Synopsis of the 2005 citizen journalism article and Subsequent Comments

The original article, published on a citizen journalism site on December 12, 2005, by Michelle Clarke (under the banner of “Social Justice and Ethics”), uses Dublin Castle as a symbolic focal point to critique corruption in Irish society and politics. It highlights the castle’s historical significance as a remnant of British rule, now ironically hosting tribunals investigating corruption among Irish elites, including politicians from the 1980s era of economic hardship, high unemployment, and emigration. Clarke draws on “Dublin wit” to note the statue of Justice facing inward (away from the city), symbolizing elitism and exclusion.

The piece criticizes greased palms, offshore accounts, and the failure of leaders to use ill-gotten gains for national recovery, praising figures like Veronica Guerin for exposing such issues. It calls for upholding the separation of powers, questions leaks by Justice Minister Michael McDowell to the media, and warns against eroding democratic principles like free speech and the rule of law. References include Montesquieu’s ideas on constitutional government, the Belfast Agreement, Shannon Airport’s role in renditions, and concerns about a potential “police state.” Clarke urges Taoiseach Bertie Ahern to maintain integrity amid corruption purges, while touching on Garda issues, mental health in custody, and restorative justice. The article ends with a quotation from Pierre-Joseph Proudhon on the subjection of humanity to governance and a nod to historical Irish figures like DeValera.The comments, spanning 2007 to 2010, expand and update the discussion:

• A 2007 comment reiterates the Scales of Justice symbolism, critiques the ongoing Mahon Tribunal (investigating planning corruption, including Ahern’s finances), and warns of economic threats akin to the 1980s, amid the Celtic Tiger boom’s peak.
• A 2008 comment laments the Mahon Tribunal’s escalating costs (over €350 million) and duration (nearly 10 years), questioning Ahern’s legal defenses and the stability of Irish democracy.
• A 2009 comment celebrates a court ruling protecting journalist Suzanne Breen from compelled disclosure of sources (related to Real IRA claims), as a win for press freedom.
• Another 2009 comment notes a landmark ruling by Mrs. Justice Laffoy deeming imprisonment for debt unconstitutional, leading to releases.
• A 2010 comment calls for transparency, critiques delays in tribunal outcomes (e.g., Mahon), and suggests adapting the Criminal Assets Bureau (CAB) model to prosecute corporate abuses, reflecting on the global financial deregulation’s impact on Ireland.

Overall, the piece and its thread form a grassroots critique of systemic corruption, judicial inefficiencies, and power imbalances, rooted in independent media activism.

Appraisal in the Context of 2025

Looking back from 2025, this 2005 citizen journalism post and its comment chain feel like a prescient time capsule from the tail end of Ireland’s Celtic Tiger era—a period of illusory prosperity built on property bubbles, lax regulation, and cronyism that would spectacularly unravel in the 2008 global financial crisis. The citizen journalism site, as an open-publishing platform for radical and citizen journalism, was a vital counter-narrative space in the pre-social media dominance days, amplifying voices marginalized by mainstream outlets. This article exemplifies that ethos: raw, passionate, and unpolished, blending historical symbolism (Dublin Castle’s Justice statue as a metaphor for elite insularity) with sharp commentary on corruption scandals that dominated Irish headlines. It’s a snapshot of public frustration with tribunals like Mahon and Moriarty, which were seen as endless money pits yielding little accountability—echoing broader global disillusionment with slow justice systems in the face of white-collar crime.

In retrospect, the piece’s warnings were spot-on about economic fragility. Written just before the 2007-2008 property crash, it anticipates the “crisis of the 1980s” redux that hit Ireland harder than most, leading to the EU-IMF bailout in 2010, bank nationalizations, and austerity measures that exacerbated inequality. The Mahon Tribunal, a central villain here for its delays and costs (ballooning to over €300 million by its 2012 conclusion), ultimately found that Bertie Ahern had received unexplained payments but stopped short of proving direct corruption in planning decisions—vindicating Clarke’s skepticism about “justice delayed is justice denied.”

Ahern resigned in 2008 amid the scrutiny, but no criminal charges followed, highlighting the tribunals’ limitations: they exposed rot but rarely led to prosecutions, fueling cynicism about the system’s ability to hold the powerful accountable. By 2025, with Ireland’s economy recovered through tech booms (e.g., multinationals in Dublin’s Silicon Docks) and post-Brexit EU positioning, these scandals feel like ancient history, yet their legacy lingers in stricter anti-corruption laws, like the 2018 Criminal Justice (Corruption Offences) Act, and ongoing CAB seizures of illicit assets.

The article’s emphasis on separation of powers and media leaks resonates eerily with later events. McDowell’s 2005 actions (leaking Garda files) foreshadowed debates over whistleblower protections and data privacy, amplified by the 2013 Snowden revelations and Ireland’s role in EU data flows.

Clarke’s nod to Shannon renditions and neutrality critiques proved prophetic: by the 2010s, Ireland faced international scrutiny for U.S. military stopovers, culminating in 2020s parliamentary pushes for stricter oversight amid global conflicts like Ukraine.

Mental health in custody, Garda reforms (post-McBrearty scandals), and restorative justice—flagged here—evolved significantly: the 2015 Garda Inspectorate reforms addressed custody deaths, while community-based justice programs expanded, influenced by Northern Ireland’s models post-Belfast Agreement.

From a 2025 lens, the optimism about tribunals yielding billions in recovered funds (e.g., via CAB) was partially realized—CAB has seized over €100 million in assets since the 1990s—but systemic issues persist. The 2009-2010 comments on press freedom (Breen case) and debt imprisonment bans were indeed landmarks: the Breen ruling strengthened journalistic protections, influencing GDPR-era source anonymity, while Laffoy’s decision aligned with broader debtor rights reforms amid the recession.

However, the piece’s radical edge—invoking fascism benchmarks and Proudhon’s anarchism—feels dated in a more digitized activism landscape, where platforms like Twitter (now X) and TikTok have democratized discourse but also fragmented it with misinformation.

Critically, the article’s strengths lie in its ethical fervor and call for equilibrium in justice, but it suffers from stream-of-consciousness style, unsubstantiated claims (e.g., Ahern’s alleged intervention in Corrib protests), and a somewhat conspiratorial tone that might alienate readers today. In 2025, with AI-driven transparency tools, blockchain for public records, and post-pandemic social equity focuses (e.g., Ireland’s universal basic income pilots), it serves as a reminder of progress: corruption perceptions have improved (Ireland ranks higher on Transparency International indices than in 2005), but inequality gaps—widened by housing crises—echo Clarke’s underclass concerns. Ultimately, this piece of citizen journalism artifact underscores how citizen journalism planted seeds for accountability, even if the “purge” Clarke demanded remains incomplete in an era of ongoing inquiries into everything from banking to housing. It’s a valuable historical critique, urging us not to forget the human cost of unchecked power.

Quick Answer

Frederick Forsyth wrote about a train journey with Judge Michael Comyn. Can you locate this?

Thought for 1m 2s

The reference you’re looking for is a short story titled “Sharp Practice” by Frederick Forsyth, published as part of his 1982 collection No Comebacks.

The story is set in Ireland in the late 1930s and follows Judge Michael Comyn during a train journey from Dublin to Tralee, where he becomes involved in a game of poker with two strangers (a small man and a red-faced priest) that leads to an unexpected twist involving sharp card-playing tactics and a courtroom revelation the next day.

The full collection is widely available in print, ebook, and audiobook formats.

2 web pages

Can you give a synopsis of the story

Thought for 38s

“Sharp Practice” is a short story by Frederick Forsyth, originally published in his 1982 collection No Comebacks. Set in Ireland during the late 1930s, it follows Judge Michael Comyn on a train journey from Dublin to Tralee. In his compartment, he encounters a small, unassuming man named O’Connor and a jovial, red-faced priest. To pass the time on the long ride, the group engages in a seemingly innocent game of poker, which starts without stakes but gradually escalates to include monetary bets.

The priest, who professes little knowledge of the game and appears hesitant at first, ends up winning hand after hand, primarily at the judge’s expense. By the journey’s end, Comyn writes a check to cover his losses to the priest.

The following day, in the Tralee courtroom where Comyn is presiding, O’Connor appears as the defendant in a case brought by a horse dealer named Keane, who accuses him of cheating at cards during a similar poker game on a previous train ride. Through cross-examination, it’s established that O’Connor neither initiated the game nor was the primary winner—details that mirror Comyn’s own experience but lead to O’Connor’s acquittal due to lack of direct evidence against him.

Outside the court, as Comyn and Keane discuss the case, they spot O’Connor and the priest together in a car, waving mockingly as they drive off. This revelation exposes the duo as professional card sharps who have orchestrated the scam, leaving the judge to grapple with his own unwitting role in the scheme.

1 web page

Quick Answer

GZERO World with Ian Bremmer

The world is on fire and the UN is running out of money

The world is in crisis—and as the United Nations turns 80, it is running out of time and money to respond. Secretary-General António Guterres joins the show.