We’re a fine bunch, so let’s end the sycophancy
FIRST things first. Everyone is agreed that this country faces major challenges in terms of the housing crisis, the health system and various other matters.
None of these issues can or should be ignored. But it would be very easy to lull ourselves into a state of collective depression by dwelling on the negatives all the time.
So let’s remember that there is much to be proud of in Ireland. We have an attractive, cosmopolitan capital city that has considerably more going for it now than it did during my youth.
Nor, of course, is there any shortage of picturesque and unspoilt landscapes. For a small nation we have always punched well above our weight in terms of literature, the arts and even sport.
Probably the most important thing in our favour, though, is that we are a resilient bunch. We have proved that beyond doubt down through the generations, not least of all during the tough years of austerity that followed the economic crash of a decade ago.
So we should be able to stand proud and look anyone in the eye. Unfortunately, however, we seem to have a national inferiority complex that leads us to constantly seek approval on the global stage.
Think about it. We’re always giving ourselves a clap on the back, but it is only ever in a pathetic bid to persuade the rest of the world to like us. I’m not sure, for instance, that anyone really buys the notion that the Irish are the friendliest people on the planet. Trust me, I’ve been in plenty of places across this fair land where the fabled céad míle fáilte was decidedly thin on the ground. Nothing will convince me that we are any more welcoming as a people than, say, the English or the Australians or the Dutch. But we try nonstop to kid ourselves and everyone else that we are. As the old saying goes, self-praise is no praise.
Nor, for that matter, am I taken in by claims that the so-called Green Army is made up of the most popular football fans on the planet. Granted, it is only fair to say that Republic of Ireland supporters have never had a reputation for getting into violent scrapes. But I don’t for one moment imagine that the locals start to break out the bunting whenever they see them descending in their hordes.
PERHAPS our desire to be liked is some sort of a post-colonial hangover. Not only do we talk ourselves up to an embarrassing extent, we are also quick to tug the forelock in the direction of our perceived betters.
There were two notable examples of that during the past few days. According to reports of Hillary Clinton’s visit to TCD on Friday, she was given a standing ovation as soon as she walked into the Edmund Burke Lecture Hall.
My question is this: why? Unless I missed something, I don’t think Mrs Clinton has yet delivered world peace or discovered a cure for cancer. So I fail to see why everyone was clapping like a herd of performing seals.
Was it because of the ludicrous narrative that the former First Lady is an important cheerleader for the empowerment of women? I sincerely hope not. Everything about her – personal life, financial dealings, political career, the whole lot – screams that her principal interest is the empowerment of Hillary Rodham Clinton.
So please, if you don’t mind, spare us the rapturous reception. Look, by all means give her a thundering round of applause if she happens to make a particularly inspirational speech or say something of actual significance. But doing so before she has even opened her mouth just comes across as needy.
Mind you, our politicians are every bit as bad. There was something faintly nauseating about the way they kowtowed to European Commission president Jean-Claude Juncker during his two-day trip here. I wouldn’t be in the least bit surprised to hear that Leo Varadkar stood up on his desk and sang a few verses of Danny Boy for the great man’s entertainment.
Of course, it would be foolish in the extreme to deliberately rub Monsieur Juncker up the wrong way in the current climate. But it shouldn’t be forgotten that there is a fine line between playing the game and starting to look like a pathetic sycophant.
No-one likes a crawler. And nobody respects them either.