Not content with taking our land and our women for 800 years, the Brits are now trying to claim our dead humourists. Last month, the British media heralded the publication of a poll listing the UK’s greatest wit of all time. According to "3,000 comedy fans", the wittiest Brit ever is... Oscar Wilde. Second on the list was Spike Milligan – also Irish. Third was Stephen Fry, who is admittedly English, but whose primary contribution to humour was cited as a remark he allegedly made to airport Customs officials: "I have nothing to declare but my genius". So the Brits are stealing our bon mots as well.

The British claiming Oscar Wilde is as absurd as the Soviets claiming Vaclav Havel. Wilde was one of our greatest nationalist heroes. Unfortunately, as Declan Kiberd has noted, many people – on both islands – regard Wilde as "an Irishman who turned himself into an Englishman as fast as he could". This is a complete travesty. 

First, the facts: Wilde only ever referred to himself as Irish or Celtic. At Oxford, he made a point of taking up several lines in the student register by signing his name "Oscar William Wills O'Flaherty Wilde”. In London, he swapped first editions of his plays with fellow Irish wit George Bernard Shaw (long before the latter was successful) inscribing them as works in the ‘Hiberno-London’ school. Wilde was a strong supporter of Charles Stewart Parnell, whose tragic downfall prefigured his own. On his death-bed in 1900, in addition to complaining about “dying beyond my means” and insisting "either that wallpaper goes or I do", Wilde observed “if I were to outlive the century, it would be more than the English could stand."

 

 

This was no empty one-liner. Wilde’s dramas, most notably The Importance of Being Ernest, ridiculed everything which Victorian England held dear: marriage, masculinity, polite society, baptism… even cucumber sandwiches. The bitterness which Wilde’s work provoked in British audiences was recorded by Shaw: "They laugh angrily at his epigrams, like a child who is coaxed into being amused in the very act of setting up a yell of rage and agony. They protest that the trick is obvious, and that such epigrams can be turned out by the score by anyone light-minded enough to condescend to such frivolity. As far as I can ascertain, I am the only person in London who cannot sit down and write an Oscar Wilde play at will.”

To a modern audience, Wilde’s plays may seem like slight comedies-of-manners punctuated by quaint, over-quoted, quips. Their full subversive impact can only be understood in the context of the time.

In the late 19th century, the Irish were routinely portrayed in the British popular press as a simian-like race of alcoholic brutes, incapable of polysyllabic conversation, let alone self-government. Overtly racist language and imagery were used to deny Home Rule and justify the continued British subjugation of Ireland.

Into this charged environment entered Oscar Wilde – a precocious Irishman who was indisputably the cleverest, most sophisticated and most fashionable man in Britain. What more eloquent and civilised refutation could there be to the litany of ridiculous prejudices about the Irish? Imagine for a moment if the most successful, stylish and sarcastic comedian in the world today were a Muslim, performing material about the absurdity of Western values. Think of the ructions such an individual would cause (to say nothing of the shockwave that would hit if he turned out to be gay).

Spike Milligan has no such claims to nationalist trailblazing. In fact, compared to Wilde, he might seem like someone whom the Brits can legitimately call their own. Spike’s father served with the British Army in Southeast Asia. Spike was born to an English mother, and grew up, under the British Raj (in what is now India and Burma). When World War II came along, he followed his father by enlisting in the British Army, an experience he later immortalised in his memoir Adolf Hitler: My Part in His Downfall.

 

Surely all this makes Milligan British? Not according to the British government of the day. In 1960, Former Lance Bombardier Milligan was refused a British passport, because he had been born outside Britain, to an Irish father. Neither his English mother, nor his military service were considered. Refusing to take an oath of allegiance to the British monarchy (he famously referred to Prince Charles as a “grovelling little bastard”) Spike applied for Irish citizenship and retained it all his life.

Oscar Wilde once commented that the only duty we owe to history is to completely rewrite it. I disagree. Recent generations on these islands have finally put aside their long-standing differences. But this new era of co-operation will not be helped by forgetting the past, but rather by remembering just how dysfunctional our relationship used to be. This year marks the 50th anniversary of the Treaty of Rome. In the last half-century, the European Union has been held together through every crises by the memory of just how catastrophic World War II was. It's a model we should learn from.

And if the Brits are really serious about reconciliation for past mistreatment, they could start by adopting Brendan O'Carroll.

Clamp charity muggers

It's impossible to walk around Dublin without being approached by eager young things trying to guilt-trip you into giving worthy organisations all your bank details. These charity muggers – or "chuggers" – are arguably making the world a better place, by press-ganging members of the public into diverting their money away from Brown Thomas and towards good causes. However, as paid professionals, the chuggers take a cut, and their incessant insistence can be extremely tiresome. Favourite chugger haunts include Henry St, The Bank of Ireland on College Green, and junction of Grafton Street and Wicklow Street. As a result, these locales have become virtual no-go areas for the congenitally greedy, or – as they now prefer to be known – "the charitably challenged".

Something must be done. True to their "radical or redundant" philosophy, the PDs are the only party to have addressed the problem directly, although some have criticised their proposal of death by lethal injection as overly Draconian. I believe that a more humane solution would be to clamp chuggers who refuse to move from a particular area. An aggressive clamping policy would discourage most of them from staying in one place, and it would make those who do considerably easier to circumnavigate. As an added bonus, all clamping fines would be paid directly to Oxfam.

 

Introduce Japanese-style Love Hotels… with an Irish twist

Why not boost tourism, and improve our birth rate, by borrowing an idea from another proud island nation? The Japanese have made the most of their high house prices, cramped living space and weird, adolescent culture. The country which gave the world sushi, samurais and vending machines which dispense freshly worn schoolgirls’ knickers, has also come up with “Love Hotels” (a.k.a. "sardine tins for shagging").

The idea is simple: a hotel designed specifically to facilitate couples who are stuck for somewhere to have sex. Rooms can be rented by the quarter-hour, and range from the cheap and cheerful to the deluxe and bizarre. Bored lovers can choose from a range of themed costumes and rooms: Stone Age, Renaissance or science fiction.

Here in Dublin, we would of course cater for the English stag and hen market. Preliminary research suggests that over 90% of this demographic will choose rooms based on the themes of either “Firemen and Nurses” or “Cowboys and Sluts”. However the biggest potential growth market is American and European tourists who want to experience the naughty side of Irish culture and history. Curious visitors could book rooms honouring famous Irish couples: Robert Emmet and Sarah Curran (the Failed Rising Suite); Bishop Eamon Casey and Annie Murphy (The Isn't the Hypocrisy Suite); or Charles J. Haughey and Terry Keane (The Sweetie Suite).

To ease the stress of frustrated commuters, the Hotel would be obliged to provide park-and-ride facilities. And in honour of one of our greatest characters and patriots, Dublin's first Love Hotel should be named "The John Charles McQuaid".

 

Promote blue skies thinking on transport.

Work on the Dublin Metro hasn't even begun, and experts predict it will be at least another two years before the project goes vastly over-budget. In the meantime, we need to come up with some radical alternatives to beat the traffic.

• Offer free in-line skates to all commuters and encourage ‘skitching’

‘Skitching’ (presumably a hybrid word combining ‘skating’ and ‘hitching’) involves grabbing on to the back of a moving vehicle while wearing roller-skates. Cynics will point out that, in Dublin, you would be faster skating to work – even with the potholes – than holding on to the back of a car which is stuck in traffic. But skitching offers the best of both worlds. Grab onto cars while they're moving, when they stop in traffic, skate through the jam and then grab onto the next vehicle. Environmentally-friendly and good exercise.

• Attach zip lines to the spire

With the best will in the world, skitching after a hard day's work would be pretty exhausting. A series of high-durability cables should be attached to the Spire and grounded in various Dublin suburbs. Thrill-seeking commuters could then climb to the roof of surrounding buildings and travel home by flying fox (a pulley, with handles and a seat). “Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No. It's Brian from accounts.”

• Unlock the true potential of the canals

Dublin's canals are long-established transport arteries. But in modern times it has been assumed that the high concentration of locks makes them unsuitable for commuter transport. What chronic lack of vision. The key to unlocking the lock problem is to think outside the box.

Instead of opening and closing locks continuously (an admittedly time-consuming process), a series of passenger ferries could run continuously from lock to lock, each on its own stretch of canal. Essentially, the locks would function as stops/stations where passengers could either dismount or continue their journey (on another ferry) on the next section of canal. Integrated ticketing is expected to be phased in no later than 15 years after the service begins.

The truly radical element of this plan is the environmentally friendly way in which the ferries would be fuelled. Traditional wind power would be supplemented by hydroelectric generators attached to the canals’ weirs. On busy weekends, specially trained teams of swans and dolphins would be harnessed to haul locked revellers from lock to lock, rescuing them if necessary.

• Introduce Pedalos on the Liffey

Why has no one thought of this before?

(WARNING: this is an entirely serious article -- if you want jokes, you'll have to come to one of my comedy shows).

Jesus Christ is often associated with a naive brand of pacifism, which apparently "just doesn't work in the real world".

Perhaps in a 'conventional' war -- such as the fight against Hitler -- Christ's teachings are impractical. However, they are ideally suited to undermining terrorism.

Christ's philosophy of "turning the other cheek" is not about being too weak, too spineless or too afraid to fight back. It is about understanding that if you retaliate violently, you will almost definitely cause further suffering and injustice. This will feed directly into a cycle of violence and retribution.

Such cycles of violence are a familiar feature in many terrorist conflicts, perhaps most famously those of Northern Ireland and Israel/Palestine.

The terrorist attacks on 9/11 were completely unjustifiable, and America deserved the sympathy of the world in their aftermath. But the response of the Bush administration, in Afghanistan, Guantanamo and Iraq, has done nothing to help the victims of 9/11, and has instead created even more victims, adding fuel to the fire of international terrorism.

Trying to fight terrorism with a war is idiotic. If there's one thing terrorists thrive on, it's violent conflict.

The first step towards defeating terrorism is understanding what causes it, how it works and what will best undermine it. To borrow a line from Chinese philosophy: "know thy enemy, and know thyself, and a thousand victories shall be yours."

Most terrorists would like to be popular revolutionaries. But they have a problem: they are chronically unpopular. Blowing up innocent civilians doesn't typically win over public opinion.

In fact, the only circumstance in which ordinary people will support extreme violence is when they believe that it is undermining an even greater evil. Hence, for example, the widespread American support for bombing Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The American public in 1945 were not callous and bloodthirsty. They supported dropping the atom bombs only because it was the quickest way to end a terrible war.

So terrorists only hope of popularity is to portray themselves as opponents of an even greater evil, and to attach themselves to legitimate causes. The IRA claimed to be bombing for Catholic civil rights. The London suicide-bombers expressed anger at the suffering of ordinary Palestinians and Iraqis. In themselves, these are perfectly just grievances. But it takes a particularly demented brand of lunatic to conclude that the best way to alleviate suffering in Belfast or Gaza is to bomb a commuter train in London. That's on a par with finding ants in your kitchen, and trying to get rid of them by flying to Botswana and shooting a giraffe.

What cause did the 9/11 hijackers claim as justification? Primarily, it was the on-going American support for the corrupt Saudi Royal Family. Fifteen of the nineteen hijackers were Saudi nationals – as is Osama bin Laden.

All of the hijackers died on September the 11th, 2001. But the response of the Bush administration has enabled those nineteen murderers to hijack America's foreign policy ever since. The fresh injustices perpetrated in Afghanistan, Guantánamo and Iraq have inspired a whole new generation of terrorists. And so the cycle continues.

For many years, a similar cycle took place -- admittedly on a much smaller scale -- in Northern Ireland. The peace process there illustrates that when the underlying injustice is addressed fairly, support for violence evaporates. Catholic civil rights and equality have been more or less achieved, peace has been brokered by both sides and there is now no-one who wants to return to violence.

By contrast, Israel has been fighting a "war on terror" for 60 years. At every stage in that conflict, the number of Palestinian dead has been three, four or five times the number of Israeli casualties. Militarily, Israel has divided, outgunned and outmanoeuvered its opponents at almost every step. Yet despite this overwhelming military superiority there is no prospect of peace, because Israel has not addressed the underlying injustice – the suffering of ordinary Palestinians.

Some readers will think that I am advocating conceding to terrorist demands. I am not. That would be dangerous, stupid and immoral. I am arguing that the USA should try to end genuine injustices. I am suggesting that Catholics deserve civil rights, regardless of whether some idiot in a balaclava sets off a bomb in a pub. I am suggesting that the people of Saudi Arabia deserve a democratically elected government which does not squander the country's oil wealth on bribery and corruption.

Fundamentally, I am arguing that if America embraces the best elements of its strong Christian tradition, and it's passion for justice and liberty, it would do a great deal of good in the world, and cripple global terrorism into the bargain. Who's going to support blowing up a government which has just built you a brand new university hospital?

If that sounds naive, take a look at global events since 2001. America has deployed unprecedented military resources in an attempt to destroy terrorism by force. The result? Terrorism is stronger than ever. More Americans have died in Bush's wars than were killed in the twin towers. If anyone is guilty of naivete, it is the architects of George Bush's foreign policy.

Millions of Americans are disillusioned with their own government, angry that they were misled into war, and increasingly afraid that the rest of the world hates them. Those people need to agitate for change.

As for those of us outside America, particularly those -- like myself -- who live in privileged parts of Europe, there are a couple of things we should bear in mind.

There is serious problem of anti-American bigotry in Europe, and elsewhere.

Bigotry is a bit like alcoholism. If you stopped 1,000 people on the street, and asked them whether alcoholism is good or bad, they would all tell you that it's bad. Just as they would tell you that bigotry is bad. But unfortunately, some of them would still be alcoholics. And some would be bigots.

And, like alcoholism, the first step to treating bigotry is admitting that you have a problem.

So here goes.

I used to be an anti-American bigot.

I made the mistake of blaming ordinary American citizens for the misdeeds, stupidity and arrogance of their government. It was lazy and irrational of me.

Many non-Americans, particularly Europeans, enjoy complaining about America. We blame the USA for everything: we complain about its dumbed-down culture of movies and fast food; we complain about its appalling democratic deficit; and its self-interested foreign policy of stockpiling oil and selling arms to dictators. All of which is a fair assessment... of the European Union. We are masters at projecting the things we don't like about ourselves onto America.

In the interests of retaining perspective, let's ask ourselves: do any of us want to live in a world dominated by China? Or Russia? Or Iran?

Personally, I'd like the planet to be run by a coalition of Sweden, Holland and New Zealand -- but I'm not exactly holding my breath.

If America is our preferred dominant world power, then that is all the more reason to criticise it astutely. But the purpose of that criticism should always be to inform and improve, never to make ourselves feel morally superior.

I'd like to conclude where I began, with a brief quote from Jesus. It applies equally to the struggle against terrorism, and the challenges of everyday life:

"Be not afraid".

Abie
Dublin, May 2007

It's weirder than the plot of a Kazakhstani soap opera. Later this month, the Bewleys Comedy Club hosts Australian comedian Steve Hughes, whose one-man show (appropriately entitled The Storm) led to him being labelled as an “anti-Semitic… left-leaning, angry, Australian conspiracy theorist". These accusations seemed all the more credible -- or incredible -- because they did not emanate from a Zionist Rabbi, but from fellow comedian Jamie Glassman, a writer on The Ali G Show, which featured the profoundly anti-Semitic ‘Borat’.

"It was a brutal attack on me really” says Hughes. “He made out that my gig was some kind of Nazi rally." I put it to Hughes that there is no smoke without fire, and he must have said something to annoy Glassman. “I told a joke: as a child, I was encouraged to play cowboys and Indians. Which is essentially a game for children about the joys of genocide. I know Australians can't claim much moral high ground on this one, but we never played ‘Cops and Aboriginals’. And you certainly wouldn't play ‘Nazis and Jews’.”

Writing in The Times, Glassman offered a different version of events, in which Hughes “suggests kids should stop playing Cowboys and Indians and replace it with Nazis and Jews.” Hughes responds, “How can I really believe a thing that he says he heard, if he understood the joke like that?” Glassman also claims that he heard audience members shouting ‘Throw them in the oven’ as they applauded.

Not having been to the same performance as Glassman, it's impossible to definitively confirm or deny his story. However, Glassman's judgement is in question. In the same article, Glassman accused Reginald D. Hunter (an African-American comedian) of anti-Semitism in his show Pride and Prejudice and Niggas. During the show, Hunter declared his desire to defy Austria's law on Holocaust denial. He wanted to fly to Vienna and proclaim "the Holocaust never happened!" Sitting in the audience at Edinburgh, I watched Hunter’s predominantly white, liberal, Guardian-reading audience grow visibly uncomfortable: would they have to take sides in a row between a black guy demanding free speech and the victims of Auschwitz?

Hunter continued: "... and when the judge asks me 'did you say that the Holocaust never happened?' I'll reply: ‘yes, your honour, but I was talking about the Rwandan Holocaust' ... and based on the response of the United Nations, the judge will say 'case dismissed!'." In a heartbeat, Hunter had transformed himself from the bad guy defending Holocaust deniers, into an incisive moral observer, reminding his white, European audience that for all their hand-wringing and vows of "Never Again", their countries didn't lift a finger to stop genocide in Africa. It was an escape worthy of Houdini. Glassman interpreted it as “a crack at the Jews".

In the insane media circus of Edinburgh, what initially looked like a cynical ploy by comedians to grab headlines, started to look more and more like a cynical ploy by headline-writers to frame comedians for the sake of a story. Hughes believes it is no coincidence that the article appeared during Israel's botched invasion of Lebanon: “who owns The Times? Rupert Murdoch. [Glassman and Murdoch] were definitely searching for anything to take the onus off Israel doing anything bad.”

 

 

However, Hughes is prepared to agree with Glassman on one point: “comedians have the job of piercing opinions in society and... breaking taboos”. Glassman went on to say that "they must also contemplate who they're going to offend when they write these jokes” but Hughes dismisses this as “bullshit… It is arrogant to think that you can prejudge what an audience is like. You have no idea." A moment later, he modifies this: "you can get a feeling sometimes. If it's thirty old women over 70, then probably don't start with your nun-fucking material". He relates the story of a ‘mate’ who told a joke about sharks and inadvertently offended several audience members whose friend had recently been eaten by one. You never can tell.

This seems an appropriate point to ask Hughes about his homeland, and why so many of its brightest comedians -- Adam Hills, Tim Minchin, Damian Clark -- have chosen to base themselves on this side of the world. “The British do misery well, so their understanding of comedy is excellent... You can really lay into the English if the punchline kills... They say "all right, that's fair enough. We are a bunch of dickheads”… The Irish and the Scottish are just naturally witty. I always thought to myself ‘if I can make the Irish and the Scottish laugh, then I'll be happy’.”

How does this compare to Australian audiences? “I've never done political comedy in Australia. It could almost become illegal down there. It's so right wing, so American. My mate rang me up the other day from Queensland and he said, "this is not the country we grew up in, mate." If a bomb goes off in a place like Australia, forget it: the place will just turn into a police state overnight."

I ask Hughes if he would like to conclude with the traditional gratuitous, patronising comment about how much he's looking forward to playing in Dublin? "I don't even have to make a dubious comment about coming to Dublin, because I fucking love it... I used to live in Ballinasloe."

And as for the charges of anti-Semitism, Hughes has made refuting them part of his routine: “I'm Australian. Australians love the Israelis – we both live on land we stole from other people. In fact, I'm an outspoken advocate of Jewish immigration. I'd like to see the entire Israeli state airlifted to the Western coast of Australia. We could call it 'Israelia'. Climate’s the same. Coastline's the same. Nobody lives there – we killed them all. We could put ads on Israeli television inviting them over. "Come to Israelia". And in the background we'd play the theme song from "Neighbours". Because as any Israeli will tell you: "everybody needs good neighbours."

Steve Hughes plays at the Bewleys Comedy Club, upstairs in Bewleys on Grafton St, on March 27th at 9pm. His latest CD Heavy Metal Comedy is available via www.MySpace.com/SteveHughesComedy

If the first few months are anything to go by, 2006 will be a riotous year: we’ve already seen race riots in impoverished, immigrant banlieues throughout France; global riots about cartoons of the Prophet Mohammed; and even in Dublin, a riot to stop a handful of Ulster Prods walking past the GPO. And we haven’t even celebrated May Day. After each of these disorders, there has been a tangible sense of frustration with the rioters: whether experienced by moderate Muslims or moderate Dubliners, the feeling was the same – why is this violent minority perpetuating a negative, misguided stereotype of us? It seems like an appropriate time to look again at the art of non-violent protest, and to examine the techniques of their most effective practitioner, Mahatma Gandhi.

Before talking about Gandhi, it’s worth stating the obvious. He is a complex, controversial figure, whose name is frequently trotted out by left-wingers who are eager to secure the moral high-ground, but have run out of quotes from Nelson Mandela. The real Gandhi espoused a philosophy that went far beyond the political realm, touching on every aspect of life. While extremely admirable, it was never likely to be embraced, or even understood, by the masses. Gandhi’s views are almost totally incompatible with modern attitudes to technology, medicine and sex.

However, Gandhi’s approach to protest – while best understood in the context of his overall philosophy – contains several elements which can be emulated without resorting to celibate vegetarianism. The crux of Gandhi’s outlook was that he had no enemies, simply misguided friends. He did not undertake civil disobedience to inflict defeat or destruction on anyone. He merely wanted his political opponents to re-consider their position and actions. Instead of forcing people to surrender, he encouraged them to reform.

Gandhi always treated his political opponents with the utmost courtesy, informing them of campaigns in advance, refusing to take unfair advantage of their personal vulnerabilities and always looking out for an honourable compromise. Such impeccably moral behaviour impressed many who disagreed with him. The beauty of Gandhi’s method was that it won admiration across the political spectrum, but it also allowed those who fervently disagreed with him to express their feelings openly. He often encouraged close supporters to abandon his methods if they did not truly believe in his vision.

Another vital element of Gandhi’s approach to protest was his genius for symbolism. In 1930 he led a month-long march to the seashore to make salt, in defiance of British salt tax. It sounds utterly Quixotic. But in fact, it was a stroke of brilliance. Every human being, regardless of wealth, religion, geography, language, gender or caste needs salt to survive. As such it was an issue on which all Indians could unite. This imperial tax on a necessity of life was also a potent symbol of India’s servitude. Coinciding, as it did, with the early days of newsreel, images of the salt march were shown thousands of miles away – especially in Britain and the USA. The image of a frail old man, surrounded by peaceful followers, walking to the sea to make salt in defiance of the mighty British Empire had an enormous global impact.

So how does any of this apply to modern protest movements?

A few years ago, I met an English guy in a pub who swore to me that he had just witnessed Gardai brutally attacking civilians in the centre of Dublin. I didn’t believe him. Until I saw the evening news. In the days that followed, the fracas – during which a handful of police removed their identifying insignia, before unleashing their truncheons on unarmed May Day protestors – became known as the ‘Battle of Dame Street’. Admittedly this was a slightly grandiose title – especially from a nation which dismissed the Second World War as ‘the Emergency’ and thirty years of sectarian terrorism as ‘the Troubles’. Perhaps it was meant to be reminiscent of the ‘Battle in Seattle’ where the U.S. police used shocking violence against people trying to peacefully protest at a meeting of the WTO.

The lesson for police and protestors is the same: it only takes a small, violent element from within their own ranks to discredit the entire collective. As a result of the above incidents, many protestors now set out on marches believing that the only thing preventing the cops from going hog-wild is the presence of the media. In the majority of protests the reality is the reverse. Most police officers want to have a quiet life, prevent any damage to people or property, and pick up their overtime cheques at the end of the day. The media, by contrast, are desperate for things to get ugly. Nothing sells papers like blood. If 10,000 people march peacefully, and one idiot burns out a car, the six o’clock news will lead with pictures of the flaming vehicle.

This nasty reality has led some protestors to conclude that the only way to ensure media coverage is to become violent. There may be some truth to this, but it is deeply simplistic. Media coverage is not an end in itself. The advertising maxim that ‘there’s no such thing as bad publicity’ doesn’t apply to politics. If there’s violence at a protest, the only message that will filter through to most people is that the protestors are dangerous thugs.

Only by following completely non-violent methods, communicating with police, expressing the shared desire for a peaceful outcome, will protestors force a reluctant media to actually report their message. If anything, protestors should target the media, not the police, providing photographers with striking, metaphorical spectacles.

Of course the dollar-a-day question is: what’s the modern equivalent of the salt march? What issue, or individual, could unite the vastly diverse groups that make up the so called ‘anti-globalisation movement’? Only time will tell. Let’s just hope it doesn’t involve giving up meat or sex.

Several times a day, you and I see two symbols that are supposed to represent our political and cultural destiny. The first is a window which is impossible to see through. The second is a bridge that goes from nowhere to nowhere. In a fit of monumental oversight these images were chosen by the European Union to adorn its most tangible icon: the Euro banknote. It gets worse. The bridges and windows are not only embarrassingly potent metaphors – they're hypothetical. We're not looking at windows which adorn the Sacre Coeur or St Peter's Basilica. We're not admiring bridges which span the Rhine or the Danube. That would have been too controversial, apparently. Five-hundred years after the Renaissance, the boldest emblem Europe can produce is generic, fictional architecture. And politicians wonder why we find Europe uninspiring.

Imagine the six original members of the EU project as a European version of the Simpsons. France is the neurotic, highly-strung, controlling mother who wears the trousers, tells everyone what to do and drinks too much wine. She believes she's still young and irresistible, but in fact she's rather old and quite unattractive. Germany is the serious, hard-working, emotionally-absent father figure: reasonable, but prone to bouts of extreme violence. Then we have the three kids. Holland is the rebellious, bisexual, dope-smoking teenager. Belgium is the middle child: internally divided, outwardly dull, constantly trying to bring everyone together. Luxembourg is still too small for anyone to take much notice of. This leaves Italy as the swarthy, cool, irresponsible uncle who still rides a motorbike, smokes too much and has some pretty dodgy connections

In the bad old days, Mummy and Daddy used to fight all the time. Uncle would invariably take Daddy's side, but then switch allegiance when it became clear that Mummy was winning. As always happens, it was the kids who got caught in the middle. Eventually the family agreed to stop fighting and share more. This worked so well that they decided to invite other relatives into this arrangement. Now the whole thing's a bit crowded and nobody's sure who is in charge anymore. In all the confusion, we, the people of Europe have lost sight of the EU's most incredible achievement – and I'm not talking about Franco-German peace. As EU citizens, it is our BIRTHRIGHT to live and work in Tuscany, Paris, Sweden, Catalonia, Vienna, Crete, Milan, Provence, Athens, Scotland, Amsterdam, Cyprus, Rome, Barcelona, the Pyrenees or Prague. Remember that next time you're paying five euro to sip coffee in the rain, while listening to Liveline.

Which brings us back to the banknotes. As our glorious leader might ask: what or who should de notes denote? Most citizens complain that the EU is too caught up in ideology, bureaucracy and identity crises to address the needs of real people. I say we get back to real people. Surely in our long, rich history there are certain individuals who command universal admiration. Who could object to a Euro banknote featuring Socrates, da Vinci, or Mozart.

Of course there are many candidates who would be more divisive. It could be argued that Winston Churchill did more for modern Europe than anyone else in our history. But he would be a very problematic choice – both for his politics, and his many controversial military decisions. The trouble with politicians, sportsmen and military heroes is that they are invariably associated both with those whom they championed, and those they defeated. For all their talent, I doubt we'll ever see Euro notes featuring Otto von Bismarck, Eric Cantona or Julius Caesar.

Instead, we should look to fields where human endeavour is of universal benefit: the arts, the sciences, technology and medicine. If choosing seven individuals proves too contentious, each note could instead feature several people from a chosen field. Thus we could have a composers' note, an inventors' note and a scientists' note. Ideally, prospective candidates should have connections with various parts of Europe. James Joyce – who travelled widely, incorporated many European languages in his works, and lived for a time in Dublin, Vienna, Trieste and Paris – would be perfect in this respect.

But whether we favour individuals or groups, the biggest problem would be striking a balance. There are seven banknotes to serve twelve Eurozone countries – with the possibility of more nations joining in the coming years. If the notes featured more Italians than Germans, there would be great resentment. Then there's the question of religion – how would the tally of Catholics and Protestants add up? Would Jews or atheists get a look in? Arguably the most contentious question would be how many women should be featured.

To date the EU has tried to avoid controversy and unpopularity by skirting these questions – plumping instead for generic architecture. That cowardice is a big part of the EU's problem. The European tradition – from Socrates to the Enlightenment to modern democracy – is founded on debate, discussion and dissent. The very act of arguing about which individuals best represent the European ideal would engage citizens across the Union in a common conversation. Not everyone will agree on the result. Plus ca change. But at the very least we will have exchanged ideas about our past culture, present identity and future aspirations.

We could even go one further, and delve into the cesspit of popular culture. The BBC ran a series recently called 'Great Britons', in which ten historians/celebrities were selected as advocates for ten of British history's most influential figures. After they had all put their case, there was a public vote to select the Greatest Brit. Why not run a similar series across the Eurozone, concluding with a Eurovision style final in which the top twenty candidates are given a four-minute summary, followed by a public vote?

It would be tacky. It would be vulgar. It would be democratically imperfect. But such an initiative would reach places that EU summits never reach, engaging Europeans from all walks of life in the political decision-making process. What is the EU afraid of? From an economic perspective, it doesn't matter who is on the Euro banknote. But at a cultural level, for the citizens of Europe to feel ownership of the selection process, and identification with the people featured, is more important than the result.

If all this proves too much for Brussels, I say we force their hand. Using existing EU grants, we should build bridges and windows throughout the country, to the exact specifications of those featured in the current banknotes. Then we should start flogging coach trips to American and Japanese tourists, showing them 'the distinguished Irish architecture which inspired the Euro banknotes'. Let's see how Mummy and Daddy like that.

What’s the first thing you think of, when you hear the word ‘Islam’? Suicide bombers? Veiled women? For most of us, the only time we encounter the terms ‘Islamic’ or ‘Muslim’ is on the evening news, followed by the words ‘terrorism’ or ‘fanatic’. In many people’s minds, Islam has become inextricably linked with violent extremism. We should remember that when people from Peru, Portugal and Pakistan are asked what they most associate with ‘Ireland’ many of them name the IRA.

I have to confess that I’m conflicted about Islam. On the one hand, the smug, self-righteous atheist-feminist in me wants to tear strips off it. And yet, at the same time, my whiny, liberal, politically-correct side can’t abide me kicking the underdog when he’s down. It’s not easy being a white, middle-class journalist – as Kevin Myers will tell you.

Last month, I learned more about the daily realities of British Muslim life, in one hour, than I have watching years of news reports on the subject. I was watching Shazia Mirza’s magnificent stand-up show at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Her routine focussed on the cultural and religious tensions of being a British Muslim woman in the present climate.

She talked about Muslim-swims: all female affairs where participants cover themselves from head-to-toe in special swimsuits, jump in simultaneously, and swim toward Mecca. She also revealed that Pakistani fathers, of a certain age, think Cilla Black is Allah’s gift to men. Apparently – despite never having had a boyfriend – Shazia is regarded as suspicious by potential Muslim suitors. They are scandalised that white men pay to see her perform (comedy) in clubs. Personally, I suspect these guys may just be intimidated by a woman who is sharper and cleverer than they are – a fate that bright women the world over can relate to.

 

By the end of the gig, I was slightly in love with Shazia. I have a weakness for beautiful, witty, articulate women. Fortunately for her, I’m already going out with one. I can’t imagine that Mr. and Mrs. Mirza would be terribly impressed if their daughter brought home a pale, Irish atheist called Abraham. But I had to talk to her, if only to plead with her to bring her show to Dublin. As it turned out there was another journalist in the queue – thankfully a much older, and far less attractive, man – from Le Monde. He’d completely missed the point of her show, and repeatedly asked about the suicide bombings in London. Eventually Shazia barked, “What I am saying is far more interesting and important than what the suicide bombers are saying.” For a fleeting moment, I considered proposing.

For Mirza to stand up and do stand-up, as a Muslim woman, takes wits, insight and considerable bravery. Detonating a bomb on a tube train – or a Luas – requires none of these qualities. Any idiot can do it. In fact, if we’re ever going to undermine terrorism, we need to stop treating suicide bombers as if they’re important. The London bombings in July were allowed to eclipse the Make Poverty History campaign and the G8 summit. Millions of people peacefully lobbying against their own short-term interests is far more news-worthy than a few extremists blowing themselves up. Of course the attacks were a tragedy for the 62 people killed. But extreme poverty is a tragedy for the 30,000 children it kills every day.

There will always be fanatics willing to die for their cause. We will never be safe from the threat of terrorism. But nor will we ever be safe from the considerably larger threats of cancer, pollution or bad driving. If Osama Bin Laden’s primary aim was to kill Westerners, he would invest all his money in the tobacco industry. Terrorists can carry out brutal, shocking attacks but the chances of being hurt in one are still tiny. If, as a society, we recognise how small this threat really is, we will deprive the terrorists of their most powerful weapon.

If we wish to go further, and ‘drain the swamp’ of possible recruits, we need to reach out to Muslim communities. What made Mirza’s show so powerful was her willingness to expose, and criticise, the aspects of her religion and culture which she finds distasteful. The same approach has been adopted with great effect by Irshad Manji, whose manifesto The Trouble with Islam Today provides powerful and challenging reading. As practicing Muslims, these women are in a far stronger and more credible position to criticise Islam than any outsider.

If we in the secular world are serious about engaging with mainstream Islam, then we need to follow the example of Mirza and Manji, by openly criticising the aspects of our culture that need reform. Westerners often claim that their democracy and human rights agenda is ‘objectively better’ than the political systems in Arab countries. Maybe so. But we don’t find it so easy when Muslims produce medical evidence showing that their approach to alcohol is ‘objectively better’ than ours.

On my last evening in Edinburgh, I visited a Mosque, and got talking to some thoughtful and incisive British Muslims. I had no choice but to agree with them, that Western popular culture promotes sex as a commodity, instant gratification as a philosophy, and over-consumption as a lifestyle.

One young woman challenged my assertion that all major religions oppress women. I suggested that – while her understanding of Islam might be egalitarian – in practice, all religions are socially conservative and patriarchal. By blocking women’s access to positions of religious authority, and failing to take account of advances like contraception, religions tend to re-enforce many barriers to women’s progress.

But I freely conceded that our secular, commercial culture bombards women with propaganda about how they should look, setting an impossible standard. It then pressurises women to pour time and money into achieving a thoroughly artificial and arbitrary notion of beauty.

We in Ireland have a unique opportunity. As a nation we understand how it feels to be tarred with the brush of terrorism. We have experienced conservative, doctrinaire religion. Unlike other Western nations, almost all of our Muslim community are recent arrivals. We have a unique chance to engage with, integrate and learn from our Muslim community. If we squander it, we’re damn fools.

 

Hollywood has spoken. The Jews killed Jesus. And there’s been holy war ever since. God knows why – the guy was only dead for forty eight hours. After two days in a cave he was back walking the streets of Galilee. We’ve had two thousand years of anti-Semitism, because of a punishment that most people would consider lenient for shoplifting. But the question Christians have really been overlooking is: where the hell would Christianity be, if Jesus hadn’t been crucified?

Christian faith is founded on the belief that Christ died for the sins of mankind. Let’s accept, for a moment, that to nail oneself to a cross would be an act of gross stupidity unlikely to attract many followers (to say nothing of the comparative difficulty of hammering a nail into your right hand after your other three limbs had been secured). In order to be properly crucified, Jesus needed a third party to do the honours. Enter the Jews. If they hadn’t killed Jesus, Christianity would never have existed.

What makes the controversy even more ridiculous is that Jesus explicitly told his followers that, when attacked, they should turn the other cheek. So Christians are not only honour bound to forgive the Jews, but they really should offer themselves up for crucifixion as well.

Why do organised religions get their knickers in such a twist? One answer comes from a Buddhist story I heard in a Christian church. An old Buddhist master kept a cat, but found that the animal distracted his students during meditation. So the master decided to tie his cat up during the meditation hour. Years passed and the old master died. His students kept his cat and continued to tie it up before meditating. Then the cat died, and the students bought another cat and continued the practice. A thousand years later, scholars were writing long treatises on the spiritual significance of tying up a cat prior to meditation.

The dogmas, practices and traditions that are an intrinsic part of any organisation are a distraction from spirituality. Going to church doesn’t make you a nice person. Neither does praying five times a day – look at Mohammed Atta. True spirituality is about being loving, compassionate and generous, regardless of your religious viewpoint.

No one disputes that organised religions have good intentions. But some of those good intentions are leading the Catholic Church to oppose condom distribution in impoverished communities threatened by AIDS. The road to genocide is paved with good intentions.

I don’t dispute for a moment that many religious people do incredible work in some of the most desolate parts of the world. The only reason the Catholic Church has such sway in impoverished communities is because it has been helping them to fight hunger and disease for so long. But that doesn’t change the corruption, hypocrisy and misguidance among the hierarchy. The moral and sexual diktats of an archaic, supposedly celibate, male-dominated institution seem increasingly ridiculous to a growing number. We see through the empty rituals, the one-size-fits-all sermons, the bureaucratic and political wrangling that consume all organisations. What the disaffected among us need is disorganised religion.

What does that term mean? Sincere soul-searching, regardless of belief system. All spiritual traditions ultimately lead to the same awakenings regarding truth, compassion and acceptance. If that’s not your cup of tea, don’t worry. Like most attributes, human spirituality exists in all of us in wildly differing quantities. If you’re not spiritually inclined, don’t let it bother you. Just stay away from churches, mosques and synagogues: non-spiritual people in religious institutions are a recipe for hypocrisy and fanaticism.

This is one of the reasons I recommend atheism. It doesn’t have any institutions for the non-spiritual to abuse – here’s one I disorganised earlier. Apart from that, atheism is a belief system like any other. Christians place their faith in men who were frocks. Atheists place their faith in nerds who wear lab coats. Some claim that the latter have more objective evidence on their side. But can humans ever really be objective, particularly about religion? Whatever way you look at it, atheism is a leap of faith. Personally, I think it’s a much smaller and less perilous leap than that involved in Islam or Hinduism, but it is a leap none-the-less.

Certain religious fascists have argued that atheists have no culture or imagination. It is true that, in this part of the world, atheists shun a church which inspired, funded and preserved many great cultural treasures. But William Shakespeare was inspired, funded and preserved by an oligarchic and ruthlessly violent British monarchy. Surely one may shun the violence, social deprivation and inequality which that monarchy promoted, while retaining an appreciation of Shakespearean drama? If one must believe in Christ to appreciate Michelangelo or St. Peter’s Basilica then surely one must believe in Zeus to appreciate Greek philosophy and sculpture. Presumably only those who acknowledge cats as divine beings, can be impressed by the pyramids.

Many claim that the true meaning of life is contained in the Bible, the Koran or the teachings of Buddha. I don’t believe humanity is that simple (would that it were so). If there is any meaning to our lives, it is not to be found in any single culture, but rather in comparing many societies and traditions, separating what is universal from what is local. Every religion has its creation myth, but only the full pantheon of human history can tell us where we really came from. Ours is a long history, fraught with ambiguities, complexities and chaos. But if you ask me, it provides a far more plausible explanation of our modern world than the story of a guy nailed to a cross for a couple of days, by a cabal who wouldn’t eat salami.

If you only know one thing about Eminem, know this: he was born into a community which has no public voice. His neighbours and schoolmates will never become journalists or lawyers or politicians. The closest any of them will get to a TV studio will be as an exhibit on the Jerry Springer Show. When someone from such a disenfranchised community attains a public platform, I say we sit up and listen. When what that person says resonates with tens of millions all over the world, I say we ignore him at our peril.

Eminem’s legion of critics seldom stray beyond three observations about his lyrics. They’re misogynistic, they’re homophobic, and they’re unsuitable for young children. All three observations are literally true. None constitutes an intelligent indictment – or even a basic understanding – of the artist’s work. And none of these objections would be raised if he worked in a more middle-class medium.

Trainspotting is a masterpiece of modern independent cinema. It is also totally unsuitable viewing for eight year-old children. But no one criticises the film or its director on this basis. We accept upper age limits for movies, and increasingly for TV shows and computer games. We’d do the same for novels, plays and art exhibitions if more little blighters took any interest in them. Maybe the music industry needs such a system. But that’s not Eminem’s problem – particularly as his latest album declares his sympathy with concerned parents: “I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t let Haillie [his own young daughter] listen to me neither”. In a world of ever more extreme media, ever more accessible, ever more shamelessly marketed to children, protection is the responsibility of parents, not artists.

If Eminem was a sculptor, a painter or a playwright, reviewers would rave that his ‘shocking’ and ‘important’ work ‘unflinchingly explores themes of misogyny and homophobia’. But he’s a rapper. And so his critics – secure in the knowledge that poor people can’t be objective – proclaim that he is a misogynist and homophobe. Perhaps if they listened more closely they would realise that Eminem is using homophobic and misogynistic language to provoke Middle America into exposing its own hypocrisy. And it’s working.

Every time the rapper says something politically incorrect, Lynn Cheney or Tipper Gore lead the mother’s of the Bible Belt in screaming for his head. But these outraged citizens do nothing to help America’s impoverished millions. As long as their tax cuts pay for them to go private, they couldn’t give “two squirts of piss” if public schools and hospitals collapse. They think of Eminem as ‘White Trash’ yet they would have simultaneous cardiac arrest if their children coined the terms “Female Trash”, “Gay Trash”, or “Black Trash”.

The rapper highlighted this hypocrisy when commenting on the school shootings in Columbine and other affluent suburbs. The media blamed Marilyn Manson, prompting Eminem to ask, “where were the parents at? …Middle America. Now it’s a tragedy. Now it’s so sad to see – in upper class cities – /having this happening. /Then attack Eminem.”

He is furious at a society which prides itself on fairness and open-mindedness, while keeping all the power in the hands of the wealthy. “This democracy of hypocrisy…The Divided States of Embarrassment,” calls itself ‘the land of opportunity’ and then undemocratically hands the Presidency to a rich daddy’s boy who can’t string a sentence together. Eminem is determined “to ambush this Bush administration/… push this generation/ of kids to stand and fight/ for the right/ to say something that you might not like”.

Personally, I don’t agree with, approve of, or admire everything Eminem says. But he’s making a powerful and timely point. The U.S. Constitution guarantees Freedom of Speech. The U.S. Government feels perfectly justified in fighting pre-emptive wars, wherever it sees fit, in the name of ‘Freedom’ (they would have called the last war ‘Operation Iraqi Liberation’ but that spells O.I.L.). Yet when a member of the poor, disenfranchised masses tries to exercise their suppposed freedom, all hell breaks loose. “Congress keeps telling me I ain’t causin nothing but problems/ And now they’re saying I’m in trouble with the Government/ I’m lovin it/ I shovelled shit all my life/ And now I’m dumping it/ on White America.”

Eminem’s work is even more important given the music industry’s on-going love affair with mundane lyrics and manufactured bands. “I’m sick of you little girl and boy groups/ all you do is annoy me/ so I have been sent here to destroy you.” Eminem is living proof that a diverse contemporary audience still want to hear cleverly-written, thought-provoking, politically-charged songs. I say ‘Hallelujah’.

And his songs do provoke strong feelings. The track ‘Drips’ opens with an explicit description of unprotected sex. It goes on to blame the spread of AIDS on female promiscuity. As a feminist I find this notion offensive and I suspect that it’s not terribly accurate. But this song is probably increasing contraceptive-use among poorly-educated young men – the demographic that ‘stay safe’ campaigns have had least effect on. If one song can slow the spread of AIDS in ghettos across the States, then what good is my self-righteous feminism to anybody?

Eminem’s greatest talent – the key to his success – is his ability to articulate anger. The anger of a kid abandoned by his father; the anger of a child raised by an unstable, drug-addicted, single mother; the anger of a talented young man expected to work a McJob forever. It is almost out of control, lashing out at those in his immediate sphere and also at the shady political forces which conspire to keep the downtrodden in their place. His is the anger of the poor, disenfranchised community from which he comes.

Thus his most terrifying lyric has nothing to do with misogyny or homophobia. It’s a simple question: “Tell me/ how much easier would life be/ if 19 million motherfuckers grew to be just like me?”

Don’t shoot the messenger. Listen up.