The Last Straw: People from the rest of Ireland rightly complain that the media can be very Dublin-centred, so they must have been pleased with the coverage given to the latest list of tax defaulters.
As a correspondent to this paper has pointed out (Letters to the Editor, March 30th), a whopping 87 per cent of those listed were from outside Dublin. Despite this, the city-based newspapers generously printed all their names and addresses. Good to see the provinces getting a look in, for a change.
Okay, this was not the main point of Gerard Kelly's letter. His point was that the list suggests non-Dubliners are disproportionately liable to evade tax, compared with "us honest Dubs". And calling on them to display some "real patriotism", he wrote: "May I remind our wealthy extra-Pale citizens, who often claim to the true Irish, that the Union Jack no longer flies over Dublin Castle? In fact, it has not done so for over 80 years."
His use of the term "extra-Pale" is not a reference to the colour these citizens went after receiving their tax demands (although, with some bogus non-resident account holders, pasty complexions may have alerted investigators to the possibility that the Cayman islands address was false). The reference is to the historic Pale: for centuries the limit of British rule in Ireland and still - Kelly suggests - a psychological border in the independent Republic. He even mutters darkly that if extra-Pale citizens don't start contributing their share, Dubliners may have to think about "going our own way".
Personally, I think the two-state solution would be a bit rash. The security fence alone would cost a fortune, and the logistics of evacuating Dubliners from their holiday homes would make Israeli withdrawal from the West Bank look like a picnic.
No. If the tax list does indicate lack of allegiance to the State, the challenge must be to persuade the Irish outside the Pale to give up their renegade ways. But how? As chance would have it, I spent the past week in rebel west Cork, where locals are fiercely proud of their struggle against the "80 years of oppression" as it's known here. In fact, my family and I had barely arrived when we were ourselves breaking the Dublin-imposed law. Back from a day on the beach, delayed by a forced trip to the rented house to wring the children out, and still chasing the hour we'd lost with the clock change, we discovered that the only place serving food in our local village was a pub.
But you guessed it: it was almost 9pm - the watershed, after which minors are not allowed in bars. Luckily, this part of Cork had not recognised the move to summertime: it was still winter (of 1920) here. So after wrestling with our consciences, and winning easily, we had dinner in the snug. It was a Fields of Athenry situation, I reasoned. The children were starving; and I wasn't even stealing Trevelyan's corn, I was paying for it. Still, we felt like Tom Barry's flying column. We ate quickly and left, before the 'Tans got wind of our position.
We Irish are not the world's most law-abiding people, generally. Even in Dublin, we regard things such as traffic lights, speed limits and one-way street signs as having a purely advisory role, rather than anything more binding.
But the licensing laws are clearly a special case. These have never been fully accepted in Ireland because they're seen as a legacy of colonialism. Drinking after hours remains for many of us an act of quiet patriotism. Even Government politicians can do it, and nobody cares. Which is why the success of the smoking ban (which not even Opposition politicians are allowed to break) is so striking. A year on, the measure is universally respected, even in Cork. Never mind the 93 per cent approval rating. The acid test is that Micheál Martin could drive through the VFI-held strongholds of west Cork in an open-topped car without fear of ambush.
I don't know of any pubs in the county that opened on Good Friday. But I'm sure there were some. And such is the respect for the ban that I bet customers were required to interrupt their illegal drinking to go out and smoke in the doorway (the back doorway, obviously).
Yes, this all seems a long way from the issue of tax compliance. But my point, insofar as I have one, is that the smoking ban has been a huge boost to the legitimacy of the Dublin Government outside the Pale. Unlikely as it seems, it has taken the removal of one small part of Irish freedom to underline the message that a new flag is flying over Dublin Castle. The rest should be a mopping-up operation.
