decides that he should settle all his arguments by duelling. The strategy works well for him for a while until an old southern colonel accepts his challenge. He flees to an old family farm where he accidently creates an new, toxically addictive plant called tomacco, gets on the wrong side of those addicted to the product, and flees back to Springfield, only to find the Southern colonel waiting for him.

I had a similar experience just before Christmas. I’d been working on a couple of organic farms in France, having really glad to have been away from all the ugly boorishness that’s accompanied the last ten years of spectacular economic growth. Yet I wasn’t even back in the country for an hour before there was a bus emblazoned with the smug visage of the man who’s appointed himself poet laureate of the Irish economy, David McWilliams.

I’d taken a dislike to this smarmy little know-it-all long before he’d aquired his current guru status among the Irish right. I’ve called him a vile little worm before but then I realised that this is a huge insult to worms, without whom human life would inconceivable, unlike right-wing economists, who we were managing fine without for about 2 million years.

Funny thing was, I didn’t start to hate him until a few days after I saw him in the flesh, assuming he is a human being and not a cyborg developed by the CIA for spreading right-wing propaganda. I vaguely recognised him as that guy from that show on TV3 when he somehow managed to get an interview with Henry Kissinger who was visiting UCC at the time. I was outside in the cold and rain protesting against the presence of the latter, which, sadly is aptly symbolic, though if I’d known more about the former I would have had a few worlds of abuse to shout at him as well.

That Sunday I watched his show hoping to get a glimpse of myself on TV. I wasn’t a big fan before that as I considered it mainly as a forum for his right-wing buddies like Kevin Myers, Shane Ross and Charlie McCreevy to tell the rest of us how great they all were. (bizarrely, he once bagged an interview with Noam Chomsky as well).
That weekend his main interviewee was Mary Harney, who’d also come down to Cork to genuflect at the feet of the man who’d bombed Cambodia back to the stone age. He asked her how she felt about those protesting his presence. She replied that if it had been Gerry Adams there and not Kissinger, we’d all have been at home, and that therefore we were all hypocritical anti-Americans. Astonishingly, he let her get away with such a staggering piece of Orwellian, Fox news double-think, which angered me so much that I never watched his show again. Clearly, I wasn’t alone as he got the heave-ho from TV3 not that long after that, though that might have been more because of the poor production values as the right-wing politics. Or the fact that he talks like comic-book-guy from the Simpsons.

Next time I saw his ugly little face was when he was a guest on TV3’s equally ill-fated Dunphy show. He was debating the merits of the Celtic Tiger with Fintan O Toole who’d written quite a good book on the subject. Fintan used the phrase “right-wing ideology” more than once to describe the government’s prevailing ethos. McWilliams turned his smarminess knob up to 11 and replied “Fintan, you sound like Hilary Clinton. There is no right-wing conspiracy. It’s all in your head.”

Needless to mention, he was also allowed get away with this by Dunphy. He earned the laughs of the crowd and the kudos of the Sunday Independent. Then he went away to write a book about how right he is about everything.

I know mostly about this book from an interview he gave to the Irish Times, which described him as “Cheeky”, as if that made his right-wing views more acceptable. Maybe if Hitler had told a few Jewish mother jokes the Holocaust would have been OK as well. But what annoys me most about the little fucker is not his obnoxious views, his nauseating voice or his insufferable arrogance, it’s the labels he applies to everyone.

Kirkergaard certainly had a point when he said that “He who labels me, negates me.” (Yes, I do know that from watching the first Wayne’s World movie.) But then economics isn’t called the dismal science for nothing. It’s a science that sees us less as living, breathing individuals than as cogs in a machine for generating wealth. That’s why he’s so comfortable labelling those intellectuals who disagree with him as “Confused cosmopolitans” or “Rural Nostalgists”. If he was as eloquent a phrase-maker as he thought he was, it wouldn’t be quite so bad, but when he launches neolgisms like “Malahidilect” and “expectocracy” on an unsuspecting world, you really wish that one of the many SUVs on Dublin’s streets would run him over.

Sadly, that’s not going to happen with all the gridlock on the roads at the moment, so those few of us left outside the Celtic Tiger’s big, coke-filled tent are going to have to fight back with a few vapid clichés of our own. I thought of “Bush babies” to symbolise the Irish Right’s slavish devotion to the moron in the White House, but it doesn’t quite hit the mark. “Harney Helpers” is a bit too glib as well. “members of the dissident IDA/NRA” are both a bit to cumbersome. I settled on Celtic Jackals as Jackals are the animals that right-wingers most resemble. It’s often said by those on the right that being left-wing is like a permanent adolescence as we always want what John Bruton called an Improvement for the better and we never accept things the way they are. To me, being Right-wing is like a permanent infantilism where one never grows out of wanting more and more possessions, not caring about the impact of your behaviour on the rest of the world, and screaming blue murder when you don’t get your way about even the slightest thing. (What’s the name of that Ryanair guy?)

McWilliams and his ilk would be content for this country to go the way of the US, where around 15% of the population live in poverty and where 1% of the population are in jail at any given time in spite of the country’s vast wealth. It’s a logical extension of his belief that the happiness of a society can be measured purely by it’s overall wealth, and if you’re poor, well, tough shit, you must be too stupid or lazy.

In the same Irish Times interview he claims that Ireland is receiving 7 times as many immigrants as France, which is a utopia for many Irish “egalitarians” (according to him). Note that he uses the e-word, as if he thought his tongue would be ripped from his mouth by the ghost of Adam Smith if he used the s-word. If he wasn’t a right-wing economist and they weren’t automatically right about everything, I’d say he was way off the mark as France has a far bigger non-indiginous population as we do. I thought of my visit to France living largely outside the cash economy as a big fuck-you to the likes of McWilliams. It’s true that there aren’t as many SUVs or as much Coke in France, but is this really such a bad thing? At least the roads are all fine, the trains run on time and they have done for quite some time. The right won’t ever admit this, but the economic boom isn’t going to go on forever and at the end of it people are going to wish we spent the money improving health and transport instead of blowing it all on big cars, big houses and designer drugs.

Yes, there were cars burnt in France a few months back. It happens in Dublin and Limerick all the time. After all, not everyone has been lifted up by the “wonderbra effect”.

I didn’t read his book, and I’m probably not going to. The first sentence is “Ireland has Arrived”, which says it all, really. Clearly, the fact that many people can afford SUVs is more of an accomplishment to him than millennia of Literature, Music and Art.

In a hundred years time people wont know that Ireland was the third richest country in the world (per capita) for a few years but they will still be reading Ulysses.

But not the vulgarly-titled Pope’s Children.

Bowled out for '06?

Here, a bit later than I anticipated, are my predictions for this year.

January:
Seamus looks through predictions for last year. Notes that he didn't predict Liverpool winning European cup. Predicts that Liverpool will overcome Luton 5-3 in thrilling FA Cup tie.
Passenger seen dragged onto ship in Shnnon wearing Ball and Chain. Bertie denies any impropriety on part of Americans. Cold snap hits Northern Hemisphere pushing up price of gas. Ha Ha, say Russians. Seamus admits to self that if he couold understand the risk equalisation issue he might possibly think that Mary Harney was right. Average commuting time to Dublin increases to one and a half hours. Bertie reminds everyone that in bad old days people had no cars and had to spend whole time shooting up heroin.

Febuary:
Makes us shiver. George Bush denies global warming responsible, wearing confused look on face.Fight breaks out in Bagdhad between American soldiers arguing about whether the insurgency is being fought by Shias or Sunnis. Death toll reaches 121. Tony Blairs argues against reclassifying cannabis as a class A drug, wearing smile on face.

March:
Bereaved families of American dead set up camp outside White Houes, with banners asking Bush if he knows who the good guys are. White House refuses to comment. Chilling screams heard from US plane which shatter windows in Shannon area. Bertie claims that American soldier was reacting to stories of hardship Irish people suffered when Fine Gael were last in power.

April:Chelsea lose to Liverpool in Champion’s League semi-final. Abramovich invites Mourinho into office, turns round on swivel chair and greets him while stroking cat. Trapdoor opens but Mourinho held up by weight of ego and survives. Tony Blair rejects calls for inquiry into incident, saying, hey, you know, he seems like… What was the question again?

May:
Starts getting warm. George Bush goes on holiday to Texas. Protestors follow. SSIAs mature. Run on prada handbags causes shortage which leads to riots in Grafton Street. Micheal McDowell blames combination of dissident republicans and Polish immigrants for incident. Hear, hear; says Pat Rabitte.

June:
Heatwave hits central US. Protestors outside George Bush’s ranch build big fan to keep selves warm. Record temperatures also recorded in Dublin. Bertie says that when Fine Gael were last in power, people only knew about the sun from illustrations that were washed up on the coast from Spain. When asked about Kyoto, refers to it as a dead issue.

July:
Major Earthquake hits somewhere in Central Asia. World’s media gets in Tizzy for a few days. Kerry Katona not hurt, reads headline in Irish Sun. Bob Geldof organizes benefit gig where a reformed U2 play. When informed that they never split up, storms out calling everyone a big bunch of shaggin’ cynics. Protestors fan collapses killing many. Rapture index up to 231.

August:
Global heatwave causes polar bears to seek kidney replacement. Bush invites press to Texas to deny that global warming exists but decides that it’s too hot out and goes back to watch football on TV with Aircon at full blast. Looking at sunset from Tuscan Villa, Tony Blair notices that Sun is really, really red.

September:
Annoyed by constant noise coming from outside ranch, Bush grabs oozy from security guard and massacres protestors. Condoleeza Rice warns world not to overreact saying that this is a new type of war we are fighting here. World leaders are asked to reconsider their support for Bush. Angela Merkel says that when Germany had a hand-on leader like this things were a lot better. Berlusconi says that last two times italy pulled out of war everyone called them cowards and he’s not going to let that happen again. Tony Blair says, hey, you know, we all get a bit stressed sometimes. Rapture index up to 239.

October:
David Cameron subtly suggests that Tony Blair may be a dope addict after he fails to show up for reopening of parliament citing bad vibes as reason. John Prescott tries to defend him but fails to pronounce the word Marajuana properly.

November:
Plane arrives into Shannon with words “Ha Ha we are torturing people and there’s fuck all you can do about it, you European pussies” painted on in big red lettering. Bertie says that when Fine Gael were in power none of us had enough money to worry about sand niggers being tortured. Meanwhile, Letterkenny becomes commuter town for Dublin. David McWilliams hails this development as a sign that Ireland is now the best place in the history of the universe. Tony Blair admits on TV that he occasionally has a puff of dope now and again. Gordon Brown says he noo it, demands leadership.

December:
Floods hit Bangkok, Amsterdam and Venice, killing hundreds of thousands and wiping 6% of the worlds economy away in a stroke. “I want to get back with Bryan”, reads Irish Mirror Headline. New British leader Gordon Brown appoints Bob Geldof chief of commission to supply Aid. Questions over political judgment raised . Generous Irish response prompts Bertie to say that if this had happened 20 years ago we wouldn’t have given a brass farthing because we were all too poor. Pat Rabitte says that we should concentrate on helping people in our own country, so we should. George Bush says that if he hears one more fucking question about global warming he’ll kill everyone in the room. After a pregnant pause, a fox news journalist asks if he thinks the Iranian government had anything to do with this.
Rapture index reaches 250. Jesus comes back down to Earth. Bertie says that when Fine Gael were in power we had no visitors from Israel because of the poor facilites on offer at the time. 144,000 Syrian Christians from Indian state of kerala go to heaven, rest of us perish. Immediately before being cast into hell, Bertie says sure how bad could it be, I’ve lived under a Fine Gael Government.

The Seamus Awards 2005

Hey Folks,
Haven't posted up anything in a while as I've been away in France working on organic farms. It was good to get away from the Whole Celtic Tiger thing for a while though I couldn't put much stuff up on my blog because of the weird keyboards. Being away for almost 5 months means I haven't seen all the movies that came out this year but you don't really expect comprehensiveness from bloggers, now do you?

Here, nonetheless, are my awards for the year.

Best Novel: Kafka on the Shore, Haruki Murakami

Best Non-Fiction Book: Collapse, Jared Diamond

Best Movie: The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou

Worst Movie of 2005 (or any other year): Dear Wendy

Best Album (Rock) : Oceans Apart, The Go Betweens

Best Single: I predict a riot, Kaiser Chiefs

Best Album (Electronica) '64-'95, Lemonjelly

Best Concert: Elecrtric Picnic

Best Cork City of Culture Event: Frankenstein

Worst Cork City of Culture "Event": Knitting Map

Best Riot: G8, Stirling

Most Ironic piece of Merchandise: G8 T-Shirt, made in Honduras

Best Wedding: My Brothers, Patmos, Greece

The Aisling Enright award for best niece: Aisling Enright

The Michael O Leary award for most nausaeating git: David McWilliams

Hugo Chavez prize for standing up to George Bush: Hugo Chavez

Tony Blair award for Brown-Nosing George Bush: Bertie Ahern

George Bush Award for chutzpah: Draft-Dodger Dick Cheney Labelling Iraq war opponents "Spineless"

Best Football Match: Need You Ask? Liverpool 3 AC Milan 3 (Liverpool win 4-2 on penalties)

Best other football-related event: A Tie between Man Utd losing Roy Keane and their manager losing his marbles.

I'm sure there's more stuff I can think of, but I've got to look into my crystal ball and let you all know what '06 has in store for us. Last year I predicted lots of ecological disasters and turned out to be on the button with that one. So watch this space.