John Curran seems to have some of the attributes of an upstanding local county council member – so why is it the Falcarragh man failed to win one of the positions in last months’ elections in Donegal?
Especially as anyone with a snippet of local knowledge knows that at least one other candidate – Terence Slowey – by virtue of being found guilty of ‘double dipping’ on expenses, may be less deserving of a seat.
Could it be that John’s failure reflects the ordinary person’s displeasure with the lack of transparency by public bodies in Ireland and manipulation of public money to benefit the already well-to-do?
John is a married man and father, a qualified solicitor and has experience within the county council, as well as in the voluntary sector – indeed he is now director of Donegal Volunteer Centre. More than that – he avows to be deeply interested in community affairs.
Okay, John has deep political ambitions but, hey, what’s wrong with that? I would hope all of the candidates – the successful and the less so – had this in abundance. Otherwise they’re not worth voting for.
So what went wrong?
How is it others, with – in my view – much less integrity – won out over John? To some readers of this blog, these words may come as a surprise. After all, John lambasted me personally over the last month or so in the print media, on the Highland Radio airwaves (see A Better-Informed Donegal is a Better Donegal) and in his own Facebook, for daring to call for greater transparency on the proposed three million euro spending on an addiction clinic in John’s hometown.
Ironically, that was John’s big mistake.
Did John feel – as a government candidate, with money and party behind him, as well as being a board member of Údarás na Gaeltachta – that he’d be a shoe-in? Perhaps. I’m not sure. What I am sure about, however, is what he didn’t realize – that people – young and old alike – in this rural area of northwest Ireland are, as one native-born Donegal man put it so poetically, ‘cute hoors.’ In more diplomatic language – they know a maverick when they see one. As Gaeilge, ‘amadáin’ they’re certainly not. Not a one of ‘em.
Running on a Fine Gael ticket probably didn’t help (John could have run as an Independent but, offered a chance to speak at the party’s pre-election Ard Fheis, he decided not to). But his failure to win a council seat amounted to much more than that. After all, Fine Gael candidate, Jimmy Kavanagh, was elected.
By heeding the advice of the golden circle who support him in the Donegal Gaeltacht and who are making big money off the public purse in northwest Donegal, mainly through the goings-on at Údarás, and by attempting to turn a simple call for greater transparency – which in other democratic societies would be considered a normal request (in fact, one that should have been led by John himself) – into a ‘personal’ issue, he – with unfortunate consequences for himself – overstepped the mark.
People in the Donegal Gaeltacht may sometimes be blindsided, but they’re not blind. They may be silent sometimes in face of authority (it’s inherent in our Irish nature, conditioned over generations) but they aren’t voiceless.
And at the recent elections they made their voices heard.
Though only a brave few – among them, Owen Curran, Theresa and Caroline Woods, Mary Bridget Sharkey; Mary Attenborough; Moire McCarry; R.J. McLean; James Woods; Gerard Gallagher and Martin McEhlinny – take to the streets regularly in northwest Donegal to protest injustices – deep down (maybe not so deep), many people are upset. They saw that somebody, some people, some institutions – including the Catholic Church and Údarás – were trying to pull the wool over their eyes over the addiction center. They noticed clearly that not enough open discussion was taking place over a major proposal that not only would cost the public around three million euro, but would leave very little, perhaps nothing, for other projects in Falcarragh and other areas of the Donegal Gaeltacht (do you really think other Gaeltachts in Ireland are going to readily vote even more money for Donegal over the three million euro, and from a dwindling public purse?….please).
So what exactly is it that is so sensitive about this proposed addiction centre that it needs be kept so tightly under wraps?
With no answers forthcoming from Údarás na Gaeltachta itself about costs and benefits (see Openness and transparency required: Udaras still has questions to answer), I offered the opportunity directly to Cuan Mhuire – the Catholic Church group of nuns that badly wants this public money for the centre (the second such one in Donegal, a very unusual situation for a county with such a small population). The questions were sent to it before the news broke nationally and internationally about the dumping the bodies of around 800 dead infants in and around a septic tank in Tuam by nuns.
An interpretation of this organisation’s response, or lack thereof, indicates the clinic may focus on sex addiction treatments for convicted clergy, as well as for abusers of drugs and alcohol and that Cuan Mhuire may indeed – as earlier media reports suggest – be guilty of allowing convicted paedophile priests to conduct religious services inside its other addiction clinics in Ireland. And may do so again in Falcarragh if the proposal goes through. And perhaps it’s quite convenient for it to do so – treat convicted clerics, both nuns and priests, for sex addiction and have them conduct religious services inside the centre – in the northwest corner of Donegal. Such nefariousness would thus be far from the glare of the national media.
If Cuan Mhuire were a responsible organization, with nothing to hide, it would have answered, perhaps not every question, perhaps not in the detail that would be reasonably expected, but answer it would. If a responsible organization with the concerns of the local community at heart, it would have realized how sensitive this addiction centre proposal is and deal with the concerns in an open manner.
Instead, Cuan Mhuire, a fully-controlled arm of the Catholic Church, acts as if it’s above the societal norms we others must adhere to – and therein lies a great danger. In the past, and still now – while ordinary people, ordinary community groups, follow rules and regulations that make for a stable, secure world – the church considers itself above the law. That is a frightening path.
In conclusion, if John Curran really wants to be considered a serious candidate for future public office (remember, he was appointed to the board of Údarás by the Government, not elected by the people), he cannot be simply a toadie for a political party or an institution such as the Catholic Church or Údarás. He must do what any decent board member is supposed to do – something, unfortunately, we have NOT seen successive board members at Údarás and most other Irish institutions from FAS to the Central Remedial Clinic do: take his responsibilities seriously and both oversee public spending and the overall health of the community properly.