A bowl of shamrock won’t do in Pyongyang
EVEN with the best will in the world, it is almost impossible not to be cynical about the political classes. We have all seen too much in the way of evasion, U-turns and sheer inconsistency for that. And that’s before we get to the really unforgivable stuff.
That said, I have never signed up to the school of thought that every last one of our public representatives is in it for their own advancement and self-enrichment.
I’m not stupid enough to think that there aren’t some TDs who are on the make, of course, but I don’t actually believe that is the principal motivation in the majority of cases.
Sadly, the reality is probably even more depressing. My theory has always been that practically every single individual who seeks political office is cut from a different cloth than the rest of us.
By my reckoning, they fall into two separate, but related, categories.
The first group is made up of people who simply like being in charge and telling others what to do, even if they bring very little to the table themselves.
The other group consists of punters who think they know better than the rest of us and, as a result, are convinced they have a duty to ‘serve’ the public. I’m sure you can think of countless examples of both types.
Very occasionally, though, along comes a politician who fits neither mould. Even though John Halligan’s political views don’t necessarily chime with my own, I’ve always liked the cut of his jib. For one thing, he struck me from the beginning as his own man. The fact that he previously held down a job in the real world also counts massively in his favour. We have far too many career politicians with little to no experience of life outside the parliamentary bubble. Meanwhile, there are even greater numbers who did nothing more than dabble in the family farm, pub or auctioneering business before entering the Dáil.
It is also to Mr Halligan’s credit that his interests extend beyond the political realm. Even if his views on the existence of extraterrestrial life might be a little off-the-wall for some tastes, at least they show an inquiring mind.
Or so I thought. Because his plans to travel to North Korea for peace talks – along with fellow Independent Alliance members Finian McGrath and Shane Ross – suggest that he is, in fact, away with the fairies. As this newspaper pointed out on Saturday, we are in Skibbereen Eagle territory here.
I’m still trying to figure out if this is the Three Stooges’ idea of a joke. Given that Kim Jong-un is engaged in sabre-rattling of the highest order with the world’s most powerful nation, what makes the trio think a delegation of mid-ranking politicians from lil’ ol’ Ireland can sort it all out?
Do they plan to present the great man with a bowl of shamrock and a shillelagh to show that they’re acting in good faith?
Unless I am mistaken, Mr Halligan and his sidekicks seem to have missed the point that the North Korean leader has all the traits of a particularly evil Bond villain. Except, unlike 007’s adversaries, there is no sign of him getting his comeuppance yet.
We all know what happened to the late Otto Warmbier. Getting 15 years’ hard labour on trumped-up (and, quite possibly, bogus) charges of attempting to steal a propaganda poster was bad enough, but the sentence turned out to be the least of his problems.
As Taoiseach Leo Varadkar’s comments indicate, there is no reason why a similarly grisly fate couldn’t await Mr Halligan. Even his Workers’ Party connections could prove insufficient to save him.
Like I say, John Halligan appears to be refreshingly free of the character defects that afflict most politicians. But if he seriously thinks he can talk sense into the grotesque Mr Kim over a couple of bottles of stout, then he is suffering from major delusions of grandeur.