We were robbed by the Hand of God, but we've got far more important matters to think about, writes BREDA O'BRIEN
WE WERE flying, on our way to great things, and then we were robbed. Sound familiar? I wonder whether some of the outrage generated by the so-called Hand of God incident is because it rubs salt in recent, still weeping wounds. Ireland was flying, and then we were robbed by the bankers and developers. The big boys get to continue playing the game, but we are left licking our wounds.
There are calls for changes in regulations, but the shocking thing is the general acceptance, especially among players, that it is the referee’s job to catch you, not the players’ job to be ethical. We rage about the bad example given to young people by a player who is on a ridiculous salary and who has all sorts of other lucrative deals going on. Oh, it does all sound horribly familiar.
And we are going to protest, very, very loudly, but without much hope of success. It is a bit like the planned public service protest next Tuesday. Many of the protesters believe cuts are inescapable, just as soccer fans believe Fifa is not for turning.
They are marching to express their anger that mismanagement of the country has been spun so that it is now, apparently, the public service’s fault. While accepting that reform is needed, they are marching to show they will not supinely accept being the fall guy.
The sad thing is that the protest against Thierry Henry’s cheating hand has united the entire country. However, the Tuesday protest will probably serve to exacerbate the division between the public and private sectors.
Two young women teachers whom I know were having a drink a few months ago when two men, a solicitor and a vet, came to chat to them. Things went well until the subject of career came up. When the women said they were teachers, the solicitor became irate, declared his salary was paying their wages, and left. The vet, after an awkward few moments, decided to follow his friend.
The solicitor was not drunk, just apparently oblivious to the fact that even if he attended a fee-paying school, his own teachers’ wages were paid for by public money. The logic of his position is that basic rights such as education should only be available to those who can afford them, and that teachers should not be paid from the public purse. And in what sense was he paying their wages, any more than the women were paying their own wages, in that they presumably are all taxpayers? Even if an extreme example, this kind of rhetoric has become more common.
As a teacher for more than two decades, I have watched teachers move from a position of relative respect to one where we practically have to justify our existence.
Certainly, we have long holidays, and enviable pension plans. However, the opportunities for promotion are very limited, and the lifetime earnings of a teacher are far, far lower than many other professionals.
Before bank shares took a nose dive, many people in the private sector were comfortably able to fund their own pensions. (Incidentally, teachers have always contributed to their pensions, long before the pension levy.) However, there is no point in trying to persuade people that teaching is not a cushy number. Those that have friends or family who teach already know this, and those who consider teachers to be parasites will not change their minds anyway.
Public services are essential for a civilised society. Despite all the rhetoric about punitive taxes, it is doubtful any individual’s taxes go near paying for what we get in return, in everything from infrastructure to education, water and schools. Certainly, many parts of the public service need urgent reform and I accept the argument that public servants must bear some of the pain. Yet, it becomes hard to take when I hear some of the Government’s announcements.
Take, for example, Minister for Education Batt O’Keeffe’s announcement on laptops for primary school children. I am an avid supporter of technology in education. In an ideal world, I would love every child to have a netbook in a school with broadband access, to have textbooks in electronic format, with interactive whiteboards in all classrooms.
But I hear this announcement, and the first thing I wonder is whether the €150 million promised for information technology is actually the €252 million promised in 2007, which never materialised? Is it a cut repackaged as a new initiative? Or will it be funded by the €140 million earmarked for capital expenditure on schools which will not be spent this year?
Then, I wonder, who will service the computers when they break down? Will unfortunate colleagues be dragged out of class to give impromptu training? When feeling really cynical, I wonder will the computers end up on eBay, taken by the Government to pay for the next €4 billion in cuts?
I am not a cynical person. Yet, when I look at children’s needs, I cannot see that laptops are the first priority. For example, if the promised technology ever materialises, there will be children shielding laptops from drips in leaky prefabs. Would the money be better used to help the one in three children in disadvantaged areas who still has literacy problems? Or to target for help the children who will once again slide beneath the poverty line, threatened with cuts in social welfare, child benefit and book grants, not to mention rises in things such as prescription fees?
Yes, Thierry Henry robbed us. However, some of our own people robbed us in a far worse fashion, and instead of uniting, we are all busy fighting each other. Certainly, reform the public service, but let us not descend to demonising our neighbours as we do so.