Vita Viri Publishing – förlag

Ireland left the room poor, holy andapologetic. It came back rich, righteous and remarkably sure of itself.On paper, it's one of the wealthiestcountries in the world. In practice, approaching a million people circlehospital waiting lists, a generation struggles to afford a home, governmentexpands while delivery remains strangely elusive, and a vast 'non-governmental'sector depends heavily on government money while helping to write the script.Ireland has also become rather confident in explaining its moral obligations,to itself and occasionally to everyone else.Patrick Duffy left Ireland young and hasspent much of the past thirty-five years as both emigrant and immigrant: closeenough to care, far enough away to notice when the furniture moved.He has also spent three decades running,studying and researching organisations, including government and publicinstitutions. That gives this book its particular question: what happens whenwhat an institution says it is delivering and what people actually experiencestop matching?Across twelve satirical, evidence-ledchapters, Duffy follows that question through Ireland's peculiar economicsuccess, public-sector 'capability', the State-funded NGO world, housing andhealth, land and forestry, immigration, increasingly convergent politics,Brussels and its expanding vocabulary of 'obligations', and Ireland's newermoral certainties.What emerges is less a collection offailures than a recurring trick.The lefty leprechaun holds thegold: money, authority, expertise or public trust. The wish is granted,technically, through another strategy, programme, review, consultation ordeclaration of progress, while the thing people actually wanted remains strangelyelusive.The champagne paddy raises a glassto the granting.This isn't a hunt for villains and itrequires no conspiracy. The more interesting question is why Ireland, among itsWestern peers, seems particularly susceptible to this arrangement: whyinstitutions so readily confuse activity with achievement, why grand declarationsof virtue travel so comfortably, and why we can often be remarkably willing toaccept the sermon once it comes from the right pulpit.Written with an emigrant's affection, anoperator's suspicion of institutional theatre, and an Irishman's refusal towaste a perfectly good absurdity, Lefty Leprechauns and Champagne Paddiesis sharp, sourced, and unapologetically satirical.It's for anyone who loves Ireland enoughto be furious with it, laugh at it and still expect better.Because the gold may be there. It might finally be worth checking what it'smade of.