Attending to fragility and preciousness of our natural environment eases the urgency of political heaves, writes BREDA O'BRIEN
BEING ON holidays in my home village of Stradbally, Co Waterford, this week gave an interesting slant to the Fine Gael leadership challenge. While there may be an urban-rural divide within the party, from admittedly unscientific fieldwork in the villages of Stradbally and neighbouring Bonmahon, I can report there was no urban- rural divide in the reaction to the heave.
People in the city, and in the country, are completely united in thinking that Fine Gael has lost the plot. That includes people who have been staunch Blueshirts since birth.
But there is no doubt that being out of Dublin does give a greater sense of distance, sometimes veering into indifference. Or in the memorable words of one neighbour: “The country is banjaxed one way or another.”
But is it, really? I found myself pondering that question when stooped over a rock pool in Ballyvooney Cove near Stradbally some days ago. The tireless Tidy Towns committee had organised a beach clean-up, followed by an exploration of the ecology.
Is the country really banjaxed, or at least any more banjaxed than a few years ago? We were living in la-la land, and now we know the truth. Surely we are better off facing reality, no matter how grim, rather than continuing to delude ourselves?
Introducing the beach exploration, noted entomologist Stephen McCormack said Tidy Towns had started as a way of enhancing the area, but had increasingly become a way of appreciating the local environment and what we already have in the natural world.
Appreciating what we have. The mood in the country is far from that, and yet, without that attitude, we will not find our way through the various crises that confront us.
Ballyvooney Cove is one of my favourite places. My brother's farm runs down to the cliffs on one side, and a wreck of a ship visible at low tide on the other side is part of family lore. In February 1926 a Spanish-registered ship the Cirilo Amoreswas driven aground in Ballyvooney during a violent storm.
My grandfather, William O’Brien, arrived first, followed rapidly by another local man, Jack O’Keefe. A lifeboat was launched, but was smashed to pieces on the rocks. A rope attached to a heavy cable was thrown from the ship. Risking his life, my grandfather waded out in the towering waves. With great difficulty, he and Jack O’Keefe hauled the heavy cable up the cliff, and secured it. Twenty-five men were hauled to safety.
My grandfather got five shillings for his part in the rescue, and Jack O’Keefe got two shillings and sixpence. Apparently, there was as high a regard for courage and leadership in 1926 as there is now.
While I might know some of the history, marine biologist Claire Moore, who took over the beach tour, showed me how much I had to learn about the place I thought I knew like the back of my hand. For example, the beach that is often dismissed by locals as too stony is of some importance from a conservation point of view, because it is one of only seven intact and therefore species-rich shingle beaches in the county. Internationally, they are recognised as an important but declining resource.
McCormack was the first to spot a sea hare, a slug-like creature. I had never noticed one, perhaps because it so closely resembles the seaweed it feeds on. Moore was fascinated to find so many mid-shore, as they are normally found sub-tidally or at the low water line.
You might pass by Ballyvooney with scarcely a glance, but it is a thriving, relatively untouched habitat, ironically in part because it is an unpopular space to swim.
McCormack also told me that the area on the other side of Ballyvooney Bridge is a habitat for a rare water beetle, Hydraena testacea, or shelled moss beetle, which is only found in about 12 places in Ireland.
Endangered and vulnerable species of insects go on what is called the Red List, and one-third of Irish species of water beetle are on it, including the shelled moss beetle.
I realise that many of my Stradbally neighbours would consider that living in the big smoke too long has addled my brain, seeing as I am getting so excited about water beetles and sea hares. Yet a relatively unspoiled environment is a treasure that perhaps you only appreciate when you are not looking at it every day.
Do we need events like the massive American oil spill to remind us how fragile and irreplaceable that environment is?
It is frustrating that the abortive Fine Gael heave garners so much attention, while so many other questions remain ignored. For example, attempting to work our way out of the current financial crisis will mean little if it simply perpetuates the inequality in our society, and leaves unquestioned and unchallenged the values that drive our system.
Chief among those values is an attitude that sees the natural world only as something to be plundered for profit, regardless of the long-term consequences for our planet.
We say we want passion and vision in politics, but do we really? Sinn Féin and the Greens have both in spades, yet have never attracted high levels of support. Sinn Féin suffer from a past tainted by violence, and the Greens suffer from a double whammy.
Firstly, there is a suspicion that people who care about the environment are somehow too unworldly to be put in charge of important things like the economy, and secondly, there is a climate crisis so terrifying that most of us switch straight into denial.
The blood sport we call a party leadership contest is more entertaining than discussing the challenges facing our country and our world. Yet, is our country really banjaxed, or does it only look that way because we are in thrall to a model of development that is unsustainable? Changing leaders in one of the parties, or retaining one, doesn’t bring us any closer to answers to this question.
But maybe it really is true that we get the politicians we deserve. Now, isn’t that a scary thought?