Columns
|
Back
On The Bandwagon
The other day I ended up stranded outside an industrial
estate in Newlands Cross. Deciding to be an eco-friendly citizen, and
get a bus home, I stood on the side of the main thoroughfare to Dublin,
at, in fact, a bus stop. It had no timetables, but possessed all of the
required signs and symbols. I assumed I was doing the right thing.
After a three quarter of an hour wait in the waning afternoon light, teetering
around on the kind of stupid shoes that girls need to wear to ensure career
progression nowadays, there was no bus in sight. I started to get a bit
concerned, especially as the road is a tad isolated for a lone female
(you may think I'm being paranoid, but after three assaults I'm becoming
a lot more cautious). Finally, a coach pulled up, 'Dublin' clearly displayed
on its windshield, and disgorged a couple of passengers. I hopped aboard,
filled with relief, joyously waving some Euro at the driver, who turned
round, and snarled nastily "I can't take you. You'll need a 'Dublin' bus".
A bit shocked by his reaction (and not even digressing to query his exact
definition of a 'Dublin bus'), I began to ask if they stopped here, but
before I could finish he snapped, "Get off", pressed a remote button,
closed the automatic door in my face (actually knocking me off the step),
and roared off into the sunset. Only a mobile phone call to the mythical
Dublin Bus confirmed that, in fact, no buses stopped at my stop.
This wouldn't have happened fifteen years ago. A solitary girl, a lonely
road; any driver with seats to spare would have winked conspiratorially,
said 'hop on', and probably given the lift for free, or at least a small
backhander. Not that I'm harking back wistfully to the 'good old days'
of mass unemployment, piety, repressed women and clerical buggery. Oh
no. I'm just saying that with the recent changes in society, maybe we've
lost a bit of the friendliness that was typically associated with our
race. Is this, in fact, the symptom of a greater problem? Mary Robinson
went on the radio yesterday morning to head a discussion about Third World
poverty. There was much quoting of Sir Bob, who in typical fashion, was
jumping on any charity bandwagon that came his way. (Not that I'm knocking
what he and Bono are doing. More power to them if they are prepared to
get up off their asses and attempt to improve the fate of humanity, rather
than spending all of their time doing drugs and having sex with groupies,
like your average rock star) The gap between the 'haves' and 'have-nots'
is greater than ever before, apparently. And I agree. I agree strongly,
in fact. But as usual, we're committing the typically Irish crime - feed
the world, while we ignore the problems that sit on our own doorstep.
We neglect to mention that, to survive in the second most expensive country
in the Euro zone, to eat our vastly overpriced vegetables, to pay for
the exorbitant rents that money-grubbing landlords are raking in, our
people are getting more stressed, working longer and longer hours, being
forced to shove their offspring into crèches from birth, and generally
forgetting how to have fun. One in three women in Dublin suffers from
depression. Pub sales are down for the first time in years. To keep up
with the costs of living in an era of spiralling capitalism, which the
government has made no effort to control, everyone is beginning to burn
out. There is no control on rents. There are no tax breaks for childcare.
Provision of low cost housing is a joke. Medicine costs a packet. Dentists
and insurance brokers are practically allowed to fix their own price.
Everything you do has an associated cost. If you get a credit card, the
government whisks away €40.00 immediately in stamp duty, for chrissake.
The typical price of a modest home in Dublin is around €250,000.
To qualify for a 90% mortgage on that, you'd need an annual income of
around €80,000 to €90,000. What sort of first time buyer can
afford that? The kind with a rich mommy and daddy who will help with the
stamp duty and the deposit, in fact the kind who probably have a nice
little flat already, and could do with a bit of extra rental income, that's
who. Everything's running wildly out of control. Personal debt is mounting.
And the unstable, the mentally ill, the disabled, the addicted, the carers,
in fact, all of the most vulnerable people in society, are finding it
increasingly difficult to keep up. And if you lose the plot, or lose your
foothold on the property ladder, or lose your job, and you don't have
strong family backup, it's bloody hard to keep your financial affairs
in order. Hence, what is probably the highest rate of homelessness since
the Famine.
It's ok if you're a healthy yuppie earning 45k a year, or if you bought
a home back when prices were realistic, but for the average working person,
living in this society is becoming a nightmare. And if you're unemployed,
or sick, or your teeth are falling out, well then the attitude of the
powers that be is pretty much 'stuff you'. If you're paying loads of tax,
the politicians love you. If you have needs, well then lets just ignore
the problem, eh? Let's host the Special Olympics, and set up some great
photo opportunities with a couple of cute little Down's Syndrome kids,
while behind the scenes, we're cutting back on our carer's budget.
What the wonderful Celtic Tiger has brought us is a group of politicians
with well- lined pockets, a host of stress related disorders, an increasing
group of people who are marginalised by society, a cost of living we can't
afford, and a growing alienation from our convivial traditions, to boot.
And what did the government do with all the revenue? We didn't even get
a decent transport system out of it, for Gods sake. So before we go rushing
off like some kind of glorified Florence Nightingale to sort another country's
problems (a.k.a. 'bathe in a warm glow of altruism'), why not take a look
at some of our own dirty little issues first? Maybe if we learn how to
make this country a better place to live in, we will be able to devise
aid programmes that give 'Third World' countries feasible blueprints for
self-help, rather than just slapping a 'band aid' on the problem.
Taxi!
by
Emma Pearson
29th July 2003
Discuss
This Article
|
Topics
|