AT THE United Nations in New York today, Trócaire director Justin
Kilcullen will leave the international stage. In a few weeks he will
retire after 20 years leading and 30 years working for Trócaire.
Kilcullen’s last act is to ask, what next? Having equal rights, enjoying
those rights regardless of gender, ethnicity or income and being able
to hold governments to account, are Trócaire’s research findings on the
significant concerns of people in developing countries. These are not
issues addressed, however, in the current UN millennium development
goals.
Goals of course are selective. Several of the vaunted millennium goals
will not be delivered on target, or even soon. Reading the 2013 report
of the UN, it is also fair to say that, in some respects, much has been
done. About 700m fewer people lived in conditions of extreme poverty in
2010 than in 1990. Over the last 21 years, more than 2.1bn people gained
access to improved drinking water sources. Remarkable gains have been
made in the fight against malaria and tuberculosis. Between 2000 and
2010, an estimated 1.1m deaths from malaria were averted.
Regrettably the target of universal access to HIV anti-retroviral
therapy for all who need it by 2010 was missed. It remains reachable by
2015 if current trends continue. If hope remains of providing HIV
treatment for all who need it, the goal of providing a primary school
education for every child is stalling badly. It is now certainly
unattainable by 2015. So too are targets on improved sanitation. Many of
these missed goals are being missed by the same communities in the same
countries.
There has been a lot of talk here about our own broken institutions. The
promised democratic revolution never happened. But everything is
relative. If we have clearly not found a political means to fix our
broken politics, we do not lack ways of articulating that. We enjoy a
constitutional and legal framework that, warts and all consistently,
vindicates many more of our people that it lets down. Gender equality
remains to be fully substantiated in our society but, thanks to
campaigning women and men, enormous progress has been made in a single
generation.
Trócaire is at the UN today because that body is holding a ‘special
event’ convened by Ireland and South Africa to discuss what should
replace its anti-poverty Millennium Development Goals after 2015.
Tánaiste Eamon Gilmore and Development minister Joe Costello are
scheduled to be there. It is an example of Ireland leading on an agenda
where, if we have conspicuous unfulfilled financial promises, we have
at least in part given consistent leadership for decades.
Last Saturday I attended the funeral in Co Meath of the mother, whom I
had not met, of a friend and former colleague. That lady was clearly the
much loved and deeply mourned mother and grandmother of an extended
family. She had, with her husband who predeceased her, spent some years
in Kenya decades ago. Her attitude of respect towards the native Kenyan
community, we were told by the priest who knew her well, was not
universal among white expatriates then. In troubled times, her respect
was repaid by her Kenyan neighbours. Unlike others, her home was
unharmed.
The slaughter in Nairobi on the day of her funeral and its bloody end
brings her values of respect to mind. Something else from her funeral
stayed in my mind too. The gospel was the account of the two disciples
on the road to Emmaus after the resurrection of Jesus. They walked and
talked with Him about the terrible event of the crucifixion in Jerusalem
“but they were kept from recognising him”. Destination reached, they
invited the stranger who had walked on the road with them into the inn
to share their meal. Only then in the breaking of the bread were “their
eyes were opened and they recognised him”.
The true miracle of this story, the subject of great works of art, the
priest told us is perhaps misunderstood. The miracle was not the
recognition by the disciples of Him at the breaking of the bread, it was
their invitation of a stranger to share their meal. It is in the
stranger that you meet your maker and see the face of your God.
It is less emphasised now, less obvious perhaps, and in any event we are
less comfortable with the fact, that much of our charitable
infrastructure was motivated by religious principles and led mainly by
religious institutions. Trócaire is a foundation of the Irish Catholic
bishops. That church has, of course, been shown to have fallen
catastrophically short of the principles it was founded on. Its ultimate
crisis is not that it let us down; it is that it almost perfectly
mirrored us.
Platooned by the daughters and sons not of Roman legions but of Irish
farmers it took on the class prejudices of the status hungry, middling
sort of people who populated it.
Their status anxiety and insecurity after a devastating famine and only
recently acquired property, mired with morality in ways that were
vicious towards the different. Wholesale incarceration of the indigent
and the illegitimate perfectly served our societies insecurity.
BUT that is all out there now, or at least the all of it that doesn’t
implicate us. And Trócaire is lovely. It is great to be helping those
poor people — thankfully so far away. But the different are still with
us and so are our prejudices. Ireland is now a multiracial society, full
of people who are fully Irish but apparently different. Different in
appearance, in skin colour and in ethnicity, they too often befall the
fate of strangers and are scorned.
Last Sunday, the day of the All-Ireland final, a prominent and respected
GAA player was abused on Twitter with the taunt “Back to Asia with you,
you don’t belong here”. The cowardly author of that abuse then closed
the account and electronically ran away. Social media is a great
outpouring of ourselves; a sewage system for the unspeakable.
From the horrors these last days in Nairobi, to the world in congress at
the United Nations today, there is a common theme of responsibility
towards the stranger. There may be great issues at stake of race,
religion, and poverty on Twitter, in Nairobi and in every Irish
community, but ultimately there are countless actions of hospitality and
of hate that make this either a more equal or a more appalling world.
By design or default we can all make a contribution for good or evil. To
the legion of Ireland’s foreign aid workers and Justin Kilcullen is
just one, I say thank you.