Friday, April 17, 2009

1916 Commemoration tomorrow

The Christian Solidarity Party will hold its Commemoration of the 1916 Rising tomorrow, Saturday 18 April in the Garden of Remembrance, Parnell Square, Dublin, at 3 p.m. Everyone is welcome to attend!

The parallels between our own day and 1916 are too obvious to need pointing out by me. Now, as then, Irish sovereignty is being restricted; now, as then, Catholics suffer discrimination and Catholic values are trampled underfoot. The northern part of our island is still under foreign rule, and the southern part is ruled by a political class which laughingly tramples on the ideals of 1916 while selling more and more of our sovereignty away to Brussels. It's time to take a stand against this, and that's why we are meeting at the Garden of Remembrance tomorrow. Join us there!

Monday, April 13, 2009

I can't agree with Thought and Action on this

As most of you will know by know, last Thursday Prof Len Doyle, a proponent of euthanasia, was to give a lecture at UCC. The lecture was cancelled after protests from outside and inside the lecture hall.

The Thought and Action blog is pleased about this. "Euthanasia like abortion is not a matter for debate," it proclaims. But I can't help looking back on my own undergraduate days, and remember how furious I was whenever the leftists succeeded in getting a debate or lecture cancelled because a speaker was unacceptable to them. A debate involving the historian David Irving was cancelled after a naked threat of violence by the Socialist W**kers Student Society. When Joerg Haider attended a debate, leftists stood outside the window screaming and banging drums for two hours. Justin Barret was practically assaulted during a debate on immigration.

On each of these occasions, I was engraged at the arrogance of the protestors. Not just because of their contempt for Irving's or Haider's right to freedom of speech, but also because of their contempt for my freedom. Who the hell gave them the right to dictate who I could and could not go to hear on campus? And moreover - what were they afraid of? Why couldn't they just meet their opponents in rational and open argument? Could it be, perhaps, that they were afraid their opponents might just have the better arguments?

Imagine the situation: you're a student, on campus one evening. It's spring, exams are near, and you've had a long day. Hoping to unwind, you attend a debate being hosted by one of the societies on a topical issue, and featuring a controversial speaker. Maybe you agree with the speaker, more likely you don't, but you want to hear what he has to say anyway. You go inside the debating chamber. It's crowded, hot and stuffy. You think longingly of the pub, but reckon that since you're here now you might as well stay. Then, just as the debate begins, someone stands up and starts shouting. A few more join in. Pandemonium, scuffling, and then it is announced that the debate is being cancelled because a minority refuse to let it take place peacefully. You get up, trudge out of the hall wearily and go home. My question is: how are you going to feel towards the protestors? Are you going to think "My goodness, what fine fellows they were to prevent the debate from happening and make me waste my evening. They're definitely getting my vote at the next election!" Or will your thoughts be rather less friendly?

That, I am convinced, is one reason why the Socialist W**kers Party has never had any electoral success, despite its energetic campaigns, strong presence on university campuses and popular stances on some issues. People see its totalitarian undercurrent, and so hold back from giving it their support. Why would you vote for a party that doesn't trust you to make up your own mind about what debates to attend at university?

Preventing a debate or lecture by violent means is counter-productive. It turns every person in the room who is not already sold to your cause against you. It makes people wonder what you are afraid of. It makes them look up the censored speaker on the internet. Far more Irish people know the name Len Doyle now than would have known it if Thursday's disruption had not happened. Far more people have surely visited his website, if he has one. Many of these could well end up buying into what he has to say. Protesting against euthanasia is one thing. Trampling on people's rights to freedom of speech and freedom of assembley is quite another.

Also: if we want to win ordinary people over, we will need arguments. If our colleagues, friends, children ask us why we are against euthanasia, it will not do us much good to shout "Euthanasia is not a matter for debate!" and storm off. We will need arguments, and by disrupting Prof Doyle's lecture, the protestors denied many people the opportunity to hear those arguments, or ensured that they will be hostile if they do hear them.

Let me be clear. I am a conservative. I do not believe that there is an unconditional right to say whatever we want. In an ideal world, promoting evil causes like euthanasia should be forbidden. But we do not live in that ideal world. We live in a democracy, where arguments are won and lost by debate and not by intimidation. And this democracy is full of people who would be happy to censor traditional Catholics. So we should be very, very careful about stooping to our enemies' level. If we claim the right to freedom of speech for ourselves, we should offer it to them too.

Monday, April 6, 2009

The CSP's budget proposals

The things I do for the Latin Mass!

It's well-known that traditional Catholics often have to go to great lengths to get to a traditional Latin Mass on Sundays. When I lived in Bayreuth, the nearest TLM was in Bamberg, 30 miles away (thanks to Summorum Pontificum, that's no longer the case). The train journey there and back cost €19 and took up a good chunk of my Sunday. I know trads who make really heroic sacrifices to get to a TLM.

But even when a TLM is in your own city, getting there can sometimes be a costly business. So it was with me yesterday. I had got up a bit late, as I had a ferocious hangover (some readers of this blog know why!). I left the house and struggled to the Luas stop, just in time to see the tram leaving. The next one wouldn't come for 10 minutes. That would get me in around the time of the Gospel - a bit too late for comfort. So I took a taxi.

The taxi cost €14, but since I had spent - well, okay, wasted - a lot more than that on booze,taxis and food the night before, it didn't seem like such a huge amount. I made it to Mass on time, and afterwards had a nice cup of tea with friends. Then it was on to the Christian Solidarity Party office for an afternoon meeting, and then I had to head home - relatives were coming over.

I have no explanation for what happened next. Maybe I'm losing it, or maybe I was just too tired after my long night. Basically: as I plodded towards the Luas, I assumed I had a return ticket in my pocket. I normally buy a return ticket every day when I'm going into town. I completely forgot that I had taken a taxi into town and so had no return ticket. You can see where this is going.

I got on the Luas, sat down, it started to roll. And as we pulled in to the Harcourt Street stop, I saw a group of orange-clad inspectors waiting to get on. A young mother beside me said to her toddler son "Oh, look - inspectors! Better get your ticket ready!" I reached into my breast pocket and found ... no ticket. What was this? Where had my ticket gone? I thought about it for a second, and then remembered ... of course. The taxi. I had no ticket.

I leapt out of my seat just before the doors opened. There was a golden moment when they did open, just before the inspectors got on. At that moment I could have bolted. I was respectably dressed in a suit and tie, no one would have suspected that I was fleeing the inspectors. But some perverse instinct, or fear of dishonour, made me stay where I was. The inspector got on, and mustering as much dignity as I could, I said to him: "I'm sorry, I've no ticket. I thought I had a return ticket, but actually I haven't."

With an exceedingly bored air, he got out his notebook, took my details and handed me a €45 fine. "Mammy, what's that man doing?" inquired the toddler.

"He's just taking notes, pet" came the reply.

I stayed on the tram until it reached my stop, and trudged up the hill towards my house. Making the 10:30 Mass had proved more expensive than usual. In future I'll try to go to bed earlier on Saturdays - or at any rate get up earlier.