An Irishman's Diary

IN LIGHT of the Fred Goodwin knighthood debacle, our more cautious Irish honours system – whereby we wait until people are dead before speaking well of them (and then grudgingly) – looks a bit wiser today than usually.

Maybe Goodwin's will be an isolated case. But I sense a new fanaticism among the normally phlegmatic British. Although it will hardly reach French levels, whatever happens, I foresee a reign of terror over the next few years, as more and more financiers from the ancien régimeare wheeled in tumbrils to Buckingham Palace to have their titles lopped off.

It has become a tradition on this island for public figures to lament the absence of a formal honours scheme like Britain’s: one that, among other things, would reward excellence while the recipients were still alive. Indeed, recent callers for such a system included the then taoiseach in 2007. And right there, you can see the problem.

In fairness to Bertie Ahern, it was the golfer Padraig Harrington’s success that inspired that particular call. And bad as Harrington’s decline in form has been since, it has not yet reached the stage where he would need to be stripped of his knighthood, or whatever we had conferred on him.

Even so. Had there been an Irish honours system during the bubble years, it would not have stopped with sports people. The words “Arise, Sir Seanie”, or something similar, would surely have been heard. In certain cases, we might now be seeking to have the titles extradited from Massachussetts.

THE TROUBLEwith honours systems is that they to be like commercial rent reviews: upward only. Recipients are rewarded for what appear to be definitive achievements. Whereas, while people live and breathe, such judgments are always liable to be premature.

At the risk of blowing my own trumpet, I have to say that Goodwin’s dishonouring has only strengthened my previously-stated argument that we should adapt the Michelin star-rating system for an Irish honours scheme A new list would be published every year, just as with the queen’s awards. But under my plan, previous honorees would be subject to annual reassessment and so could never rest on their laurels (or whatever). If a once high-performing citizen dropped his standards, he would face losing at least one star, with all the resultant humiliation. It would be up to him then to win it back the following year.

Critics will say that, given the (g)astronomical standards required for top rating, many citizens – like many restaurants – would limit their ambitions to one or two stars. This would advertise their excellence, while still allowing them to have fun. But so what, I say? Even that would encourage an overall improvement in citizenship quality.

There is no such flexibility in the British system. Like most honours schemes, theirs is all-or-nothing. Saying which, I note that each of the British honours can be formally abbreviated by three letters: from OBE up to KBE.

So could it be, I wonder, that a factor in Fred Goodwin’s humiliation is the brutal example set by his former champions in the ratings agencies? After all, they too have a habit of awarding three-letter verdicts to everyone and everything. And if whole countries can be downgraded at the whim of men in suits, why should a KBE be safe? Maybe there’s no connection between the two things. Still, I couldn’t help noticing that among the coverage of Goodwin yesterday was a column in a Scottish newspaper calling him the “Ally McLeod of our time”. The reference here was to a tragically confident football manager who took the Scots to the 1978 World Cup Finals, promising “at least a medal”.

Like Goodwin, McLeod saw no reason why a small country could not dominate the world. And his bullishness gave rise to the phenomenon known as “Ally’s Army”. That was until defeat to Peru and a draw with Iran saw the AA downgraded to junk status.

After that, not even Archie Gemill’s famous goal against Holland could save them.

MORE SERIOUSLY, but still on the subject of honours (and Holland), a man named Jory Verhagen has been in touch, seeking help from Irish Timesreaders. He works for a museum in the Dutch town of Geffen, which was liberated by the British army in October 1944. And among those liberators was an Irishman, Martin Fitzgerald, subsequently awarded a Military Cross for his actions.

The museum is now preparing an exhibition about the second World War, in which Fitzgerald will feature prominently. And thanks to a book that mentions his story and to details furnished by various history societies in Dublin, they know quite a bit about him.

That he was born in June 1917, for example. That he was a son of Senator Martin T Fitzgerald of Ailesbury Road, Dublin. That he married a Rosaleen Dunn. And that they had a daughter named Catherine Ann, born in January 1942. What the museum lacks, mainly, are photographs.

In fact, a picture of “Captain Martin Fitzgerald” made the front page of this newspaper on June 16th, 1945, taken on the occasion of his receiving the cross from another Irishman, Gen Montgomery. It was a posthumous publication, unfortunately: the caption noting that Fitzgerald had since been killed.

But the picture is in any case small and dark and unsuitable for reproduction. Perhaps there are surviving friends of relatives with better ones. If so, they are asked to contact Mr Verhagen, c/o Torenmuseum De Peperbus, Molenstraat 14, 5386 AB, Geffen, Holland, or by e-mail to torenmuseum@gmail.com.