Month: February 2022

On Monday 21^st February, An Garda Siochana Tweeted, ‘On this day in 1922 the very first recruits joined An Garda Síochána and made their way to Dublin’s RDS to begin their formal training. 100 years on, over 14,000 Gardaí nationwide are dedicated to protecting communities and keeping the people of Ireland safe.’

As I read that, it brought me back to when I started in 1979, a mere fifty-seven years after those guys. Arriving at the gates of the Garda College in Templemore, Co. Tipperary on a cold December day was a shock to the system. There was a security barrier at the entrance with a guard room just inside and it looked anything but welcoming.

There were about ninety of us standing there, suitcases in hand, wondering what the next move was going to be. This strange looking barracks was going to be our home for the next six months. It looked large and imposing and according to John Reynolds, a garda historian, the Garda College was originally constructed as Richmond barracks in 1815 on a fifty-seven-acre site.

When completed, it was one of the largest barracks in Ireland with accommodation for ‘54 officers, 1500 men and 30 horses, a hospital for 80 patients; a bridewell; a fever hospital and a dispensary, ball, news and reading rooms, and a public billiard table’.

By 1909 Richmond barracks had been vacated, and Templemore town council was informed by the War Office that there was ‘no prospect of troops being quartered there in the near future’. However, the outbreak of World War 1 in August 1914 brought a reversal of this policy, and between October 1914 and March 1915, Richmond became a prisoner of war camp, holding over 2,300 German soldiers who had been captured on the western front.

The two barrack squares were divided into four huge cages, complete with searchlights, barbed wire and sentry towers. I didn’t know that at the time, but it does explain why I felt like a prisoner as soon as I went under the barrier.

We were herded into a large hall where different people took it in turns to shout at us. We got lots of instructions, orders and insults and at some stage in the proceedings, we were attested. We stood together and took an oath to serve and protect and signed on with the State for the next thirty years. I was now part of something big and these people were my new colleagues.

We were shown to our accommodation, a large room with a high ceiling, divided down the middle by a timber partition with three beds on each side. It reminded me of an old hospital ward. The partition was about seven foot high and didn’t reach the ceiling, so it was easy to have a conversation with the guy’s next door. Easy to throw things over too and not always in a helpful way.

The first night was quiet. We kept to ourselves as we adjusted to the new surroundings and sussed each other out. At 11pm I was startled when a bugle sounded over the intercom system. This was our signal to turn out the lights and get to bed. I hadn’t been told to go to bed since my early childhood, but this was my new life.

I didn’t sleep much. There were too many strange sounds and I remember thinking at one point that I might have made a terrible mistake. I was doubting whether I would stick it out for six months but thankfully that feeling didn’t last long.

There was another surprise in store for us the next morning when the bugle sounded again over the speaker. It was only 7am but time to get up. The tannoy was operated by the guys in the guard room. Their function was to ensure the security of the facility and monitor who came and went so there was always someone there.

One guy in particular must have thought he was working for a pirate radio station. He often played music in the early hours of the morning over the tannoy and in between songs he would tell stories about his life. When we were more established, it wasn’t unusual for speakers to be broken by flying boots trying to shut him up.

After a shower, it was time to head to the mess hall for breakfast. Queueing for food was another new experience and we soon realised there were advantages to being near the top of the queue. The sooner you got to the food, the better.

Some got up as soon as the bugle sounded and went straight for the grub to get the best of it. Others who left it to the last miniute, got the concrete eggs and porridge that resembled wallpaper paste.

After breakfast, we got into our uniforms and lined up outside the classrooms for a quick inspection. Making sure the shoes were polished, the uniform was clean, and hair was neat and tidy. Then it was time for lectures, including police studies, self-defence, swimming and life-saving lessons, drill and gym work. In the evening, there were supervised study periods and after that we were free to leave the centre and go down-town.

We had to sign out in the guardroom and sign back in no later than 11pm. A trip to the Templemore Arms for a pint or two was a welcome taste of freedom as long as you weren’t late getting back. Tricky sometimes too, with the sergeant in the guard room on the lookout for cases of insobriety.

On Sunday mornings, we marched to 10am mass in the town in full uniform whether we liked it or not. The metal studs on our boots let everyone know we were coming. Vivid memories still after all these years.

Trevor Laffan has received the ‘Irelands Leading Columnist Award’ for his outstanding contribution to journalism. It’s not true but it has a nice ring to it, and it seems there is a way to make it happen. Apparently, all I have to do is pay for a page of advertising with Public Sector Magazine and in return, I will get an award.

I discovered this after Eir announced on Twitter recently, that they had won the ‘Excellence in Customer Services Management Award,’ awarded by @PublicSectorIRL 2021 Excellence in Business Awards. They received their award from Public Sector Magazine, but the news raised some questions about the nomination and selection process.

On RTE’s Liveline programme, Joe Duffy was inundated with listeners anxious to talk about their negative experiences of dealing with Eir Customer Service and the majority of callers were astonished to hear they won something.

When I checked the magazine’s website to find out how I could qualify, I found this message “We’ll be back soon! We’re currently updating our website and will return shortly. Thank you for your patience.”

Well, patience is one thing you would need when dealing with Eir as I discovered a few years ago. I signed up for a package that included broadband, three mobile phones, a landline and Sky Sports. That decision will probably go down in this family’s history as one of the worst I have ever made. I think I may have suffered Post Traumatic Stress Disorder after the experience.

My story began in 2016, when I heard that fibre optic broadband was coming to my area. In October that year, a young lady called to my door from Eir. They used to be called Eircom but changed the name to Eir because, well I don’t really know why. I’m pretty sure it’s the same service and the same people. Anyway, the young lady was happy to announce that the new top of the range broadband would be available within a few weeks. I was excited.

She told me to ring Eir to order it, so I did. I went through the usual routine, picked one of the four options, pressed the hash key, picked one of the next four options and pressed the star key, picked the option that most suited my needs, and waited for an eternity before finally talking to a human.

I told the voice about my meeting with the young lady, and I advised her I was now ready to sign up. Well, that was great news for the lady in Eircom, now called Eir, and she was happy to assist me, but I had to wait ten days. I explained that I would be out of the country by then so if she could just make a little note on my account that I wanted it set up, I would be very grateful.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t possible. She told me I would have to ring up personally on day ten to book the broadband. As soon as I returned, I made another call to Eircom, now called Eir, and went through the familiar routine of choosing options, pressing hash keys and waiting patiently. I eventually spoke to a lady, told her my story and off she went to make sure the service was still available, and happily it was.

Just as I was about to sign up, she told me that as soon as I placed the order, my Internet would be disconnected until the new broadband was hooked up which would take a minimum of five working days, excluding weekends.

As we were heading into a Bank Holiday weekend, that disconnection period would be longer so, I decided to postpone it until after the long weekend. When I got back onto Eircom, now called Eir, I got through to a very pleasant young man and he listened patiently as I told my tale once more.

He checked that the broadband was still available in my area, and it was, and it should be connected in less than the five days. But there was a new problem. The portal in my area was now full and there was no room for any new customers, so he told me to try again in a week.

A week later I called back and spoke to another young lady. I repeated the entire story once more and I told her that I was ready to go if there was some room in the portal for me. I didn’t want much, I wasn’t going to be greedy, I just needed a tiny bit.

Well, good news. There was room, but because of a huge demand for the new service, I would have to wait for two weeks, and I would be without the Internet for that period. So, the nice lady suggested that I should wait until the New Year when the demand would be reduced, and I would be able to get the service quicker.

So, that’s what I did. I waited for the new year and eventually got connected. But that wasn’t the end of the story. Things got very complicated after that, and I lost count of the number of calls I made to customer care. Each call meant retelling my story to a new representative and another hour of explanations and promises that the problem would be resolved, but it wasn’t. Bills were sent to us for things we didn’t sign up for and phones were disconnected.

They reduced my wife to tears and I eventually reached the stage where I couldn’t take any more. I contacted the Communications Regulator (Com Reg). They took up my complaint and shortly after that, the matter was resolved. So, I reckon, if any awards are being handed out, the Communications Regulator should get one.

I joined An Garda Siochana in 1979 without putting too much thought into it. It was more of a whim, but it worked out ok in the end. Although not long after walking through the gates of the Garda College in Templemore, a few doubts did creep into my mind when I found myself in a large hall, watching a guy giving a demonstration on how to make a bed.

I wasn’t very experienced in the bed making department, but I still wondered if it was really necessary to be getting lessons. These days, it’s a lot simpler, you simply straighten out a duvet but back then, we had no such luxury. We had grey, hairy woollen blankets with a top sheet and a bottom sheet, and every morning they had to be folded and stacked on the bed – military style.

The blankets had a couple of lines running horizontally across each one and when they were folded, the line had to run along the fold, and it had to be straight. The blankets were then stacked on top of one another, and the folded sheets went on top of them, followed by the pillow. That pile was inspected at some stage during the day by a qualified bed inspector and there would be consequences for any breaches of the folding etiquette.

We joked about this but looking back on it now, I can see the thinking behind it. It was all part of the discipline process we were being introduced to, like marching, saluting and uniform inspections. Making the bed first thing in the morning sets the tone for the rest of the day and it’s a habit I’ve retained all my life. Unfortunately, it never extended to the younger members of my household.

Contrary to what some commentators suggest, An Garda Siochana is a disciplined organisation. The rules and regulations are laid out in the Garda Siochana Code which is a tome we all received when we came through the gates of the Garda College and retained until we handed it back on retirement.

This rule book guided us throughout our service but like every organisation, we had our black sheep too. Some broke the rules as evidenced by the revelations in Crimes & Confessions, a three-part series on RTÉ One which aired recently.

The RTE promotional piece described this programme as a ground-breaking three-part true-crime series looking at three of the most notorious miscarriages of justice cases from the 1970s and 1980’s and draws links between them. It promised to shine a light on rumours of a Garda Heavy Gang, the existence of which has been denied for over forty years.

I watched the three episodes and found them difficult viewing. Having spent over thirty-five years working in An Garda Siochana made it all the more uncomfortable. The stories of coerced statements of admission, beatings and abuse were hard to listen to. The alleged behaviour of those gardai cannot under any circumstances be condoned.

Listening to those stories brought about a range of emotions. I was embarrassed at first but then I got angry. I was angry at the investigators. Not only for what they allegedly did to those unfortunate people, but also for what they have done to the reputation of an organisation I was proud to be a part of.

I was aware of the existence of the murder squad, and I had heard the term ‘Heavy Gang’ but I didn’t know anybody attached to it. I never saw them in action either so I can’t offer any clarification on the tactics they used. The programme referred to interrogators, a special group within the Murder Squad known as the ‘Heavy Gang’, who allegedly assaulted and threatened suspects to obtain confessions. I don’t know how many of them are still alive today, but it would be interesting to hear from them or from anyone else who could shed light on the activities of this group.

They may have been few in number, the figure of twenty has been mentioned, but they have caused a lot of hurt. Not only to the injured parties and their families, but also to the decent members, past and present, of An Garda Siochana who performed their duty with distinction. They now find themselves under a cloud of suspicion, guilty by association, because of the deeds of a few. And they were only a few.

The RTE series, makes it difficult to deny the existence of a ‘Heavy Gang.’ The condemnation and the criticism that followed the airing of the programme has to be taken on the chin by An Garda Siochana and they must ensure nothing like that ever happens again. On a more positive note, there have been many changes since then.

The video recording of interviews in garda stations now provides protection for prisoners and suspects. The rules and regulations governing the treatment of persons in custody in garda stations have completely changed too with designated officers in place with specific responsibility for their safety.

It’s still not a perfect organisation but it is vastly different to the one I joined in 1979. The events depicted in the programme happened over forty years ago and those involved have long since retired or are deceased. It’s up to others to determine what should happen in relation to those allegations.

Since then, thousands of men and women have served An Garda Siochana well. Many paid the ultimate sacrifice by giving their lives in the service of the State. I was proud to wear the uniform and fortunate to have encountered some exceptional men and women during my time. I experienced many courageous and heroic deeds performed by my colleagues and witnessed some amazing displays of humanity along the way too.

That should also be remembered.

I read recently that an eleven-year-old wheelchair user made an appeal to dog owners to clean up after their dogs. He said no matter how careful he is, he often ends up with dog poo on his wheels on the way to school. Then he has to get his mother to push him the rest of the way and that upsets him.

Closer to home, my wife took our grandchild out for a walk last week. It was her maiden voyage with the pram, and she wasn’t gone long but by the time she arrived back, one of the wheels was covered in dog muck.

The following day, I collected two of my grandsons for school. I drove into their estate and pulled up outside the house at 8.30am. As the two lads ran out the front door, I grabbed the smaller guy just before he stepped into a pile of dog poo that had been deposited at their entrance. They don’t own a dog.

The fact that it hadn’t been washed away by the rain during the night meant it had arrived there sometime earlier that morning so there are two possible explanations.

The first one is that someone had walked a dog there and allowed it to defecate outside someone else’s door and didn’t bother cleaning it up. And the second one is that someone had left the dog out first thing in the morning with the intention of allowing it to wander the estate until it found a suitable location to empty its bowel. That person obviously didn’t care where it happened as long as it wasn’t outside their own front door.

Both scenarios are unacceptable but far from unusual. Unfortunately, too many dog owners have little or no respect for their neighbours or the environment. That ‘couldn’t care less’ attitude is very prevalent and I don’t know how we can fix it. There are regulations and laws relating to the control of dogs and there are punishments for owners who refuse to abide by them, but they’re not enforced.

Appealing to their better nature doesn’t work either. The Irish Examiner reported last year that the City Council had launched a campaign to win hearts and minds of dog owners and sought to identify “habitual abusers” to encourage them to take responsibility for cleaning up after their dog. It was a carrot and stick approach focused on encouragement and education and it maybe was worth a shot, but it was a wasted effort.

Enforcement isn’t working either. Fines haven’t been issued in years because, we’re told, it’s too complicated. That’s evidenced by the fact that not a single dog fouling fine was issued in Cork City between 2017 and 2020 and just two were issued in 2021. A pretty dismal record.

Dog fouling is not a new problem. Politicians will tell you they constantly hear complaints from their constituents about it. Claire Byrne, of the Green Party said, “It’s coming up on the doors, we see it ourselves all the time, and I think it’s getting worse rather than better.” Cork’s Labour local area representative, Peter Horgan, has called for new legislation to tackle it. Given the poor record of the local authority to get results, you’d have to wonder if there is a genuine will on behalf of any of them to really get to grips with it.

They’ve been hearing about it for a while. In January 1967, fifty-five years ago, a letter writer to the Evening Echo questioned why Fitzgerald Park, a small, beautiful park, allowed dogs to foul up all the pathways. In 1968, the following year, the Evening Echo published a letter of complaint written by a disappointed visitor to Cork.

It was the third visit of the writer and his wife to Cork, and they usually stayed in Well Road, which they described as one of the most picturesque parts of the county. He said while the residents were improving their property, the Council seemed to have forgotten about the area. The roads were filthy, having been fouled by cattle and uncontrolled dogs and it was almost impossible to walk from the Cross to the Well Road after dark for fear of walking through the mess.

“Recently, wearing sandals, my feet were in a disgusting state by the time I reached home. I will again be over here for a few weeks next year, as I love the quiet and solitude of the countryside and would like to retire here in a few years’ time, but if the city is not looked after by the Council, in five years’ time, when I hope to settle here, one will not have a road or pavement to walk on.”

That was very prophetic of the writer. I don’t know if he did manage to retire here but if he did, he was probably disappointed to see that as far as dog fouling is concerned, he was spot on.

But it’s not only a problem in this jurisdiction. In 1975, the Evening Echo reported that London was working on the problem of what to do about dogs that ‘do things’ on the sidewalk. They had a novel idea and introduced street inspectors who walked around their respective areas citing people whose dogs had fouled the footpaths.

These inspectors identified, with less technology than is available today, that most of the offences occurred between 7.30 and 8.30 in the morning and at sunset in the evening. That was forty-seven years ago yet, we still employ dog wardens to work from 9am to 5pm and then wonder why there are so few prosecutions.

Peter Horgan wants high-visibility enforcement, which is very laudable, but it won’t make a blind bit of difference unless the enforcers follow the same roster as the dogs.