Note that, most normal people would believe that these people are all caring professionals, that have the interests of working class people at the very core of their education. These are widely understood to be the Caring Professionals.
In 1982, being working class, meant that, you were an under educated person, with little or no opportunities to ever secure a third level education. Even if you had the money to pay for third level, college entry was mostly restricted to members of the middle classes.
We lived at the top of a tenement house in Gardiner Place, Dublin, Ireland. The only good thing about this flat was its proximity to one of the best children’s hospital in the country. Temple street hospital was only 100 meters away.
The flat itself was damp, hard to heat, and hard to live in. Little or no running water on a daily basis. The neighbours were good and helped each other, but, they also had no work and little or no money.
One good thing about being unemployed, and, with children, in the 80s, meant that, we got a medical card from the state. This meant that we could access doctors and medical services in general for the children. The damp in the flat meant the children picked up all sorts of illnesses, and more frequently than somebody living in adequate housing.
From a very early stage, my wife and I were always going to do the best we could to ensure our children got the best education, that, we could get for them. We enrolled the eldest child in Saint Josephs School, Wellington Street. We had done some research and we found out that Saint Josephs was a feeder school for Saint Vincents Secondary school in Glasnevin. Saint Vincents was probably the best secondary school available to boys living on the Northside of Dublin. Automatic entry to Saint Viincents was available to children living in the parish, (we did not live in the parish), but, as I said earlier, Saint Josephs, Wellington Street, was a feeder school for Saint Vincents, and therefore, the boys from Saint Josephs could choose Saint Vincents as the secondary school. It was all informal and subject to the approval of the parish priest. I joined the Parents Committee of Saint Josephs and worked closely with the principal, a lovely woman, who took no guff off anybody. My wife and I felt that with Ms Coffey in charge of Saint Josephs, then, getting our eldest boy into Saint Vincents was always going to be a reality. Once he was in, then, it was automatic entry for his younger brother. The rest of that is another story.
They had a few doctors and they had an arrangement where they took on the person, and they provided a service. One drawback was, you had to accept whatever doctor was on duty when you presented yourself or your child. Depending on your personal preference you might get the doctor you liked and then again you might not. My wife preferred one particular doctor and we usually managed to get an appointment for them. Sometimes though, the emergency was such that we had to accept a different doctor. In this case, this doctor was regarded locally as being very capable and knew child illnesses better than most. The bedside manner was a bit gruff, though.
As described earlier, the deference towards doctors was such that they were almost regarded as royalty. If I had confronted the doctor, then no good would have come out of that. My masculinity was wounded mortally, but there was nothing I could do. I did vow that "No Doctor" would ever get the chance to say that to her again. She was twenty-two years old, with two young children and living in a strange locality. Her family and friends were all miles away. No mobile phones in them days. We needed helpful advice and guidance. We did not need criticism. Our parents did what they could to help, and that should not have to be said, but there, it’s said now, just for the record.
In this case, that caring professional, a doctor, a member of the Irish establishment, decided to put a loving, very young, mother, down. Boosting her self-esteem was not something this doctor was ever going to do.
I became involved in active politics in 1982, and I have been fighting the establishment ever since. I have been involved in that many campaigns, I have forgotten most of them.
In the 80s we fought, and the establishment fought back, but we eventually won. Since 2010 onwards the establishment fought back and we lost, and we are still losing. Our rights are being eroded week after week, month after month, year after year, and it does not look like it is stopping.
If the establishment can hold out for a few more years, then, we, (the 80s parents) will all be dead, and there will be nobody to fight back.
The establishment would have us believe that all taxes are used to finance working class lifestyles that resemble that of the very highest paid people. The complete opposite is the truth. Taxes are used to finance all sorts of public services that millennials seem to take for granted. On an individual basis, most public services are consumed by middle class people.
Millennials need to realise, they need to get involved to influence the future for them and their children, and their children’s children.
Taking things for granted has never worked in Ireland.
In relation to the above, there are many more instances of the establishment being obnoxious. Like I said, most of the issues above, apply to many people. One example that is widespread is, when you seek to transfer to more suitable housing. The standard reply was: Have more children and you get more points, and then you have a better chance to transfer. Then, there were the doctors that issued anti-biotics for children, almost regardless of the illness. We went once, and the examination of our child took about ten seconds. They asked for our medical card to write out the prescription for anti-biotics. When told we had no medical card because I was working and paying cash, the doctor insisted our child would have a full examination and he did not prescribe an anti-biotic. We never gave him any more of our money after that. We found a different doctor.
Why am I always angry at the establishment? The above is why I am always angry at the establishment. They tried to deny my children what is rightfully theirs, and I don’t take kindly to anybody trying to deny my children their rights.
Those at the top have lost their moral compass, and, as such, they render the caring people ineffective.
The vast majority of public servants are genuinely committed to public service, and they must be applauded.
One particular part of my anger is reserved for people who are not part of the establishment, but then, by virtue of the work done by lots of other people, they make it into the establishment, and then, they turn out to be worse than the establishment members, that had gone before them.
An old Dublin saying describes it: The working Class can kiss me arse, I’ve got the foreman’s job at last.
Till the next time, thanks for reading this.