What chance of diversity in the next Seanad?

I don’t imagine that the elections for the Seanad will deliver as much sound and fury as the General Election for the Dail. Quite rightly too – the Upper House is a secondary chamber which doesn’t govern the country. But it still seems to me to be important, and to bring another dimension to the national conversation.

As we’re coming up to the centenary of the foundation of the Irish state in 1922, it’s fascinating to examine the first Senate, instituted by the Cumann na nGaedheal government led by W.T. Cosgrave.

The Irish Free State is sometimes described as ‘a Catholic state’ by historians (a few have even called it a ‘theocratic’ state), but the Cosgrave administration strove earnestly to make that first Senate (as it was then called) ecumenical.

Gesture

Sixteen out of 32 candidates nominated by the Irish government were not Catholic, as a deliberate gesture of inclusivity. They included the whiskey magnate Andrew Jameson, and the brewing businessman Henry Guinness. Lord Glenavy – Patrick Campbell – a salty old Unionist was Chairman: his wife, Beatrice Elvery, no less spirited, was a renowned artist, and her portrait is prominently displayed in Dublin’s Arts Club to this day.

A collection of belted earls mightn’t be everyone’s idea of modern legislators”

The Marquess of Headfort, the Earls of Kerry, Granard and Mayo were made Senators, as was Sir Horace Plunkett, the agricultural reformer who had dedicated his life to land reform and enhancement. For his pains, the anti-Treaty forces burned out his home, Kilteragh, in Foxrock.

Sir Henry Greer, another Protestant with roots in the North, a knowledgeable expert at the National Stud, became a senator. As did, Ellen Countess of Desart, a Jewish philanthropist. Bryan Cooper, the rakish old landlord of Markree Castle, Co. Sligo, joined the group and eventually became a TD for Cumann na nGaedheal (which became Fine Gael in 1933).

The raffish Oliver St John Gogarty went to the Upper House, as did the poet W.B. Yeats, an outspoken senator – and an aesthetic one, overseeing the artistic design for the Irish currency.

Supporters

A collection of belted earls mightn’t be everyone’s idea of modern legislators, but the principle which prompted their nomination was a decent one: to include individuals who hadn’t necessarily been supporters of their political masters.

And that’s the question that should be asked about our contemporary Seanad: does it just echo the voice of the prevailing, majority political parties or does it include individuals who bring genuine diversity and even originality of thinking?

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It can be hard for the best of us to practice what we preach

It must have been nearly ten years ago when Paul Kelly [pictured] came to my Dublin flat to talk about setting up a charity for the victims of suicide.

He spoke about the suicide of his sister, which occurred when he was a young man, and how much it had affected him. He truly believed suicide could be prevented. He agreed when I suggested that the Christian Churches had forbidden suicide precisely because it was so harmful for the survivors as well as to the pitiful suicidal person.

I believed his story and I wrote an article which helped to launch the suicide charity Console.

Revelation

Earlier this month, Mr Kelly took his own life, having been disgraced by the revelation that he had used funds donated to Console to furnish a lavish lifestyle for himself and his wife, Patricia.

Just as our conversation had stressed, his death by his own hand left others in a lamentable situation. Clients and staff at the charity had been badly let down by the bankruptcy of Console.

Yet I still believe that Paul Kelly was sincere about mourning his sister’s death, and genuine about wanting to deter suicide. But, when the money came in, he weakly yielded to the temptation to use it for his own self-indulgence.

Charities are needed to help prevent suicide (Pieta, for example, does an admirable job.) But it can be hard to practice what you preach, and it can be hardest of all to have the courage and fortitude to face up to your crimes and misdemeanours, as it seems that Paul could not.

In popular novels of yore, suicide was often described as ‘the coward’s way out’. This is too harsh for our times, but the opposite it surely true: it’s braver to live and face the music.