In the crazy world that exists after Shattergate and Minggate, we are in danger of losing something very precious. You can take away the house, the job, the fancy cars, our dignity, but please don't take away the one thing we Irish love in great big shovels full — our discretion. What would life be like if we all had to live by the rules? If we had to pay the exact penalty for every misdemeanour we do, if we had to do things exactly as they should be done. If that was to happen, we’d turn into Germans aware that anything we do wrong would be punished exactly as the rule says it should. Or we’d spend our lives making sure others did things the way they should. A regimental regime like that would not be Ireland.
All our lives we’ve been benefiting from the bit of discretion — When the Christian Brother was lashing me with a leather belt nailed to a tabletennis bat handle for nicking muggles out of an orchard, he always stopped three or four short of the twenty lashes he meant to give me, saying, “now, off with ya and don't let me catch ya at that again.” You'd be so grateful for the bit of discretion, you'd almost thank him.
Right from the moment in that great Irish play when the guard caught the courting couple in the car and the young man let down the steam-covered window to say “we're only neckin', guard,” the guard's reply of 'put your neck back in your trousers and off home with ya,” was one of the great literary references we have to garda discretion in this country.
Discretion is what gets us up out of the bed in the morning, eager to face the day, hoping to benefit from or to dole out some discretion before we hit the scratcher again.
Sure what fun is it being a guard if you can't have a bit of discretion. Sure, you can't do those threatening looks, the slow walk around the car, the thoughtful stare at the wheels of your car while wondering how much you paid for it. Sure all of that will be gone if Shattergate and Minggate results in the bit of discretion being taken from us. What guard worth his salt will ever offer a bit of discretion again if he thinks that someday he'll be quoted in the Dail by someone for whom he was only doing a favour.
Even if we head to the confessional box, mumble the embarrassingly ‘long time since my previous confession’ line. Slur out the few sins we have and recite at speed the Act of Contrition, the days of the priests saying “aren’t you the auld divil now for doing that and everyone thinking you're a grand lad, but off with ya.” No, after Shattergate and Minggate, there's always the chance that the Pope will someday look back at the records and ask Father X if he let me off with a warning and not damn my already damned soul with even hotter flames in the depths of hell.
How ironic it is that it is the lack of discretion by Ming and Shatter that could end the proud history of discretion that has been the backbone of the State. Now, off with ya, and don’t let me catch you reading this column again, ya hear.
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