Cassandra Voices

Author: Cassandra Voices

  • Cassandra Classics: ‘The Lottery’ (1948) by Shirley Jackson

    At Cassandra Voices we believe in contrasting the original work of our contemporary contributors with accomplished authors from yesteryear. Perennial favourites of such mastery, they appear as fresh and modern as the day they were first published.

    For our May edition we bring you Shirley Jackson’s ‘The Lottery’. A short story from 1948, and notorious for provoking the most vehement hate mail of any piece of fiction in the venerable New Yorker’s history. Loyal readers of the magazine went so far as to cancel their subscriptions in protest.

    In Shirley Jackson’s own words,

    Curiously, there are three main themes which dominate the letters of that first summer—three themes which might be identified as bewilderment, speculation and plain old-fashioned abuse. In the years since then, during which the story has been anthologized, dramatized, televised, and even—in one completely mystifying transformation—made into a ballet, the tenor of letters I receive has changed. I am addressed more politely, as a rule, and the letters largely confine themselves to questions like what does this story mean? The general tone of the early letters, however, was a kind of wide-eyed, shocked innocence. People at first were not so much concerned with what the story meant; what they wanted to know was where these lotteries were held, and whether they could go there and watch.

    ************************************************************************************

    The morning of June 27th was clear and sunny, with the fresh warmth of a full-summer day; the flowers were blossoming profusely and the grass was richly green. The people of the village began to gather in the square, between the post office and the bank, around ten o’clock; in some towns there were so many people that the lottery took two days and had to be started on June 2th. but in this village, where there were only about three hundred people, the whole lottery took less than two hours, so it could begin at ten o’clock in the morning and still be through in time to allow the villagers to get home for noon dinner.

    The children assembled first, of course. School was recently over for the summer, and the feeling of liberty sat uneasily on most of them; they tended to gather together quietly for a while before they broke into boisterous play. and their talk was still of the classroom and the teacher, of books and reprimands. Bobby Martin had already stuffed his pockets full of stones, and the other boys soon followed his example, selecting the smoothest and roundest stones; Bobby and Harry Jones and Dickie Delacroix– the villagers pronounced this name “Dellacroy”–eventually made a great pile of stones in one corner of the square and guarded it against the raids of the other boys. The girls stood aside, talking among themselves, looking over their shoulders at rolled in the dust or clung to the hands of their older brothers or sisters.

    Soon the men began to gather. surveying their own children, speaking of planting and rain, tractors and taxes. They stood together, away from the pile of stones in the corner, and their jokes were quiet and they smiled rather than laughed. The women, wearing faded house dresses and sweaters, came shortly after their menfolk. They greeted one another and exchanged bits of gossip as they went to join their husbands. Soon the women, standing by their husbands, began to call to their children, and the children came reluctantly, having to be called four or five times. Bobby Martin ducked under his mother’s grasping hand and ran, laughing, back to the pile of stones. His father spoke up sharply, and Bobby came quickly and took his place between his father and his oldest brother.

    The lottery was conducted–as were the square dances, the teen club, the Halloween program–by Mr. Summers. who had time and energy to devote to civic activities. He was a round-faced, jovial man and he ran the coal business, and people were sorry for him. because he had no children and his wife was a scold. When he arrived in the square, carrying the black wooden box, there was a murmur of conversation among the villagers, and he waved and called. “Little late today, folks.” The postmaster, Mr. Graves, followed him, carrying a three- legged stool, and the stool was put in the center of the square and Mr. Summers set the black box down on it. The villagers kept their distance, leaving a space between themselves and the stool. and when Mr. Summers said, “Some of you fellows want to give me a hand?” there was a hesitation before two men. Mr. Martin and his oldest son, Baxter. came forward to hold the box steady on the stool while Mr. Summers stirred up the papers inside it.

    The original paraphernalia for the lottery had been lost long ago, and the black box now resting on the stool had been put into use even before Old Man Warner, the oldest man in town, was born. Mr. Summers spoke frequently to the villagers about making a new box, but no one liked to upset even as much tradition as was represented by the black box. There was a story that the present box had been made with some pieces of the box that had preceded it, the one that had been constructed when the first people settled down to make a village here. Every year, after the lottery, Mr. Summers began talking again about a new box, but every year the subject was allowed to fade off without anything’s being done.

    The black box grew shabbier each year: by now it was no longer completely black but splintered badly along one side to show the original wood color, and in some places faded or stained.

    Mr. Martin and his oldest son, Baxter, held the black box securely on the stool until Mr. Summers had stirred the papers thoroughly with his hand. Because so much of the ritual had been forgotten or discarded, Mr. Summers had been successful in having slips of paper substituted for the chips of wood that had been used for generations. Chips of wood, Mr. Summers had argued. had been all very well when the village was tiny, but now that the population was more than three hundred and likely to keep on growing, it was necessary to use something that would fit more easily into he black box. The night before the lottery, Mr. Summers and Mr. Graves made up the slips of paper and put them in the box, and it was then taken to the safe of Mr. Summers’ coal company and locked up until Mr. Summers was ready to take it to the square next morning. The rest of the year, the box was put way, sometimes one place, sometimes another; it had spent one year in Mr. Graves’s barn and another year underfoot in the post office. and sometimes it was set on a shelf in the Martin grocery and left there.

    There was a great deal of fussing to be done before Mr. Summers declared the lottery open. There were the lists to make up–of heads of families. heads of households in each family. members of each household in each family. There was the proper swearing-in of Mr. Summers by the postmaster, as the official of the lottery; at one time, some people remembered, there had been a recital of some sort, performed by the official of the lottery, a perfunctory. tuneless chant that had been rattled off duly each year; some people believed that the official of the lottery used to stand just so when he said or sang it, others believed that he was supposed to walk among the people, but years and years ago this p3rt of the ritual had been allowed to lapse. There had been, also, a ritual salute, which the official of the lottery had had to use in addressing each person who came up to draw from the box, but this also had changed with time, until now it was felt necessary only for the official to speak to each person approaching. Mr. Summers was very good at all this; in his clean white shirt and blue jeans. with one hand resting carelessly on the black box. he seemed very proper and important as he talked interminably to Mr. Graves and the Martins.

    Just as Mr. Summers finally left off talking and turned to the assembled villagers, Mrs. Hutchinson came hurriedly along the path to the square, her sweater thrown over her shoulders, and slid into place in the back of the crowd. “Clean forgot what day it was,” she said to Mrs. Delacroix, who stood next to her, and they both laughed softly. “Thought my old man was out back stacking wood,” Mrs. Hutchinson went on. “and then I looked out the window and the kids was gone, and then I remembered it was the twenty- seventh and came a-running.” She dried her hands on her apron, and Mrs. Delacroix said, “You’re in time, though. They’re still talking away up there.”

    Mrs. Hutchinson craned her neck to see through the crowd and found her husband and children standing near the front. She tapped Mrs. Delacroix on the arm as a farewell and began to make her way through the crowd. The people separated good-humoredly to let her through: two or three people said. in voices just loud enough to be heard across the crowd, “Here comes your, Missus, Hutchinson,” and “Bill, she made it after all.” Mrs. Hutchinson reached her husband, and Mr. Summers, who had been waiting, said cheerfully. “Thought we were going to have to get on without you, Tessie.” Mrs. Hutchinson said. grinning, “Wouldn’t have me leave m’dishes in the sink, now, would you. Joe?,” and soft laughter ran through the crowd as the people stirred back into position after Mrs. Hutchinson’s arrival.

    “Well, now.” Mr. Summers said soberly, “guess we better get started, get this over with, so’s we can go back to work. Anybody ain’t here?”

    “Dunbar.” several people said. “Dunbar. Dunbar.”

    Mr. Summers consulted his list. “Clyde Dunbar.” he said. “That’s right. He’s broke his leg, hasn’t he? Who’s drawing for him?”

    “Me. I guess,” a woman said. and Mr. Summers turned to look at her. “Wife draws for her husband.” Mr. Summers said. “Don’t you have a grown boy to do it for you, Janey?” Although Mr. Summers and everyone else in the village knew the answer perfectly well, it was the business of the official of the lottery to ask such questions formally. Mr. Summers waited with an expression of polite interest while Mrs. Dunbar answered.

    “Horace’s not but sixteen yet.” Mrs. Dunbar said regretfully. “Guess I gotta fill in for the old man this year.”

    “Right.” Mr. Summers said. He made a note on the list he was holding. Then he asked, “Watson boy drawing this year?”

    A tall boy in the crowd raised his hand. “Here,” he said. “I’m drawing for my mother and me.” He blinked his eyes nervously and ducked his head as several voices in the crowd said thin#s like “Good fellow, lack.” and “Glad to see your mother’s got a man to do it.”

    “Well,” Mr. Summers said, “guess that’s everyone. Old Man Warner make it?” “Here,” a voice said. and Mr. Summers nodded.

     

    A sudden hush fell on the crowd as Mr. Summers cleared his throat and looked at the list. “All ready?” he called. “Now, I’ll read the names–heads of families first–and the men come up and take a paper out of the box. Keep the paper folded in your hand without looking at it until everyone has had a turn. Everything clear?”

    The people had done it so many times that they only half listened to the directions: most of them were quiet. wetting their lips. not looking around. Then Mr. Summers raised one hand high and said, “Adams.” A man disengaged himself from the crowd and came forward. “Hi. Steve.” Mr. Summers said. and Mr. Adams said. “Hi. Joe.” They grinned at one another humorlessly and nervously. Then Mr. Adams reached into the black box and took out a folded paper. He held it firmly by one corner as he turned and went hastily back to his place in the crowd. where he stood a little apart from his family. not looking down at his hand.

    “Allen.” Mr. Summers said. “Anderson. Bentham.”

    “Seems like there’s no time at all between lotteries any more.” Mrs. Delacroix said to Mrs. Graves in the back row.

    “Seems like we got through with the last one only last week.”

    “Time sure goes fast,” Mrs. Graves said.

    “Clark. Delacroix”

    “There goes my old man.” Mrs.Delacroix said. She held her breath while her husband went forward.

    “Dunbar,” Mr. Summers said, and Mrs. Dunbar went steadily to the box while one of the women said. “Go on. Janey,” and another said, “There she goes.”

    “We’re next.” Mrs. Graves said. She watched while Mr. Graves came around from the side of the box, greeted Mr. Summers gravely and selected a slip of paper from the box. By now, all through the crowd there were men holding the small folded papers in their large hand. turning them over and over nervously Mrs. Dunbar and her two sons stood together, Mrs. Dunbar holding the slip of paper.

    “Harburt. Hutchinson.”

    “Get up there, Bill,” Mrs. Hutchinson said. and the people near her laughed. “Jones.”

    “They do say,” Mr. Adams said to Old Man Warner, who stood next to him, “that over in the north village the’re talking of giving up the lottery.”

    Old Man Warner snorted. “Pack of crazy fools,” he said. “Listening to the young folks, nothing’s good enough for them. Next thing you know, they’ll be wanting to go back to living in caves, nobody work any more, live hat way for a while. Used to be a saying about ‘Lottery in June, corn be heavy soon.’ First thing you know, we’d all be eating stewed chickweed and acorns. There’s always been a lottery,” he added petulantly. “Bad enough to see young Joe Summers up there joking with everybody.”

    “Some places have already quit lotteries.” Mrs. Adams said.

    “Nothing but trouble in that,” Old Man Warner said stoutly. “Pack of young fools.” “Martin.” And Bobby Martin watched his father go forward. “Overdyke. Percy.”

    “I wish they’d hurry,” Mrs. Dunbar said to her older son. “They’re almost through,” her son said.

    “You get ready to run tell Dad,” Mrs. Dunbar said.

    Mr. Summers called his own name and then stepped forward precisely and selected a slip from the box. Then he called, “Warner.”

    “Seventy-seventh year I been in the lottery,” Old Man Warner said as he went through the crowd. “Seventy-seventh time.”

    “Watson” The tall boy came awkwardly through the crowd. Someone said, “Don’t be nervous, Jack,” and Mr. Summers said, “Take your time, son.”

    “Zanini.”

     

    After that, there was a long pause, a breathless pause, until Mr. Summers. holding his slip of paper in the air, said, “All right, fellows.” For a minute, no one moved, and then all the slips of paper were opened.

    Suddenly, all the women began to speak at once, saving. “Who is it?,” “Who’s got it?,” “Is it the Dunbars?,” “Is it the Watsons?” Then the voices began to say, “It’s Hutchinson. It’s Bill,” “Bill Hutchinson’s got it.”

    “Go tell your father,” Mrs. Dunbar said to her older son.

    People began to look around to see the Hutchinsons. Bill Hutchinson was standing quiet, staring down at the paper in his hand. Suddenly. Tessie Hutchinson shouted to Mr. Summers. “You didn’t give him time enough to take any paper he wanted. I saw you. It wasn’t fair!”

    “Be a good sport, Tessie.” Mrs. Delacroix called, and Mrs. Graves said, “All of us took the same chance.” “Shut up, Tessie,” Bill Hutchinson said.

    “Well, everyone,” Mr. Summers said, “that was done pretty fast, and now we’ve got to be hurrying a little more to get done in time.” He consulted his next list. “Bill,” he said, “you draw for the Hutchinson family. You got any other households in the Hutchinsons?”

    “There’s Don and Eva,” Mrs. Hutchinson yelled. “Make them take their chance!”

    “Daughters draw with their husbands’ families, Tessie,” Mr. Summers said gently. “You know that as well as anyone else.”

    “It wasn’t fair,” Tessie said.

    “I guess not, Joe.” Bill Hutchinson said regretfully. “My daughter draws with her husband’s family; that’s only fair. And I’ve got no other family except the kids.”

    “Then, as far as drawing for families is concerned, it’s you,” Mr. Summers said in explanation, “and as far as drawing for households is concerned, that’s you, too. Right?”

    “Right,” Bill Hutchinson said.

    “How many kids, Bill?” Mr. Summers asked formally. “Three,” Bill Hutchinson said.

    “There’s Bill, Jr., and Nancy, and little Dave. And Tessie and me.”

    “All right, then,” Mr. Summers said. “Harry, you got their tickets back?”

    Mr. Graves nodded and held up the slips of paper. “Put them in the box, then,” Mr. Summers directed. “Take Bill’s and put it in.”

    “I think we ought to start over,” Mrs. Hutchinson said, as quietly as she could. “I tell you it wasn’t fair. You didn’t give him time enough to choose. Everybody saw that.”

    Mr. Graves had selected the five slips and put them in the box, and he dropped all the papers but those onto the ground, where the breeze caught them and lifted them off.

    “Listen, everybody,” Mrs. Hutchinson was saying to the people around her.

    “Ready, Bill?” Mr. Summers asked. and Bill Hutchinson, with one quick glance around at his wife and children. nodded.

    “Remember,” Mr. Summers said. “take the slips and keep them folded until each person has taken one. Harry, you help little Dave.” Mr. Graves took the hand of the little boy, who came willingly with him up to the box. “Take a paper out of the box, Davy.” Mr. Summers said. Davy put his hand into the box and laughed. “Take just one paper.” Mr. Summers said. “Harry, you hold it for him.” Mr. Graves took the child’s hand and removed the folded paper from the tight fist and held it while little Dave stood next to him and looked up at him wonderingly.

    “Nancy next,” Mr. Summers said. Nancy was twelve, and her school friends breathed heavily as she went forward switching her skirt, and took a slip daintily from the box “Bill, Jr.,” Mr. Summers said, and Billy, his face red and his feet overlarge, near knocked the box over as he got a paper out. “Tessie,” Mr. Summers said. She hesitated for a minute, looking around defiantly. and then set her lips and went up to the box. She snatched a paper out and held it behind her.

    “Bill,” Mr. Summers said, and Bill Hutchinson reached into the box and felt around, bringing his hand out at last with the slip of paper in it.

    The crowd was quiet. A girl whispered, “I hope it’s not Nancy,” and the sound of the whisper reached the edges of the crowd.

    “It’s not the way it used to be.” Old Man Warner said clearly. “People ain’t the way they used to be.” “All right,” Mr. Summers said. “Open the papers. Harry, you open little Dave’s.”

    Mr. Graves opened the slip of paper and there was a general sigh through the crowd as he held it up and everyone could see that it was blank. Nancy and Bill. Jr.. opened theirs at the same time. and both beamed and laughed. turning around to the crowd and holding their slips of paper above their heads.

    “Tessie,” Mr. Summers said. There was a pause, and then Mr. Summers looked at Bill Hutchinson, and Bill unfolded his paper and showed it. It was blank.

    “It’s Tessie,” Mr. Summers said, and his voice was hushed. “Show us her paper. Bill.”

    Bill Hutchinson went over to his wife and forced the slip of paper out of her hand. It had a black spot on it, the black spot Mr. Summers had made the night before with the heavy pencil in the coal company office. Bill Hutchinson held it up, and there was a stir in the crowd.

    “All right, folks.” Mr. Summers said. “Let’s finish quickly.”

    Although the villagers had forgotten the ritual and lost the original black box, they still remembered to use stones. The pile of stones the boys had made earlier was ready; there were stones on the ground with the blowing scraps of paper that had come out of the box Delacroix selected a stone so large she had to pick it up with both hands and turned to Mrs. Dunbar. “Come on,” she said. “Hurry up.”

    Mr. Dunbar had small stones in both hands, and she said. gasping for breath. “I can’t run at all. You’ll have to go ahead and I’ll catch up with you.”

    The children had stones already. And someone gave little Davy Hutchinson few pebbles.

    Tessie Hutchinson was in the center of a cleared space by now, and she held her hands out desperately as the villagers moved in on her. “It isn’t fair,” she said. A stone hit her on the side of the head. Old Man Warner was saying, “Come on, come on, everyone.” Steve Adams was in the front of the crowd of villagers, with Mrs. Graves beside him.

    “It isn’t fair, it isn’t right,” Mrs. Hutchinson screamed, and then they were upon her.

  • Fine Gael’s Habitat Denial

    The idea of home is a recurring Irish preoccupation – níl aon tinteán mar do thinteán féin.[i] This can be traced to a history of Famine dispossession, and a subsequent Land War. The Irish Constitution still commits the State to supporting women as home-makers.[ii]

    It perhaps explains the vehemence of recent criticism, from across the political spectrum, directed at the Fingal Battalion Direct Action for protesting outside private residences of government ministers Simon Harris, Richard Bruton and Paschal Donohoe, as well as Taoiseach Leo Varadkar.

    Social Democrat councillor Gary Gannon condemned the campaign as ‘entirely wrong’[iii]; while the Irish Times also weighed in, likening the protests to interventions at hospitals and medical clinics by anti-abortion groups.[iv]

    While in the UK the sight of politicians’ homes being besieged by an intrusive media or angry protestors is a familiar one, in Ireland we expect restraint and even civility around the domestic space of public representatives.

    That the Fingal group styles itself a ‘Battalion’ also conveys paramilitarism and a form of mob rule. Political protest, however, is always considered ugly by those in power, and an absolute ban on any form would set a dangerous precedent. What if the mob is actually in power?

    Before the last Italian election a crowd, holding candles, gathered outside the Milan residence of Silvio Berlusconi, as a member of the Five Star Movement read out an indictment against the disgraced former prime minister, revealing his links to the real mob, or mafia.[v] It was a powerful democratic statement: calling a billionaire politician to account outside his home.

    In order for a campaign on the margins to gain public attention a degree of civil disobedience is often required. That was certainly the case with the NAMA to Nature project in 2012.[vi] Ghost estates around the country appeared as a testament to folly and greed, making the public overwhelmingly receptive to what was a trespass on private property to heal the landscape by planting trees.

    But since the Crash we have seen a steady reassertion of the rights of property-owners. This often works to the detriment of marginalised citizens, and can imperil the habitats of species under threat of extinction. Travellers also defy a widespread devotion to private ownership, making them a convenient target for unscrupulous politicians.

    The government’s housing policy is failing at a fundamental level the ten thousand homeless citizens.[vii] An entrenched sympathy with landlords was set out by Eoghan Murphy in a speech to the Dáil last December:

    We have to be very careful in interfering more than we are at the moment. We have to make sure that we are not placing extra burdens on these small landlords. And we have to make sure that we are not prohibiting someone from selling a property that they own when they might need to sell that property for perfectly legitimate reasons in their own lives. They may not have the money to re-compensate the person living in the property at that point.[viii]

    Above all the government has failed to build the houses necessary to alleviate the Housing Crisis, at a time of when the states coffers are bulging. Taoiseach Varadkar’s oft-stated ideological opposition to socialism seems an obvious reason.

    Upholding property holders rights extends to giving farmers free reign to do as they wish on their land. Last month Minister for Arts, Heritage and the Gaeltacht Josepha Madigan signed off on an order extending the burning season of uplands, the habitats of hen harriers and skylarks, among other wildlife.

    Anne Marie Hourihane in the The Times Irish edition provided a scathing assessment of the Minister’s response:

    At the weekend Josepha Madigan, the heritage minister, suggested that we address Ireland’s plummeting bird population by installing bird feeders in our gardens. Unfortunately, skylarks and hen harriers are not known for their attendance at bird tables, preferring to nest in uplands. Maybe the proposed bird feeders are intended as a diversionary tactic for the birds that will be nesting in the hedgerows in August. For example, your local yellowhammer — if you have one, as the yellowhammer is already on our danger list — might leave his hedgerow to get a slap-up feed at some well-appointed bird table, then fly back to his hedgerow, where he’ll say: “Hey, man, where’s my gaff? Also, the wife and kids . . .” It’s going to be a great craic.

    Hourihane also highlighted an extension to the period for cutting hedgerows, which, she wrote, ‘contain so much wildlife, so many insects — including bees — so many small mammals, that they are a permanent wildlife programme all on their own. Now we will be allowed to cut them in August.’[ix]

    Madigan’s response revealed either naivete, or a disregard for vulnerable species. Yet this runs contrary to the common good of preserving wildlife, potentially infringing what may, at a later time, be found to be in breach of any native species right, ‘to be, to habitat, and to fulfil its role in the ever-renewing processes of the Earth community’, as argued previously.

    Leo Varadkar’s committed to an ‘extensive investment programme’ in the arts[x] during the Fine Gael leadership election, yet many artists and musicians struggle to afford a accommidation in Ireland. This is especially the case in Dublin, soon to be the EU’s most expensive city for rental accommodation.[xi] The plight of musicians is particularly difficult given how digital technology has decimated potential earnings from CD sales.

    Songwriter David Kitt, who grew up in Madigan’s Dublin South constituency, where his father Tom Kitt was actually a Fianna Fail T.D., last year announced he was unable to afford accommodation in the capital, bemoaning how, ‘Dublin’s heart and soul is being ripped out and sold to the highest bidder.’[xii]

    Furthermore, a recent letter signed by 407 members of the Irish theatre community claimed the direction the Abbey theatre is taking is causing ‘devastation among our ranks’, and pointing out there would not be a single Irish-based actor involved in any productions between September 2018 and February 2019.[xiii]

    The Abbey, founded by W.B. Yeats and Lady Gregory, is the national theatre of Ireland. The staging of J.M. Synge’s Playboy of the Western World in 1907 there brought riots over an unfavourable portrayal of Irishness. A lack of indigenous theatrical productions today prevents similar interrogations of contemporary Irish culture, while forcing many thespians into exile.

    True art and literature, as George Steiner argues, is ‘always, a critique’, involving ‘a value judgment of, the inheritance and context to which they pertain.’[xiv]

    We have also learnt of funding being denied by Irish embassies abroad to Irish artistic endeavours that fail to cast the country in a favourable light.

    The reliance of artists on patronage develops worrying dynamics. Will the anointed elite continue to pose the difficult questions essential to great works if funding is jeopardised? The major concern, however, is that Dublin, in particular, is being denuded of the vitality and originality of a vibrant artistic community, compelled to make their homes elsewhere.

    Rare birds and feckless artists are forms of endangered wild life that do not fit comfortably into a society dominated by the interests of land owners. Those who invade the domestic spaces of politicians are roundly condemned, but can Ireland offer the sanctity of a home for all its species?

    We rely on contributions to keep Cassandra Voices going.

    [i] Lit. ‘There’s no hearth like your own hearth’, or ‘there’s no place like home’.

    [ii] Article 41.2.1: ‘In particular, the State recognises that by her life within the home, woman gives to the State a support without which the common good cannot be achieved.’

    [iii] Gary Gannon, Twitter: @1GaryGannon: https://twitter.com/1GaryGannon/status/1104784247825596416, March 10th, 2019. accessed 12/3/19.

    [iv] Untitled editorial, ‘The Irish Times view on political protests: Crossing the line’, Irish Times, February 19th, 2019. https://www.irishtimes.com/opinion/editorial/the-irish-times-view-on-political-protests-crossing-the-line-1.3798009, accessed 12/3/19.

    [v] ‘Alessandro Di Battista sotto la villa di Berlusconi, legge la sentenza Dell’Utri (COMPLETO)’ Youtube, February 9th 2018. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GRpXvuxP28k, accessed 12/3/19.

    [vi] Frank Armstrong ‘Nama to Nature: why we are planting trees on ghost estates’, March 19th, 2012, www.thejournal.ie, https://www.thejournal.ie/nama-to-nature-why-we-are-planting-trees-on-ghost-estates-384378-Mar2012/, accessed 13/3/19.

    [vii] Pat Flanagan ‘Number of homeless in Ireland hits record high of more than 10,000, according to new figures’, March 27th, 2019, Irish Mirror, https://www.irishmirror.ie/news/irish-news/number-homeless-ireland-hits-record-14195755, 29/3/19.

    [viii] ‘Deputy Eoghan Murphy – Private Members’ Business – 12.12.2018’, YouTube,   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z1RRw0lM9iI, accessed 18/12/19.

    [ix] Anne Marie Hourihane, ‘Ireland, where the wild things are under threat’, February 13th, 2019, The Times (Irish edition), https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/ireland-where-the-wild-things-are-under-threat-tmps0c80x, accessed 13/3/19.

    [x] Elaine Loughlin, ‘Leo Varadkar pledges double budget for sport and arts’, Irish Examiner, May 22nd, 2017, https://www.irishexaminer.com/ireland/leo-varadkar-pledges-double-budget-for-sport-and-arts-450636.html, accessed 20/3/19.

    [xi] Sean Murray, ‘Dublin now in top 5 most expensive places to rent in Europe, research finds’, March 13th, 2019, thejournal.ie, https://www.thejournal.ie/dublin-rent-europe-4538856-Mar2019/, accessed 14/3/19.

    [xii] Untitled, ‘Songwriter David Kitt quits Dublin due to high rents’, July 31st, 2019, RTE, https://www.rte.ie/entertainment/2018/0730/982081-songwriter-david-kitt-quits-dublin-due-to-high-rents/, accessed 14/3/19.

    [xiii] Aoife Barry, ‘Abbey and theatre makers to meet as 100 more sign letter of ‘concern and dissatisfaction’’, January 29th, 2019, thejournal.ie, https://www.thejournal.ie/abbey-theatre-concern-meeting-committee-4464893-Jan2019/, accessed, 14/3/19.

    [xiv] George Steiner, Real Presences, London, Faber and Faber, 1989, p.11

    [xv] Rosita Boland, ‘Josepha Madigan on culture and her racy self-published novel’, November 29th, 2018, Irish Times, https://www.irishtimes.com/culture/josepha-madigan-on-culture-and-her-racy-self-published-novel-1.3712257, accessed 19/3/19.

  • ‘Focused on Phibsborough’ – An Interview with local election candidate Sean McCabe

    After working for the Mary Robinson Foundation – Climate Justice at global conferences, Sean McCabe is now relishing the chance to represent the local concerns of his Phibsborough community. He intends to bring meaningful improvements to people’s lives, and help build community-owned initiative to tackle threats posed by climate change and inequality. Cassandra Voices interviews this first-time independent candidate in the May 24th election.

    What motivated you to enter politics?

    I think we are all in politics whether we like it or not. In January 2010 I moved to Calcutta, India where I spent a little under two years working in a hospice, serving people whose lives were devastated and extinguished by poverty. It was a formative time. The depth of injustice made me angry and shaped how I understood life and my opportunities in it. I made a promise to myself that I would use whatever ability I have to serve people. I think lots of us feel like that – we want to contribute positively to society and support the people around us – but maybe we don’t necessarily look to politics as an avenue to achieve this. Back then, in the aftermath of the Financial Crisis, I didn’t have much faith in the political system.

    My understanding evolved in the years after I returned home. It took time to find the type of work I wanted to do. I had studied physics and worked in finance for several years, so transitioning to people-focused work was not easily done. That was a difficult time, full of uncertainty which, after time, can lead you to doubt the path you’re on. If anyone told me then I would go on to spend five years working closely with Mary Robinson, I’d have thought they were mad.

    But that’s how it turned out. My work with the Mary Robinson Foundation – Climate Justice shaped my understanding of political engagement, and the right to participate in society. A focus of our work was ensuring that people with lived experience of the impacts of climate change had their voices heard during international negotiations around climate and sustainable development. I had the opportunity to listen to, and learn from, many conversations where community leaders, mostly women, told their truth to world leaders and decision-makers. I grew to understand the importance of meaningful participation in addressing injustice. In this time I also became involved in projects related to homelessness, Direct Provision and mental health.

    The injustices that exist in Ireland and elsewhere will only be overcome by communities engaging directly with the decision-making processes that affect our lives. Similarly, to tackle climate change and build a sustainable, safe future, we will have to ensure that anyone can participate meaningfully in the design of action, and benefit from sustainable development. So in answer to the question, I am not motivated to enter politics, I am motivated to play my part in addressing the serious challenges of our time. I see participation as fundamental to addressing these challenges and that is why I am running in the local elections.

    Are there specifics polices for your local area that you are focusing on?

    We are hoping to secure a voice for the Phibsborough community on Dublin City Council. Due to adjustments to the Local Area boundaries, 2019 is the first time all of Phibsborough will be voting in the same constituency. This gives us an important opportunity to address a lack of long-term investment in the area.

    I want to ensure the redevelopment of Dalymount Park goes ahead. It offers a wonderful opportunity to significantly enhance community life in the area as the plans includes cultural and recreational facilities. A concerted political push is required to ensure it receives the funding it requires. I also want to address the issue of traffic in Phibsborough. Despite relatively low levels of car ownership, the community is dominated by the roads that divide it. I want to work to deliver infrastructure improvements that ensure that pedestrians and cyclists can move safely and effectively. I want to see Bus Connects and Metro North developed in as inclusive a manner as possible to avoid potentially regressive impacts on the area.

    I will also work to ensure the community start seeing the benefits of climate action through renewable energy cooperatives that can reduce heating and electricity bills, as well as carbon footprints.

    We are taking note of lots of other issues coming up on the doorsteps, including illegal dumping which suggests a lack of pride in the area that we aim to address.

    Another concern is the prevalence of anti-social behaviour and crime. This needs to be addressed firstly with enhanced community policing, but also through development and enhancement of youth services.

    I also want to help create a local food cooperative along with more allotments and urban gardens which will enhance biodiversity.

    Why did you choose to run in the local elections rather than a general election?

    They are different very different roles. My decision to run in the local elections is based on a belief that local government has a very important role to play in mobilising the action required to create a fairer, more inclusive and sustainable world.

    I was in New York in September 2015 for the adoption of the United Nation’s 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development. The 2030 Agenda was signed by 193 countries and applies to all. Through it, world leaders committed to eradicating poverty, addressing inequality, and protecting our planet for present and future generations.

    During the celebrations at the United Nations Headquarters I remember feeling a million miles away from the communities that this agenda is supposed to help. I felt the ambition was not matched by a concrete understanding of how ownership would be passed to regular people and communities. We must have communities around the world that are empowered with the information, tools and resources to implement the seventeen Sustainable Development Goals contained within the 2030 Agenda. Only then will we be able to create the world free of suffering and want which the 2030 Agenda calls for.

    The past three decades have seen the edge being taken off community agency in Ireland with people encouraged to view themselves as individual consumers, rather than citizens and community members. But that spirit still exists and is ready to build a fairer, sustainable and more compassionate society, it just needs to be set free.

    I love living in Phibsborough because I’m surrounded by people who dedicate their time and energy to their community. There is an abundance of grassroots organisations, actively enhancing social, cultural and environmental wellbeing. Even Bohs is a collective, member-owned football club run by volunteers. It’s remarkable!

    Local government should be facilitating and building on this active engagement. Together we can channel the agency that exists within our communities and develop a new approach to local governance in Ireland; one based on deliberative democracy, where people participate meaningfully in the decision-making processes, to the benefit of everybody.

    To address poverty, inequality and climate change, we must start with local solutions, building the world we want from the ground up.

    How do you intend to get yourself elected?

    I want this campaign to be inclusive and participative, and we are planning a few community-based direct-action projects that will hopefully encourage people to consider the role of local government in their lives.

    Traditional canvassing also plays an important role. A great team has been coming out with me, as we seek to understand the specific needs of the community.

    This is a grassroots campaign. We would love for people to join in and take part – even if they have no prior experience in this kind of thing. The more people we have, the more we can do. We want to have fun doing it too. People can get involved by messaging us through Facebook or sending me an email on smccabe@outlook.ie.

    How do you overcome voter apathy?

    I’m not sure I have the resources to address that as an individual candidate. I want to avoid the type of cynical campaigning that I think contributes to voter apathy. We have a set of principles that govern our campaign which include taking the people we meet, and their concerns, seriously; avoiding echo chambers; not stealing ideas from, or taking credit for, community initiatives; not undermining other candidates; and ensuring complete transparency. We are publishing the campaign incomings and outgoings live online. My hope is that constituents will recognise our approach has integrity and that this will encourage participation in local politics.

    Why did you choose to run as an independent rather seeking the nomination of one of the established political parties?

    I don’t really see the point of political parties at a local level. Local government should be about empowering communities by electing representatives to the council that give them a direct channel to the decision-making table. Party politics is the antithesis of this. As a member of a political party, I think it seems inevitable that, on occasion, it would be necessary to put the interests of the party ahead of the community. That just seems wrong to me.  I want to see community-led local government, where deliberative approaches are used to seek common ground, sharing the benefits and burdens of administration across the city.

    Which of the parties would your ideas tend to align you with and are there any political parties that you would not work with?

    That is hard to answer. I prefer to see public representatives as individuals and decide how best to work with them based on the substance of the proposals they wish to bring forward. Unfortunately however, especially at local level, party politics can cloud decision-making processes and risk obscuring priorities.

    Which writers have inspired your political ideas?

    That’s a difficult question. I don’t sit around reading books on political theory. I’m inspired by writers like John Steinbeck, Boris Pasternack, Amartya Sen and Maya Angelou. I just finished reading Fredrick Douglas’s Narrative which is a remarkable account of unrelenting courage in the face of oppression in all its forms. Musicians like Luke Kelly, Woody Guthrie, Harry Bellefonte, Dominic Behan, Kris Kristofferson, Ewan MacColl and Paul Robeson, and their life stories, have shaped my political outlook as much as writers.

    What is the burning political question of our time?

    I suppose the simple answer is how are we going to muster the political courage to tackle climate change. The more complex answer is how to build a movement based on solidarity to secure climate justice. Climate change confronts us with our interdependence. No country or leader alone can change course. If we do not find a way of including everyone in a transition to a green, low carbon economy, then we are facing an existential crisis.

    The impacts could occur a lot sooner than most people are anticipating, and there is no technological silver bullet to save us. We need solidarity – locally, nationally and globally. The children’s climate strike gives me hope. They are fighting for their future. Our communities and our leaders must listen to them.

    What further ambitions do you have for your political career?

    Right now, I’m only concerned with running an inclusive and participatory campaign until the May 24th local election. Let’s see what happens then. Whether successful or not, my ambition is to continue working with the community to play my part in addressing the challenges we face. I have no grand plan!

    If you were Taoiseach for the day what would you do?

    Not much that can be achieved in a single day. I would probably pay a surprise visit to a Direct Provision centre and then spend the night typing up detailed notes of my conversations there for whoever was taking up the office after me.

    We rely on contributions to keep Cassandra Voices going.

  • Kaleida’s Vesper Wood on her First Solo Album ‘Instar’

    C.V.: Your album is entitled ‘Instar’, meaning ‘a phase between two periods of moulting’, which might indicate that you are at a vulnerable stage in your personal life. Can you explain a little about this?

    C.W.: I chose the title less to mean vulnerable, and more to indicate growth and transformation…and the process of presenting myself as a solo artist … shedding an old skin … celebrating eternal change… Actually I first came across the word in a Rebecca Solnit book called A Field Guide to Getting Lost. She wrote: ‘Instar describes something both celestial and ingrained, something heavenly and disastrous, and perhaps change is like that, a buried star, oscillating between near and far.’[i]

    Instar album cover – photo by Marisa Marulli, album artwork design by Haris Fazlani.

    You enjoyed global success as one part of electro-pop duo Kaleida. Does this solo album project indicate that you are taking a separate path, or will your collaboration with Cicely Goulder continue?

    It will continue! We’re working on another album at the moment.

    How has it been to be a female duo in a business that tends to be male-dominated?

    Sometimes frustrating (we frequently get asked what our producer’s name is, where is HE based etc.) but we have been pretty successful in creating a protective environment for ourselves by sticking together and maintaining creative control over everything we put out. Sometimes this means the process takes longer and we have to learn along the way, but we have avoided being ‘shaped’ by a male producer, or really by any men in the industry. We’ve put together a really supportive team around us too, of both men and women, who respect us for the quality of our work.

    During that period which gig did you enjoy the most?

    Probably opening for Alt-J in Prague. It was a beautiful evening, sun-set, and the Czech love to dance, no inhibtions…a great, open-hearted crowd.

    How would you distinguish the Instar sound from Kaleida’s?

    It’s more stripped back, less electronic, more organic, raw. I kept things pretty close to the demo’s as I wanted the tracks to retain an intimate, un-refined, transparent feel.

    Growing up what kind of music did you listen to, and how has that informed your song-writing career?

    Lots of church choral music, as I was in the church choir in quite a traditional church. Then I had a phase of being obsessed with old Appalachian ballads, the kinds that were discovered buried deep within the mountain communities, that had hardly changed since the 1600’s and 1700’s when they were brought over from the British Isles. Old, medieval sounding music. After that I had a long long love affair with Bjork, The Knife, Scandinavian electronic music … still do I guess!

    Are you also influenced by poets and other writers in your choice of themes or lyrics?

    Yes, I get influenced by stories, identities, atmospheres I read about in novels or even in the news. One of the tracks on Instar, Carson, was inspired by Carson McCullers, who wrote the Heart is a Lonely Hunter. That book had a lonely, southern world that really got under my skin, having grown up partially in Kentucky. It has a sadness to it, and of course an outsider appeal, that resonated.

    Photo for single ‘descend’- by Linda Mason, single artwork design by Haris Fazlani.

    What advice would you offer to anyone who aspires to a career in music?

    Be recklessly driven and passionate about making music, and just keep going at all costs.

    You have enjoyed a parallel career in the environmental field. Has an elevated awareness of the natural world exercised a creative influence on you?

    I’m sure in some ways. Sometimes I think my link to the environment is more emotional than anything – a feeling for the beauty of it and the painful knowledge that we are destroying it so bluntly.

    To what extent is your art political?

    I’m not a very political person, but I do get pretty emotional about women’s rights, and what we’re doing to the environment. Sometimes these ideas trickle into the tracks. I battled a lot with my reproductive health in the last few years, and I had a lot of anger about the lack of awareness of women’s health issues in our society, which I was perceiving as symptomatic of our lack of equality. I think little boys should be raised to understand and respect women’s bodies, as should women of course – there is a whole miraculous but delicate and time-bound system of procreation going on in our bodies, and people should speak up more about honoring it. I’d like to see men support women more on their biology, instead of being afraid of it, or ignoring it…I encountered a lot of that along the way anyway. You’ll find a lot of my feelings about it in Instar…

    Where do you see yourself in ten years?

    A couple of albums down, several tours in, living between a city and the wilderness (the dream) with a loving family!

    Do you think you will ever make it over to Ireland to play a gig?!

    I would love to!! One day.

    www.vesper-wood.com
    Photo by Imani Givertz.

    [i] Rebecca Solnit, A Field Guide to Getting Lost, New York, Penguin, p.83

  • Who did pay that Restaurant Bill Mr Varadkar?

    Following an account of a New York banquet in a recent biography of Leo Varadkar[i], we submitted a Freedom of Information Request (FOI) to the Department of the Taoiseach. We are seriously concerned at the close proximity between the Taoiseach and leading Irish journalists, including one of the authors of Leo: A Very Modern Taoiseach, Phillip Ryan, who is deputy political editor across the titles of the generally pro-government Independent Newspaper group.

    That book revealed that the ‘Taoiseach has made a virtue out of wining and dining journalists who accompany him on international trade missions’, believing, ‘it is important to spend time with them socially’. Perhaps most troubling is that the authors seem entirely unashamed about spilling the beans on one of these junkets.

    On one New York jolly, ‘More than twenty guests, who included journalists from print and broadcast media, joined the Taoiseach and foreign affairs officials for a five-course, three-hour-long meal’. The authors, at least one of whom seems to have been present, recall the guests devouring ‘French onion soup, foie gras, filet mignon and mushroom ravioli dusted with black truffles’, followed by further drinks in Fitzpatrick’s Manhattan Hotel in Midtown.[ii] Yum yum yum.

    Our FOI sought, ‘records of department expenditures from an Taoiseach’s visit to America this year in Boucherie Restaurant and FitzPatrick’s Manhattan Hotel, both in New York on March 16th and 17th, 2018.’ We were intrigued to know who paid the bill in a restaurant where the ‘Butcher’s Block’ of 16oz filet mignon, 16oz, ‘hang steak’ and 16oz ‘bone in New York strip’ costs an eye-watering $205, and that’s leaving aside its environmental impact.[iii]

    According to the officer, the department holds no record of any such expenditures. But it is hard to believe that the Taoiseach stumped up, or that journalists were asked to put their hands in their pockets, a notoriously rare occurrence. We are now flummoxed, and invite any journalist or government official present to let us know who paid the bill by emailing admin@cassandravoices.com.

    ‘Tubs’ entertains Varadkar on the ‘Late Late’

    Fresh from selling as many toys as possible on the Late Late Toy Show, amid paeans ‘to those less fortunate this Christmas’, Ryan Tubridy interviewed Leo Varadkar on the ‘Late Late Show’ on December 11th. At the recent Fine Gael Ardfheis Varadkar pledged to reduce income tax cuts if he is re-elected Taoiseach[iv], which will presumably increase toy sales next Christmas.

    To date, we have enjoyed no success with any of our FOI enquiries into Tubridy’s third party dealings. RTÉ’s solution to the problematic situation of employees and contractors receiving payments from third parties has been to introduce a Catch-22 rule whereby potentially damaging material is withheld if it is commercial sensitive.[v]

    Tubridy previously offered this plug of the Varadkar biography, enthusing that it, ‘offers the reader and voter a fascinating insight into an intriguing and public figure that none of us really know. With incisive background detail coupled with up-to-date analysis, this is a very welcome account of a private man in the most public role in Ireland.’

    On his light entertainment show, Tubridy went through the motions of grilling the Taoiseach, demanding whether the HSE is fit for purpose, to which Varadkar replied: ‘Not as the organisation it is now,’ intimating ‘structural change’, a move to ‘slim down’ the organisation and bring ‘a lot more autonomy’, which sounds suspiciously like an impending privatisation. But it was all soon sweetness and light between RTE’s leading man and the top of the political class,

    In a departure from the Irish Times’s usual Varadkar veneration, especially the use of cutesy images obviously supplied by government press office, Peter Crawley offered this assessment:

    If, like any number of its international guests, you had no idea what kind of a programme The Late Late Show is, last night’s broadcast was as good an introduction as any.

    What kind of talk show, for instance, would interview the leader of the country as its first guest, as a warm-up act for two crooners and a comedian?[vi]

    ‘Murph’ shows up for the team

    Meanwhile, Varadkar’s loyal fixer, and founding member of the legendary Five-A-Side Club of Young Fine Gael Turks, Eoghan Murphy was before the Dáil, opposing the Solidarity-People Before Profit Anti-Eviction Bill, which includes a ban on renovating a property as grounds for ending a lease.

    Murphy maintained that the government is showing a clear commitment to social housing, but his sympathies clearly lie with embattled ‘small’ landlords, bemoaning, ‘We are losing landlords in this country, it is a fact.’

    He cited the statistic that eighty-five percent of landlords own one or two properties, but this tells us nothing about the proportion of the rental sector held in those circumstances. Moreover, a single property could be a four-bedroom house in his Dublin Bay South constituency costing €6,000 per month;[vii] lies, damn lies and statistics, as Mark Twain put it.

    Murphy’s claim that it is ‘wrong to demonise these people because they are providing homes for other people’ is a subtle abuse of the English language. A landlord does not ‘provide’ for a tenant, providing for someone implies generosity, not offering a property in exchange for a rent, which in Dublin, for too long, has been left to ‘market forces’, and the gumption of gouging landlords.

    The rhetoric about protecting the small guy – beloved of neo-liberals the world over – affords protection to owners of multiple properties, who are increasing their assets, as Murphy’s speech concedes. His political colours are revealed in this passage which will anger anyone caught in an impossible rental situation:

    We have to be very careful in interfering more than we are at the moment. We have to make sure that we are not placing extra burdens on these small landlords. And we have to make sure that we are not prohibiting someone from selling a property that they own when they might need to sell that property for perfectly legitimate reasons in their own lives. They may not have the money to re-compensate the person living in the property at that point.[viii]

    God help anyone renting in Dublin at this time, because this government’s sympathies (and Eoghan Murphy’s it would appear) lie with the wealthiest five percent in the country, who own over forty percent of its wealth, with eighty-five per cent of that held in property and land. We suggest a more important priority: to make sure everyone has a roof over their head.  Unfortunately many of the leading journalists in this country, who should be pursuing this injustice, are themselves dining at the top table.

    Did you know that Cassandra Voices has just published a print annual containing our best articles, stories, poems and photography from 2018? It’s a big book! To find out where you can purchase it, or order it, email admin@cassandravoices.com

    [i] Frank Armstrong, ‘Leo-Liberal’, Cassandra Voices, October 5th, 2018.

    [ii] Phillip Ryan and Niall O’Connor, Leo: Leo Varadkar – A Very Modern Taoiseach, London, Biteback Publishing, 2018, p.321-322

    [iii] Boucherie, New York, Menu, http://boucherie.nyc/menu/, accessed 18/12/18.

    [iv] Juno McEnroe, ‘Varadkar pledges income tax cuts if re-elected as Taoiseach’, Irish Examiner, 17th of November, 2018.

    [v] Frank Armstrong, ‘RTÉ Says: ‘Stars’ In Their Own Cars’, Cassandra Voice, July 1st, 2018.

    [vi] Peter Crawley, ‘Leo Varadkar on the Late Late Show: Taoiseach has become ‘CEO’, Ireland ‘the organisation’, Irish Times, 8th of December, 2018.

    [vii] Daft.ie, https://www.daft.ie/dublin/houses-for-rent/ranelagh/dartmouth-road-ranelagh-dublin-1858718/, accessed 18/12/18.

    [viii] ‘Deputy Eoghan Murphy – Private Members’ Business – 12.12.2018’, YouTube,   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z1RRw0lM9iI, accessed 18/12/18.

  • Ryan Tubridy’s Ethical Flop

    Ryan Tubridy is the highest paid broadcaster in Ireland’s state broadcaster, RTÉ, earning close to half a million euro per annum. He presents an hour long radio show each weekday morning on Radio 1, as well as the station’s flagship Friday-night television show, The Late Late Show.

    To many he is the public face of the broadcaster – although he is a contractor rather than a direct employee for tax purposes – his mug regularly appearing on the cover of the in-house RTÉ Guide, the widest circulating magazine in the country.

    For these reasons, we believe a high ethical bar should be raised on potential conflicts of interest with his commercial and political endorsements. Any appearance of impropriety should be excluded, as others are likely to follow his lead. Alas, what we see is a Tubridy Flop, which like Dick Fobsbury’s legendary technique looks wrong, but does not appear to breach any rules.

    Unfortunately, because RTÉ refuses to disclose details of third party commercial arrangements its leading ‘stars’ enter into, we are compelled to make enquiries where there is a suggestion of inappropriate dealings. This comes, however, with the significant proviso that the officer may deny an application for such information where it is deemed advantageous to competitors, might result in financial loss to contractors, and potentially ‘prejudice RTÉ contractual negotiations in respect of future engagements with independent contractors’.

    Dick Fobsbury, no relation to Ryan Tubridy.

    Our recent enquiries into Ryan Tubridy emanate from his close connections to the motor industry, which we connected to a surprising attack on cyclists, and past receipt of a free car.

    The sight of Ryan Tubridy on the cover of the September edition of the RTÉ Guide sitting atop what is obviously a Vespa motor cycle appeared to be an example of ‘product placement’. As a result we submitted a  Freedom of Information Request to the relevant office in RTÉ was filed, reading as follows:

    I am requesting records (if they exist) of payments or payments in kind from Piaggio (the manufacturer of Vespa) or any of its agents or subsidiaries in Ireland to Ryan Tubridy over the course of 2018. I am making this request in response to photographs and an article that appeared in the September edition of the RTÉ Guide featuring Tubridy on his Vespa with the logo prominently displayed(see attached).

    Further to this I am seeking records (if they exist) of payments or payments in kind from Piaggio (the manufacturer of Vespa) or any of its agents or subsidiaries in Ireland to the RTÉ Guide arising from the same article.

    I believe it is in the public interest for any such inducements to RTÉ employees or contractors, or the in-house publication featuring same to be in the public domain.

    More photos from the shoot.

    The following email was received in reply:

    Dear [Sir],

    Thanks for your email yesterday. I have made inquiries and been advised that the Vespa belongs to a person in HR here in RTÉ. It was parked outside the building and the photographer just asked to use it as a prop for the photoshoot.

    On that basis it seems that your request is unlikely to turn up any records. Do you wish to proceed with your FOI request? It’s not a problem either way – I just wanted to pass on the information I received.

    Kind regards,

    […]

    FOI Officer, RTÉ .

    We chose to persevere with the application. On September .. we received a formal reply stating:

    I have contacted several individuals in RTÉ by email and in person to establish if the records you sought exist. I have been advised that they do not. Mr Tubridy does not have relationship with Piaggio or any of the agents or subsidiaries in Ireland where he receives or received payments or payments in kind.

    I have also been advised that there is no relationship between Piaggio or any of its agents or subsidiaries in Ireland and the RTE Guide.

    …

    As I outlined to you in an email on September 4th I was advised that the Vespa which was used in the photoshoot for the RTE Guide was actually owned by a member of staff in the Human Resources Department. The person was asked if it could be used as a prop and they agreed.

    This communication throws up a few questions. First, how could no one be aware that a commercial brand was so obviously apparent in the photos? Secondly, can the public have confidence in the Freedom of Information process within RTÉ , considering the aforementioned proviso?

    It is notable that when it came to the online version of the article the picture with the Vespa has been doctored to exclude the motor cycle.

    Political Connections

    Ryan Tubridy’s name crops up in another article published in this edition of Cassandra Voices, with his name, along with those of RTÉ’s Miriam O’Callaghan and TV3’s Ursula Hannigan, appearing on the back of the recent publication Leo: Leo Varadkar – A Very Modern Taoiseach by Philip Ryan and Niall O’Connor. The book is by most measures a homage to the leaderships qualities of Taoiseach Varadkar, and published by Bitback Publishing a London-based house, owned by Tory donor Lord Ashcroft.

    Tubridy enthuses that the book:

    offers the reader and voter a fascinating insight into an intriguing and public figure that none of us really know. With incisive background detail coupled with up-to-date analysis, this is a very welcome account of a private man in the most public role in Ireland.

    This does not appear controversial, but we question whether it is appropriate for RTÉ’s leading man (and, arguably, woman) to endorse a book, one of whose authors works for the government; at least in a form that is not part of a serious review.

    It surely involved the publisher contacting Ryan Tubridy, and requesting a few words on the books. It seems fair to ask whether Tubridy received anything in return.

    In the original interview for the RTÉ Guide Tubridy lists Joseph Heller’s Catch 22 as one of his favourite books. A Catch 22 has been defined as a problematic situation for which the only solution is denied by a circumstance inherent in the problem or by a rule. Similarly, RTÉ solution to the problematic situation of employees and contractors receiving payments from third parties is to introduce a rule whereby potentially damaging material is withheld if it is commercial sensitive.

    Until RTÉ offers transparency regarding its code of conduct, and third party financial relationships, these questions will linger. Notwithstanding the Catch 22, if our readers come across further potential conflicts of interests we would invite you to email the relevant officer foi@rte, and send us any response (to admin@cassandravoices.com) you receive.