What a week for the law. Up in arms are the opposition politicians, to whom exactly the same bad-PR would have come had they been in power. The meedja are really whipping up a fury. I don't even know the difference between tabloids and broadsheets anymore, excepting that tabloids are easier to carry and read on the train. And, considering tabloids wear on their sleeves the fact that they exist to insense, cajole, threaten and generally use shock tactics and breasts to report the news, they suddenly seem much more honest, somehow.
The considered opinion of respected journalists doesn't seem like much when the Indo runs a Comment on how paedophiles from all over the world will be landing on our shores, because we have joined Thailand, Cambodia and Amsertdam as stops on the International "sex-tourism route". For one thing, "sex tourism" is surely a circuit, which includes a lot of Europe, and areas of the States where prostitution is legal, and pornography is nasty.
For another, surely it's time to stop this dangerous, ill-considered commentary when the P word raises its ugly head. No one likes a peadophile, that's established. But when you provide General Ignorance to a nation at large, mothers get terrorised, peadiatricians get threatened, and innocent people get hurt.
Already on Morning Ireland, the daily round up of trite newsbites, intended to be as digestable as a meusli bar and a smoothie, they are talking about the flow of prisoners from Arbour Hill. Which will surely serve to send the incensed up to Arbour Hill to "find out who the bastards are". Which will lead to tabloids and broadsheets sending up their cameras. Which could lead then to visitors who are male, and between 30 and 60 getting done over for being 'paedos that got off'. With no more proof than the fact that they were seen leaving the prison. This can't be right.
The law is there to protect the innocent as much as it is to prosecute the guilty. In fact, before that, the law is there to be used as a measure of guilt. What happened? How did it happen? Who appears to have done it? Can the answers to all of these questions be linked up reasonably?
Protecting the innocent is possibly how we got here today. I'm no legal expert, but a quick think about the facts of the law and the constitution suggests that Statutory Rape was an easy, and almost painless form of prosecution for those forcing themselves on minors. As there was no defence, there was no need to put a child to the trauma of reliving the experience, there was no media spotlight on parents, actions, etc. Simple. Straightforward. Sorted.
But no. It never could be that easy. I almost remember having a drunken conversation at about the age of 17 or 18 with a man who is now a legal expert. He was telling me then that there was no defence for statutory (which, given the age of consent was 17 for women, was a serious issue for us. Given that we were in a kitchen drinking beer and Jack Daniels at three in the morning would suggest we hadn't much of a chance of getting done for it that night, anyway...).
"Surely that's against the constitution?"
"Yes. Unfortunately, something really nasty is going to happen, and it'll all blow up"
This is the more sober translation of the conversation. There were a few curses, slurs and digressions, but you don't need to know about those.
It seems to me that this has been known about. As much as defense lawyers may be called negligent, and government officials have been called useless (which is unfair, given that the law hasn't been in existence since 1935), I think many people have had a similar conversation to the one above. So why not change it? Well, I forgot about the conversation until this story broke. So, I guess constitutional law isn't high up on the moral meter for many people. But also, wasn't it handy to have a tool that could be so executive? Just admit guilt, and away you go. No long process, no jumping through legal hoops, no media circus, no features analysis...
Essentially, as much as our outrage demands it, there is no pariah here. Or, every single one of us is at fault. This is a democracy, and as much as we hand over power to our governments to manage the country, it would be up to each and every one of us to approach a politician when we had this conversation about the law. This has been on the back burner, what seems to me a handy number to deal with the most devastating of cases without having to resort to the raw emotion of victimhood, or the cruel intention fo the villain. It was a law that opened and shut like a bear trap, taking with it the guilty party. And the guilty party are considered the lowest of the low in our society. Who in the name of Christ is going to untie that knot?
The question is not of blame. It is, of course, what do we do now?
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
A Story for Lunchtime (From Sept 2004)
It's lunchtime, and I ran out for a roll with ham and cheese and ran back in again when it started to rain. Now all I can do is stare at the bizarre Internet, or past the orderly heads at the grey outside that becomes obscured by the rain on the windows. I feel like I'm on a train journey. The 1pm to Wishing I Was Elsewhere.
Working in a Business Park is not what anyone promised. The "handy local shops" are impossible with the queues of employees from 30 large multinationals all waiting to get a roll, sandwich or drink at one o'clock. We bustle through busily, letting the Chinese workers understand that we're all way too important to really spend much time in the confined space of the franchised, big name minimarket where they work. They, in retaliation, quietly take the piss out of our self-satisfied busyness. They've seen us walking around at breaktimes, and they've seen our despondent faces, staring at the grey sky, which meets grey buildings in a depressed unison. They know we don't feel that important at all. If we were gone for a day, few would notice. If they were gone for an hour, hundreds could go hungry with the lunch shortage and the long queue. It takes a degree in English and Philosophy to get this depressed, I'm sure.
The park looks like it was built by ants who just dropped some concrete, hollowed out to make space for desks and computers and telephones and can machines and such. We bustle around being important, despite the fact that we could all be expected to sacrafice ourselves to some form of a colony queen soon enough.
There is nowhere to go on a rainy day, except back into your own building. I wish we could do swaps. The guys from the large American Multinational over there could come and see the building of the large American Multinational that we work for, while we go and check out the building of the large American Multinational at the other side of the park.
I wonder what PCs look like in those buildings, or the Internet, or even middle managers? There's a whole world out there, in this little park. And I've tried to explore it by applying for jobs in all those companies - those large Multinational American companies, so different form the large Multinational American company I work for. They value their employees. They'd miss you if you were gone. Maybe they miss you already - given that you're not there. They could use your abilities, your experience, your qualifications. But after they read another CV from another arts graduate with another X number of years in the workplace of another large Multinational American company, they think you're not quite the right person for them. Or, they tell you their company is not quite the right company for you.
My roll is gone now, so a quick swig of orange juice that I got free from a machine as a perk of my job, and I pop in the Nicotine pill that I now take in lieu of being a smoker. 10 minutes to the end of lunch, so this little break in the day quickly becomes gone, like yesterday. Yesterday I decided I would give it up. Thie cubicle-existence - defined by fun blue curvy dividers that allow everyone to see me looking at whatever I look at on the Internet. Maybe I could go back to college and become a doctor or a lawyer. I could easliy get a good job working for a large Multinational American company as a medical checkup guy or a legal advisor.
Anyway, with five minutes to go, this train of thought must stop - toot toot. And the only passenger (my consciousness) must alight, and get onto the 2pm to Ennui. Hope you enjoyed the journey. Most of all I hope you read about it during work. In a big grey building, inhabited by the employees of a large multinational American copmany. If you did, you might see if there are any jobs going for me?
Working in a Business Park is not what anyone promised. The "handy local shops" are impossible with the queues of employees from 30 large multinationals all waiting to get a roll, sandwich or drink at one o'clock. We bustle through busily, letting the Chinese workers understand that we're all way too important to really spend much time in the confined space of the franchised, big name minimarket where they work. They, in retaliation, quietly take the piss out of our self-satisfied busyness. They've seen us walking around at breaktimes, and they've seen our despondent faces, staring at the grey sky, which meets grey buildings in a depressed unison. They know we don't feel that important at all. If we were gone for a day, few would notice. If they were gone for an hour, hundreds could go hungry with the lunch shortage and the long queue. It takes a degree in English and Philosophy to get this depressed, I'm sure.
The park looks like it was built by ants who just dropped some concrete, hollowed out to make space for desks and computers and telephones and can machines and such. We bustle around being important, despite the fact that we could all be expected to sacrafice ourselves to some form of a colony queen soon enough.
There is nowhere to go on a rainy day, except back into your own building. I wish we could do swaps. The guys from the large American Multinational over there could come and see the building of the large American Multinational that we work for, while we go and check out the building of the large American Multinational at the other side of the park.
I wonder what PCs look like in those buildings, or the Internet, or even middle managers? There's a whole world out there, in this little park. And I've tried to explore it by applying for jobs in all those companies - those large Multinational American companies, so different form the large Multinational American company I work for. They value their employees. They'd miss you if you were gone. Maybe they miss you already - given that you're not there. They could use your abilities, your experience, your qualifications. But after they read another CV from another arts graduate with another X number of years in the workplace of another large Multinational American company, they think you're not quite the right person for them. Or, they tell you their company is not quite the right company for you.
My roll is gone now, so a quick swig of orange juice that I got free from a machine as a perk of my job, and I pop in the Nicotine pill that I now take in lieu of being a smoker. 10 minutes to the end of lunch, so this little break in the day quickly becomes gone, like yesterday. Yesterday I decided I would give it up. Thie cubicle-existence - defined by fun blue curvy dividers that allow everyone to see me looking at whatever I look at on the Internet. Maybe I could go back to college and become a doctor or a lawyer. I could easliy get a good job working for a large Multinational American company as a medical checkup guy or a legal advisor.
Anyway, with five minutes to go, this train of thought must stop - toot toot. And the only passenger (my consciousness) must alight, and get onto the 2pm to Ennui. Hope you enjoyed the journey. Most of all I hope you read about it during work. In a big grey building, inhabited by the employees of a large multinational American copmany. If you did, you might see if there are any jobs going for me?
Monday, May 29, 2006
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Short skirts, long evenings, no western...
Well, two days of sun in a row means it's summer, and I've done nothing since the bleak midwinter that was March. Or was it April? I'm not sure. I've been thinking much about this effort. From wondering whether it's really worth it to deciding to set up a small time religion based around it. Anyway, Chapter two is being thought about at the moment, but prior to that there's a great deal of reassessment to be done. Possibly, Chapter 1 will be getting a rewrite. I'm not sure.
To keep the baying dogs at bay (you know who you are!) I'm going to go ahead and try to write a short story in one sitting. I'm rarely creative, not very smart, and not great with having to write it all down in one. But it could be a lesson: don't do it again.
To keep the baying dogs at bay (you know who you are!) I'm going to go ahead and try to write a short story in one sitting. I'm rarely creative, not very smart, and not great with having to write it all down in one. But it could be a lesson: don't do it again.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
