On the adjournment: With the Oireachtas and Drapier still on holiday, backbenchers have been given a chance in this column to sound off. This week, Donegal senator Joe McHugh on the pain of rural school closures
A crop of hard-working men from Tir Conaill gave us a summer we'll never forget. The highs and lows. Despair at half-time against Fermanagh, soon erased by an unrelenting campaign. Longford, Sligo, Down, Tipperary, Galway. . . Galway again, and then Armagh. Inspirational performances indeed, culminating in an epic semi-final at Croke Park.
Then, back to the hills and a post mortem with a difference. As one man summed it up, "disappointing to be over but a great run in the championship combined with fine summer weather, what more could you ask for?"
A memorable summer for Donegal, but reality strikes very quickly. The next day begins for me in Doaghbeg, Portsalon (on the Fanad peninsula) at 9.30 a.m. The closure of the local primary school had been announced by the Minister for Education, and more than 100 people show up to stage a protest.
It was like a scene out of Ryan's Daughter, a winding road flanked by stone walls leading to the old school house. But nostalgia aside, a very surreal experience, almost like being at a funeral. The death of a school, the moving on and a graveside oration. However, this was not a celebration of a school's life; the orator's words were steeped in regret. There is a bigger issue at stake.
The mathematics will argue a seven-pupil school is not feasible. Practicalities, economics etc etc. Responding to a parliamentary question, Noel Dempsey referred to the cut-off point being eight units. I assume that "units" refer to pupils?
Eight "units" ignores the point - we are talking about seven children, their families, a principal, a care assistant, a board of management and a school. An institution built from a hedge school in 1872, a focal point to this particular community. A sense of identity and self-belief on the brink of decline.
Hundreds of thousands of euro are spent each year on reports telling us how to sustain rural communities and address population decline.
Eamon Ó Cuív has been leading the cavalcade for over a year now. He is bombarding us with jargon. "Balanced regional development", "sustainable development", to name but two. What has changed? Dublin is getting bigger, people are still moving from the countryside, all their policies haven't changed this. It's all empty talk, and a lot of consultancy companies have become very wealthy.
Reports and studies are commissioned on a plethora of issues. The Spatial Strategy has highlighted hubs and towns with "gateway status"; just like the Chelsea football team, excellent on paper! Will it be the magic formula though? New regional planning guidelines are in the process of implementation. More bureaucracy, less autonomy and plenty more jargon.
"Rural diversification", "policy directions", "critical mass" . . . Maybe it's time to call a halt on our overuse of buzz words and get back to basics.
Let's be clinical in our discussion about rural development. The Border, Midland and Western (BMW) region has been given Objective One status. What benefits has it brought? Where are the tangible signs of a reversal in rural decline? Consider the following realities:
A shortfall of €644 million in spending through the National Development Plan (NDP) for the BMW.
The IDA report for 2002 identifies 20 new projects for the country, none of which is located in the BMW region.
1,300 jobs have been lost in the north-west, 2,736 in the west and 725 in the midlands.
What does sustainable development mean to the people who lost these jobs, and what difference does it actually make to a region? The answer is, of course, that the lifeblood of that region is drained away and you are left with a situation whereby there are only seven pupils in some primary schools.
If a seven-pupil school cannot be sustained (even on a pilot basis) what hope is there for the future? The school patron was told of the decision. In the response to the parliamentary question, the word "consultation" is used.
There is a big difference between consultation and "being told". I had to send in an FOI request (and €15, of course!) just to find out what commitments or decisions were taken in relation to the closure. Hardly a sign of positive engagement by the Government on this matter.
The human story in Fanad is multifaceted. A community, a microcosm of rural Ireland, showing solidarity to preserve their way of life. A community living in fear of subsequent negative changes in the countryside.
Report after report highlights present and imminent threats to a rural way of life. Solutions range from broadband to motorways, transnational co-operation to fostering indigenous industry.
Committees, sub-committees, forums, policy groups and task forces consume millions of euro of taxpayers' money on think tanks and brainstorm sessions.
Sometimes we get so carried away that we become oblivious to the main ingredient that sustains communities. People. A positive planning policy combined with the provision of and investment in services i.e. rural housing, small schools, post offices, shops, pubs, is key to this model. Job creation at a local level goes hand in glove with the above.
To Mr Ó Cuív's credit, he has broadband at the top of his wish list. Once again, the onus rests at Cabinet level, a Cabinet that needs to address the current deficit of €644 million in the BMW region.
Witnessing a school's closure is nothing new to many people living in rural Ireland. In fact, many will argue a good case for closing a seven-pupil school. But the issue of rural depopulation has been a theme ingrained in the psyche of every citizen from Malin Head to Mizen Head. People do feel alienated, there is a collective sense of grief whenever a school or post office closes down.
The closure of Doaghbeg School is only a symptom of rural decline, the local community united in their attempt to echo their discontent. If we live in a democratic republic, there has to be room for negotiation. If not, we will further erode an already diminishing faith in our political system. At the time of writing, parents and children in Doaghbeg still live in hope for a reopening. Hopefully, this will be the case.