A Declaration of Independence

“The streets are meltin’, the sky is swelling, even the trees are rebelling,” Patti Smith greets the crowd at a Summer Stage Literary event in Central Park, New York City (July 1993).

What is it that sustains you in times of real doubt? The kind we find ourselves in right now. For me, it’s a certain sense of self, based on an inner strength that lies deep way beneath the surface. It’s something I’ve worked extremely hard to build up over the years, sometimes without even knowing I’m even doing it. It’s happened despite the scars inflicted by the Irish education system. Hence, I’ve developed a fierce determination to come out on top despite feeling adrift when I left school. I’m still fighting the sense of desolation that filled those years up to the Leaving Certificate. Any place, system, or person that makes you feel less is never worth it. I’ve learned that when that’s the case, it’s best to get the hell out of there. Run whilst there’s still some part of you left. I’m finding that as I get older it’s easier to do the things I want to do and to avoid the things I don’t. When you are younger you don’t always have that choice. Thankfully now I am able to choose carefully who I spend my time with. Mostly, I only go to places that feed my spirit with positive energy, unless I really have to.

I’ve learned to immerse myself in music, books, poetry, film, comedy, theatre, and sports. I’ve always taken special notice of people armed with the greatest weapon of all - independent thought. Like Patti Smith. Deborah Harry. Bono. Bob Geldof. Russell Brand. I’ve always felt the impulse to step outside of the norm. I’ve learned the value of walking in the opposite direction to the crowd if and when I deem it necessary. If someone’s silent with me, I’m more than happy to reciprocate. That way we are both happier. I try my best not to take offense anymore, to just let people and things be. If need be I step away and let them be. I try not to judge. After all, I’m not walking in their shoes. I won’t deny it’s hard, but it is possible unless I feel the need to stand up for myself or someone I care about deeply. Then the gloves come off.

I know now I was drowning in the Irish education system when I was in school. I now know that to be a good thing, but as I referenced above it left many marks that are still visible. Even now I still doubt myself from time to time. I know now I wasn’t stupid, that I was just waiting for the moment until I got to do the things I knew I loved doing. Slowly but surely I began to find my place in the world. My confidence grew slowly as I began to realize that intelligence comes in many disguises, lots of them living in boxes outside the relatively narrow constraints of traditional education. Suddenly, I was starting to develop my own ideas now that I was allowed to think for myself. Such was the shock that I even began to write them down.

I was walking on steadier ground at home now that my father’s mood was no longer dependent on a set of exam results based on subjects that I either had no aptitude for or any interest in. The ones I enjoyed stuck out like a sore thumb. Unfortunately, they were buried underneath the rubble of the requirements of the Leaving Certificate. To study History in college I had to pass Maths and French. It was only when I repeated it in Ringsend College and went to Trinity that the fog gradually began to lift. I was beginning to breathe in oxygen that I had no idea existed. Slowly the fog was lifting.

I began work in Isaac’s Tourist Hostel off Gardiner Street in Dublin. There I met people from all over the world and even more importantly girls who weren’t tied up in emotional knots courtesy of the Catholic Church. The doors of my mind were swinging wide open. For a while, it felt like anything was possible. In 1983 a young Dublin team, grounded by the experience of Kevin Heffernan in the dugout and the likes of Tommy Drumm, Anton O’Toole, and Mick Holden on the pitch, came from nowhere to win the All-Ireland. U2 had just released their latest album ‘War’. The Boomtown Rats were still ripping up the charts across the Irish Sea. The world felt like an oyster back then.

I was beginning to seriously question the Irish establishment. Unfortunately, a blaggard called Charles Haughey was in his prime, a rogue who encapsulated a system of governance based on a sense of entitlement, in the corridors of power, that’s still as strong today as it was back then. It was also enshrined in the church, the police, the legal system, health, and education. I realized that the civil service was there to make sure things don’t change. I still regret that I became part of this system when I decided to become a teacher. My heart was heavy with guilt. It still is. At the time it was a case of needs must as jobs were thin on the ground, but being part of a system I have no trust in has never sat well with me.

It soon became obvious that being different in Ireland was frowned upon. So too was being successful outside of the iron-clad constraints of the collective. One example was when The Boomtown Rats struggled to find a concert venue until they kicked up some dust in Leixlip. Rather than recognize talent and excellence to this day, we continue to do our best to burn it to the ground unless it’s on our terms. You have to play by the rules or face the consequences of the majority. U2. JP McManus. Geldof. The Dublin Football Team. They’ve all felt the bitterness that comes with stepping out into the world. It’s no coincidence that Beckett, Behan, and Joyce flew the coup. Often it’s easier to be Irish abroad.

I learned to travel light with a notebook and a pen for company. Inspiration might hold the door open but it waits for no man. I looked outside Ireland for ideas, but also found plenty of riches within. I met two French punks, Veronique and Cecile, who introduced me to the exotic variety available in Dublin’s nightlife. They took me to see Gavin Friday, The Golden Horde, Light A Big Fire, and The Blades. Nights that were sprinkled with gold. It was here that I discovered what it was like to tap into the energies of others who felt the same as I did and I was surprised to find that there were lots of them out there. They populated Hill 16 and went to Ireland soccer matches at Lansdowne Road on dark Wednesday afternoons filled with hope. They drank in various pubs dotted around Dublin. O’Donoghues. The Boars Head. The Baggot Inn.

Going to London only fed my curiosity further opening me up to the heartbeat of freedom I would later feel in Barcelona, New York, and Berlin. The good news is that once you work out that you don’t fit in, that’s when you stop trying. There’s great freedom to be had in going it alone. You no longer have to answer to anyone or anything. For those you leave behind, the walls might be closing in, but out in the wilderness, the nights are wild and free. I’ve long known that the only real prison that exists is a product of our own minds. If you unlock the door to free thinking anything is possible. Moments you’ve forgotten are left to unwind slowly and at their own pace. I found much solace and inspiration in my teardrops. Often it is in the bitter memories that we find the joy to let go and live again.

Suddenly I was happy in my own skin in a world that demands you fit in. I was finally comfortable with who I was. I saw the bullshit coming miles off and figured out ways of stepping around it. I was no longer that timid little boy in school afraid of my own shadow. Afraid to get a question wrong. Now I knew there was a way out. The great wide open was calling me home, but first, it had to earn my trust. I was understandably cautious. Curious even. Two steps forward, one step back towards the voices calling me back to the spirit I was born with. Pure and simple. Wild. Beautiful. Young hearts run free. The bright light and a trail of white feathers led the way. They still do. I see feathers every day on the ground before me. When I see one I know I’m on the right path, even if sometimes it doesn’t feel that way. I’ve learned to trust in the bigger picture, even when the usual obstacles block my way.

I have also learned that people find it hard to understand how someone can step outside the system, despite the fact many flourish in the wilderness. That’s why the free have to be taken down, knocked off their pedestal. They’re a warning that it can be done. A warning that the system is vulnerable and not always to be trusted. The powers that be can’t have too many people thinking that way. You’re meant to lie down and play the game. We saw it during the pandemic, this zombie-like trust in authority to do what’s best. Right or wrong, I am fascinated by where that inherent trust comes from. It can’t be because of the cervical cancer scandal. It can’t be because of the mother and baby scandal. It can’t be because of the Tuam babies. It can’t be because of the banking crisis. So many reasons to question, but those who did so were ostracized and told to be quiet. The press and the media shut down. It seemed that a collective fear was the only real currency in town. Fear is a powerful ally to the governments of this world. It seems now that people vote because they’re frightened that things could get worse, rather than hopeful that they can get better.

As The Blow Monkeys put it so eloquently back in the 1980s it doesn’t have to be this way. We can rise up and reach out for better days ahead. It will require a radical shift in thinking, consciousness, and a determination to take this world back from a system that knows no other way. Politicians look the other way, corporations chase only profit and financial institutions with no respect or empathy for the majority. It can be different. There is another way. But we have to be brave. To stop accepting what we’re told is absolute. To dig deeper for the truth. We need to follow the money. There’s so much that’s good and there’s so much right. But it will take brave people. People who can see beyond themselves into the greater good. People who are not bound to the way things always were.

If there’s one thing school taught me it’s to look within. As Bruce Springsteen said in No Surrender, I learned more from a three-minute record than I ever learned in school. That’s the way I felt at the time. I still do. That and reading book after book and watching films have taught me everything I know. I learned through my own and others’ experiences. I opened the curtains wide and fed off the sustenance of what I saw.

I listen to people like Russell Brand and Neil Oliver who are suggesting we take a different path. Irving Welsh is another light in the darkness. It’s good versus evil. We have been robbed and ridiculed. But now, it’s time to stop marching to the beat of a drum that no longer cares for us.

We’ve come so far.

It would be a pity not to finish the job.