THERE WAS an old lady who lived next door when I was very young. She'd sit in front of the damp turf fire, keening, "We were brought into this world for pain and suffering, a stór. Pain and suffering!" It must have sunk in, because I failed to be convinced by the "I'm worth it" years and instead wake up this morning in a state of benign resignation rather than bitter resentment. Pain and suffering. Sure. Where do I sign?, writes SARAH CAREY
People say the pain must be distributed fairly. I agree. So let’s get the 40 per cent of people who voted Fianna Fáil for the past 10 years and cut their child benefit by 100 per cent and increase their tax rates to 80 per cent. That’d be fair.
Unfortunately we can’t do that, so those of us who yelped in horror as the fruits of the good years were blown on cheque-book industrial relations and vote-buying have to take the pain too. I accept that. What’s interesting is the denial of those who don’t. For example, Peter McLoone wrote with flair in this paper yesterday, as if unmasking the villain in Scooby Doo, that: “The Government’s decision to reject the deal on offer from the public service unions last week revealed that its determination to drive down wages – for all of us in the private and public sectors – is the unshakeable cornerstone of its economic and social policy.” Gasp!
Em, yes Peter. That’s the whole point. Across the board devaluation and cost-cutting – back to 2003 levels, we think. There are three reasons why this is the plan.
First, we got it wrong. Rather than hiking salaries to sustain a property bubble, we should have squeezed credit and kept a lid on wages to contain the insanity. Second, we created a structural deficit that must be eliminated. Third, we need to get people back to work. Economics 101 teaches us that when the cost of a product is cut the demand goes up. If we reduce the cost of employment, it’ll make it cheaper to employ someone, and help create jobs. Reducing wages is not a dastardly secret plan. It’s the only rational option.
Oh sorry, there’s another reason. The money’s gone. So that’s Government policy. What’s Peter’s policy? The laughable unpaid leave proposal that resulted in spontaneous revolt by even the dullest of dullards on the FF backbenches, revealed that Irish Congress of Trade Unions (ICTU’s) determination to accept pay cuts on the strict condition that they’re not called pay cuts is the cornerstone of its economic policy.
What’s that about? Here’s my Scooby Doo moment. Stand back, Shaggy – the villain in this piece is none other than the retired secretary general whose current pension is now more than his final salary. He’s paid off his mortgage, educated his children and made a packet when he traded down the family home. Between the free travel pass and TV licence, so far he’s the only guy who hasn’t had to experience any of the pain. That is, unless he bought bank shares with the profit from the house. Still, he’s in demand as a board member so there’s still a little extra coming in. Unpaid leave hurts those depending on public services. Unpaid leave hurts the public servant, especially the lower paid, because their take-home pay is reduced. Unpaid leave is a once-off, unwieldy joke that will not make the savings we need. The only reason to suggest unpaid leave as a method of saving money is because by preserving on paper the final salary of a benchmarked position, the only person it doesn’t hurt is the retired public servant. It’s the same reason last year’s pay cut was called a pension levy.
Ictu’s policy is not to stand up and protect Laura’s public services, but Laura’s Daddy’s benchmarked pension. And they talk about fair? What’s fair about that?
And let’s be clear about this. John Bruton is a public service pensioner. Mary Robinson is a public service pensioner. The 52-year-old garda, fit, healthy and starting his second career, is a public service pensioner. So, too, is the revenue commissioner who just took early retirement to beat the contribution caps, but will get hired back as a consultant.
These aren’t old ladies rocking in front of the fire, slowly dying of undiagnosed cancer. These are perfectly strong people who don’t need trade union leaders to protect them. So let’s call a spade a spade, a pay cut a pay cut, and get those pensioners to share this pain.
As for pain, let’s remember there are two ways to treat it. In 1982 we had a national deficit akin to a diseased organ. For five long painful years we tried medication, and by 1987 we were on life support.
Then Prof Mac was appointed head of surgery; Dr Dukes assisted, and our diseased deficit was cut from a howling patient. It wasn’t easy but, before we knew it, wasn’t the Irish economy racing around on prosthetic limbs and everything worked out fine.
That’s the thing about pain. It’s not so bad once it’s quick. Let’s make this 1987 and not 1982. Nurse, scalpel please.
