As crisis gripped The Irish Times on Tuesday, I found myself turning to religion. I had no choice in the matter: in the midst of all the gloom, the next day's paper still had to be written. And due to an unfortunate clash, I had to leave in the middle of the union's briefing on the cut-backs to cover the conferring of an honorary doctorate on Cardinal Connell. The Cardinal is a great student of philosophy, an interest many of us in The Irish Times have just taken up. But there was added relevance in the event because of the controversy surrounding his contribution to a new book about the "Irish Soul", debate which continues to rage across our letters page unchecked, threatening to engulf smaller, outlying controversies, such as cyclist safety.
The conferral at Dublin Castle was entirely free of controversy, however. It was also, strictly speaking, an academic event, making my column intro seem in retrospect a little cheap. But the ceremony had all the solemnity and many of the trappings of a religious service: from the "processional" music (Mozart) with which the conferees were paraded in, to the "recessional" music (Haydn) which saw them out.
Anyway, during a dull moment in the citations, I found myself reflecting on how the downturn in the country's economic fortunes may change the way we think. The subject was broached in this supplement recently, in a feature predicting the eclipse of the Celtic T*g*r by the "Celtic Soul". And while the latter term surely sounds too much like the title of a compilation folk album to catch on, I was struck by a quote in the piece from a consumer expert, who picked religion as his top "investment" tip for a newly uncertain world.
That choice of language reminded me that, a while back, in more carefree times, this column called for increased competition between the State's two main religion providers. There was a severe lack of evangelical activism south of the Border, I complained, and while nobody wanted door-to-door callers at all hours, the odd letter along the lines of "Dear potential customer. We value your soul. That's why we'd like to introduce you to our special new savings scheme", would be welcome. Whereas the main churches had apparently settled into a "cosy cartel" in which one had the majority of market share, while the other concentrated on a premium service, with extra leg-room and better hymns.
Obviously, in these chastening times, I would now like to apologise to the churches for the tone of that article. (Having said which, my airline analogy was uncannily echoed during the recent controversy by the Cardinal's comment that his Protestant counterpart, Archbishop Empey, was not a theological "high flyer". Indeed, after years of the churches being nice to each other, the Cardinal's comments about the opposition seemed on a par with one of Michael O'Leary's attacks on Aer Lingus; although it's a long time since the Church of Ireland was a State-sponsored body, and there's been massive rationalisation since then.) With the prospect of an emergency landing for the economy now likely, I agree with the consumer expert that anyone with even basic flying skills will find themselves more sought after. Hard times force us to re-examine our beliefs, and renew lapsed subscriptions. Indeed, whatever about churches, attendance at NUJ meetings is already well up. And the respective institutions have more in common than non-journalists might think. Local branches of the union are called "chapels", presided over by a "father" or "mother"; and the membership of ours will be singing off the same "hymn-sheet" in the coming months.
The spirit of unity among us was typified by the attitude of a colleague who said that, if there had to be jobs cuts, people over five foot eight should be first to go. OK, that was just his (little) joke - personally, I think five foot 11-and-a-half is a more realistic cut-off. But what I really meant to say is that there is a determination among us both to protect jobs and to preserve the standards of a great newspaper fallen among accountants. The professionalism under pressure of Irish Times staff is beyond question: even as we read management's grim briefing document on Tuesday, many of us were secretly checking it for grammar and syntax.
And that's why, even though I'm not in the humour, I'm professionally obliged to provide a neat ending to this column, without resorting to tasteless puns, such as "there'll be no place for Haydn now". So I'll just say that in the economy as a whole, the recessional music (Celtic Soul String Band) is playing, and many of us face an uncertain future. The only consolation is that, as Cardinal Connell and Archbishop Empey would agree, we always did.
fmcnally@irish-times.ie
