Surrealing in the Years Screw it, let's put a Carroll's Irish Gifts in the GPO then

WHERE’S EOIN MACNEILL when you actually need someone to countermand a plan for the GPO?

Last week, in the aftermath of an event which saw seven pubs (and one hairdressers) on Dame Lane booked out by a massive multinational tech firm for an evening, this column explored the question of who exactly Dublin is for: the people who live there, or a combination of tourists, tech companies and their esteemed guests. 

It took only a matter of days for the government to add fuel to that particular fire when they announced that their proposal for the GPO — perhaps Ireland’s most important building in terms of Irish history and identity — to be converted into a ‘mixed-use’ space which would involve retail outlets, office space and a museum.

Now I know what you’re thinking, but don’t worry. The museum will almost certainly continue to charge an entry fee, so there is no risk of any money being left on the table. After all, the current iteration of the GPO does actually already have a perfectly good museum in it. But it is missing something. 

The proposal follows a recommendation by the Dublin City Taskforce last year that the GPO, located as it is in the middle of Ireland’s largest thoroughfare, be made a “major public building” with a greater public importance. And nothing is more important to the public than more high-street shops and office space right in the middle of Dublin. All we have to do is fill in those unsightly bullet holes, install a rooftop bar and man, it’ll be like the whole thing never even happened. 

The proposal would see the GPO become, in Taoiseach Micheál Martin’s words, a “world-class and historic flagship project with a significant cultural presence at its heart, supported by first-class retail and office components”. Which, to be fair, mirrors exactly what Patrick Pearse called for when he unfurled the Proclamation of the Irish Republic on Easter Monday, 1916. “We declare the right of the people of Ireland to the ownership of Ireland, and to the unfettered control of Irish destinies, to be sovereign and indefeasible, and of some future government to unilaterally replace any landmark they wish with a Carrolls or a Wetherspoons or some other thing where American tourists might spend money,” I think he said.

It’s not exactly the most subtle point to make, but it’s hard not to think about the stated intentions of James Connolly, executed for his role as a leader at the GPO in 1916, a man who once wrote “If you remove the English Army tomorrow and hoist the green flag over Dublin Castle, unless you set about the organisation of the Socialist Republic your efforts will be in vain,” and ask yourself whether the legacy of 1916 is really being honoured here. I suspect the other five of them probably wouldn’t have been in favour of it either. 

Granted, we don’t know exactly what the plan is just yet and maybe they’ll prove us all wrong. Maybe instead of Dublin’s inaugural Shake Shack and 200 new desks for contract workers for Accenture and Google it’ll be something tasteful. You know, like a Harvey Nichols.

When taken to task on the matter in the Dáil by Pearse Doherty, Tánaiste Simon Harris turned to his favourite catchphrase, histrionically crying “How dare you?” — a strategy that worked so well for him last time that Micheál Martin was able to steal the office of Taoiseach out from under his nose. Sinn Féin has offered a counter-proposal of developing a 1916 Cultural Quarter, and for the original plan of a 1916 Commemorative Centre at 14-17 Moore Street to be fulfilled. Good luck selling novelty donuts out of a commemorative centre, you amateurs. 

Does anyone really want to be president of Ireland?

With a maximum of 136 days to go until we need to hold a presidential election, there doesn’t seem to be a great deal of interest in the position. In the past week, a few high-profile figures have indicated that they’re considering the position, which is the sort of thing that you say in order to find out whether the public hates you too much for you to viably run. 

Colum Eastwood, who led the SDLP for nine years and currently serves in Westminster as an MP, is among those who are contemplating a bid for the Áras. Fine Gael MEP and Kerryman Seán Kelly said he hadn’t made up his mind on whether or not to run. There seems to be a bit of brinksmanship at play, where potential candidates are surely paying close attention to the landscape, waiting to see if anyone unbeatable enters the ring so as to spare themselves the embarrassment. 

The flipside of this, of course, is that the longer we go without any actual candidates, the more tempting it must be for one individual to burst onto the scene and hoover up all of the media focus. Enter: Jooooooooe Duffy! Wow, that does not work over text, does it? Looks like I learned how to play that damn guitar solo for nothing.

Friday was Joe Duffy’s last day in the Liveline hotseat, and speaking on Morning Ireland yesterday, Duffy refused to rule himself out of the upcoming presidential contest. When pushed on whether or not a party had approached him to run under their standard, Duffy simply said: “I’m still part of RTÉ until Monday effectively, and so I will not lose the run of myself.”

Granted, it’s nothing like a clear yes, but I have always firmly believed that if you ask someone if they want to be the president, and they don’t want to be the president, then they’ll say, “No, thank you, I don’t want to be the president.” If you ask someone whether they want to be the president and they say, “Well, I’m technically under contract at my current job for a few more hours,” that’s really more of a maybe. 

At 69, Duffy would be younger than Michael D Higgins was when he was first elected president in 2011. As of the most recent JNLR figures, Liveline retains a daily listenership of 300,000, and we already know the public trusts the guy. Indeed, this island is seemingly full of people who would rather talk to Joe than to address their problems through the more typical channels that one might expect.

Duffy, much like Higgins, is leaving some very big shoes to fill. Whomever takes over from Duffy needs to have that same dedication to serving as a release valve for the grievances of a nation, ranging from the absurd and vexatious to the absurd and valid.

For nearly 40 years, Duffy has served as the country’s mediator in chief, turning our national pastime of complaining into a bona fide institution. Whether or not you enjoy his programme, his mark on the collective Irish psyche is already indelible. If he can be tempted to take that legacy a step further, we could be in for a very interesting presidential race come the autumn. If nothing else, he’d be the first Irish president with his own entrance music.