Taoiseach denies early return from Japan for All-Ireland hurling semi-final
During a heated exchange with Sinn Féin TD Pearse Doherty at the Oireachtas Committee on Finance, Micheál Martin said his flight home travelled through Toronto rather than Dubai due to the risk of flight cancellations caused by airspace closures and the security situation facing the Middle East.
He told the committee: "The people who organised the trip on my behalf took a view that the Middle East was problematic in terms of cancellations and activity.
"The alternative would have had me in at 12pm, the way I went I came in at 8am. I had nothing to do with it - I don't book the travel.
"In terms of the security at the time, these were booked a week in advance, in the Middle East there are issues we all know, and in terms of cancellation of flights and challenges, that was the precautionary approach that those who booked the flights took."
Mr Martin later added: "Can I just say, categorically, the truth does matter in these matters.
"This had nothing to do with the match, the match was on at 5pm that day, so either route would have had me in at 8 or 12."
Mr Doherty said the "facts" were that Mr Martin would have missed the match, which the Taoiseach described as "rubbish".
Mr Doherty asked if the security advice was shared by the Department of the Taoiseach with the media cohort who travelled to Japan to cover the trip.
He said: "What you're telling us is your department had advice - do not fly into Dubai on the way home.
"So you booked the flight home through Toronto at a cost to the taxpayer. But there was media travelling with you, and it appears you never shared the security advice to members of the Irish media.
"If there was a security advice that risked you flying through Dubai, why would you not share that with other Irish citizens who were accompanying you on the trip?"
Mr Martin said members of the media took their own advices and organised their own travel.
Mr Doherty then pressed the Taoiseach on whether there was an additional cost in changing the flights, to which Mr Martin said to his knowledge there was not.
Mr Doherty said: "Obviously there had to be an additional cost, is it not the case that there were already flights home through Dubai and then you went and booked other flights through Toronto?"
Mr Martin said he would submit the final cost to the committee at a later date and that it would also be published online.
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Irish Examiner
an hour ago
- Irish Examiner
Travel experts share their once-in-a-lifetime itineraries for hidden Ireland
'My first tour was in 1998, right after the Omagh bomb. So it was quite the strange time,' says Ginger Aarons. From the peace process and the Celtic Tiger to the advent of a multicultural society, the travel expert and genealogy enthusiast has seen huge changes across the island of Ireland in the 27 years she's been bringing clients here on tailor-made travel trips. And she's not alone. Her fellow bespoke tour operators, Kate McCabe and Max Sussman of Bog & Thunder and Rachel Gaffney of Rachel Gaffney's Real Ireland, have also been blazing a trail from the US to highlight a 21st-century vision of Ireland to their clients, and each have their own take on what that is. Their tours are high-end, once-in-a-lifetime experiences, but all are agreed on one thing: luxury is not necessarily about helicopters, champagne, and five stars. It's to be found in those magical moments of connection, a hidden Ireland that's there, waiting to be revealed, if we just give it the opportunity to do so. Rachel Gaffney at the Port of Cork Rachel Gaffney Rachel Gaffney's Real Ireland 'Take your time. Otherwise you're just doing a drive-by,' is what Cork woman Rachel Gaffney advises the Americans for whom she organises bespoke tours of Ireland. 'Allow Ireland to unveil herself, because she will,' says the Dallas-based slow-travel advocate. Gaffney moved to the States in 1996, having worked in the Irish and UK hotel industry for decades. She set up her own travel company, Rachel Gaffney's Real Ireland, when she moved Stateside, and every year spends 12 weeks in Ireland doing on-the-ground research of what's new and what will chime with her clientele, who, typically, 'have a home in Aspen, and a home in Palm Beach, a home here, and a home there'. 'They have pretty high standards,' she says. 'They may say they're low maintenance, and in fairness, most are. Just get it right for them, that's all they want. 'I have a plan, but I don't have a plan,' she says of her annual deep dive into what Ireland has to offer. Coupled with her natural curiosity and an instinct for the new and unusual, what unfolds for her clients is an eclectic mix. While super-luxe spots invariably feature — 'Ashford and Ballyfin, those are the no-brainers. I send people there because I want them to experience that' — if a place can meet her exacting standards, it stands a chance of making the cut. 'I love Perryville House in Kinsale. Their breakfast is one of the most gorgeous in Ireland.' Rachel Gaffney on Inis Mór Gaffney has an eye for perfection, and the custom luggage racks in Perryville's rooms — no bending down required — merit special mention: 'the ergonomics of how you travel was thought about'. 'I'm matchmaking,' Gaffney says of her role as curator of a bespoke offering. 'I'm putting clients in the right place for them.' The 'truly spectacular' Dunluce Lodge in Co Antrim, is one of her recent discoveries, and only opened its doors this spring. 'When I visited, they were working on a putting green, which will be the largest putting green in Ireland. It's for the residents. So, in the evening, you can sit overlooking the sand dunes and the fourth fairway of Royal Portrush and the ocean. Then, if you like, you can walk outside and practice your putting by a fire pit.' Gaffney likes to immerse herself in a place. 'I sit in bars and restaurants by myself. I talk to people. I want to see what's happening in the area. I want to get a feel for the area, a sense of it. I want to be able to tell my clients, 'when you drive out the driveway and take a left, you can continue that coast road or you can take a fork...'' She rates Clare, calling the county one that's 'really starting to punch above its weight', and namechecks Doolin's Fiddle and Bow — 'the natural colours, the simplicity, the bare floorboards; they brought the outside in' — and the Michelin-starred Homestead Cottage: 'It's literally in the middle of nowhere.' 'I'm finding some of the best hospitality is in the most inaccessible places. If I send people, they'll throw the red carpet out for them. They'll just be so delighted to have you.' Cork is close to her heart too, with one of her 'most favourite hotels', Clonakilty's Dunmore House, sparking memories of a past trip. Gaffney had spontaneously decided to organise a morning yoga class for a group of ladies on an adjacent tiny beach and the hotel staff stepped up to elevate their experience. After the yoga 'what happened was these women, who were in their 60s and 70s, forgot themselves. They were running up and down to the water, making sandcastles. The head gardener had made a fresh-flower crown for the creator of the best one,' Gaffney recalls. 'The hotel staff brought us blankets and a picnic of strawberries and fruit from their garden and cheeses from the English Market. We were still there at four in the afternoon. It was the best day ever. Then the ladies went back to the hotel and had this fabulous dinner and sang songs in the bar. Just magical. That's luxury.' Rachel loves: Wilder Townhouse, Adelaide Rd, D2: 'It was a mansion for retired school governesses. The history in that building is so interesting.' Vandeleur Walled Gardens, Kilrush, Co Clare: 'Spectacular.' Barrow House in Tralee: 'A white Georgian manor house overlooking Barrow Bay. Ekotree knitwear, Doolin, Co Clare: 'The finest cashmere gloves I've ever seen.' Bog & Thunder's Kate McCabe and Max Sussman. 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'When we design our tours, we usually have a theme or a narrative that we're telling throughout the tour. We're doing a tour in August with Youngmi Mayer, a Korean-American comedian whose paternal grandmother is from Cork. She just published a memoir where she talks about being Irish and not really being accepted for being Irish because she looks Korean. She's never been to Ireland before.' Everyone will 'eat amazing food', McCabe says, and there will be talks on 'Irish history and colonisation and immigration and emigration, to ground people in the themes that Youngmi talks about in her book.' Bog & Thunder lead a group around The Burren The duo like the value of involving people 'who aren't necessarily guides' in the tour conversations and are also passionate about 'trying to translate to people, whether they come on guided trips or do our private itineraries, how much of a multicultural nation Ireland is'. They feel hidden Ireland still exists, but like Gaffney, emphasise the need to venture off the beaten track to find it. 'Give yourself a little bit of time and freedom to explore a little bit. Every time we're in Ireland, we meet new people who are doing incredible things.' Once again, the Antrim coast comes up. 'One of our favourite bakeries in Ireland is Ursa Minor in Ballycastle.' Lir, a seafood restaurant in Coleraine, also gets the nod. 'We like to send people there,' McCabe says. 'It's a very beautiful spot, they're very into sustainable seafood, and sustainability is a pillar of our organisation. We like to connect travellers with people that are really walking the walk and actually translating their ethics into the food that they serve in their restaurants.' Another sustainable seafood spot they love is Goldie, on Oliver Plunkett Street in Cork, while the city's Izz Café is cited as a 'great example of an immigrant couple who moved to Ireland and started a food business'. Baltimore's two Michelin star Dede, which they acknowledge as likely to be already on people's radar, is 'one of the best restaurants in Ireland'. One of the things that makes it really special, in addition to the food, is how warm and hospitable it is,' McCabe says. 'And I'd be remiss if we were to talk about Co Cork and not mention our dear friend, Sally Barnes, the only fish smoker on the island of Ireland to work exclusively with wild fish, which is something that we consider really important.' Since 2022, McCabe and Sussman have hosted a podcast, Dyed Green, exploring Irish food and culture, and the duo have 'a medium-term goal of moving to Ireland. We'd love to own and operate a B&B with a food component one day.' Bog & Thunder love: Native Guest House, Ballydehob: We just organised a private writing retreat for some clients there. Seaweed & Saltwater camper vans: For travellers who really want to get off the beaten path and travel sustainably, they have a small fleet of eco-friendly luxury Mercedes Sprinter camper vans. They're both off-grid AND high end, and you can shower and enjoy a good night's sleep on quality sheets. Dingle Sea Salt: A project run by Tom Leach & Moe McKeown, two surfer-scientists who hand harvest and use polytunnels to evaporate all of their salt. Ginger Aarons at Torr Head Ginger Aarons Time Travel Tours Yes, it's her real name, Ginger Aarons tells me over Zoom from Portland, mentioning the Duke of Abercorn is also a sceptic: 'he can't imagine anybody would ever christen me Ginger'. That impressive namedrop is a clue as to one of Aarons's areas of expertise, genealogy; the flame-haired entrepreneur is also a master gardener, and combines these passions in her bespoke travel business, Time Travel Tours. She's been bringing clients to Ireland to find their lineage since 1998, and can trace her own paternal Maguire ancestry back to the Flight of the Earls in the 17th century. On her mother's side, Aarons's Dublin-born ancestor arrived 'in Virginia about 1710', meaning her US ancestors predate the founding of the United States. 'My forefathers fought in the Revolutionary War.' While her own expertise is considerable — 'Ashford Castle uses me for their genealogy' — she recruits experts, such as historic garden consultant and plantsman Neil Porteous and architectural historian Robert O'Byrne, 'so that everybody gets a well-rounded look at Ireland and at the history'. 'Taking people around to the gardens in Ireland is fantastic, and I have so much support — at Mount Stewart, Lady Rose came in and they gave us a Champagne welcome. I have great people on the ground.' Her genealogy tours have a maximum of 12 participants. While they research in libraries and pore over records in great houses, her clients also frequently find themselves in graveyards in search of an ancestor's resting place, with everyone helping each other in their quest. She has long worked with Historic Houses of Ireland but a new venture will see her promoting education around them and giving 'the Irish people more reason to go to these houses, whether it's for a concert or a country weekend'. Ginger Aarons in Armagh Also in the works is an associated educational film, and a book 'Dogs of Historic Houses, which is going to be from the dog's point of view'. Aarons believes that hidden Ireland is to be found in these historic houses, some of which have new owners who are bringing new life to these 'hidden gems', as they welcome paying guests for the first time and find inventive ways of making their properties generate income. Over the course of a fortnight, Aarons's garden tour clients often see three gardens a day, but the pace is never rushed, and food is always an integral part of the tailor-made experience. 'We do a salvia class at Jimmy Blake's and then go to Russborough House for lunch and a history tour. We'll meet the Royal Horticultural Society of Ireland volunteers who look after the walled garden at Russborough, and then go to June Blake's [near Blessington] for afternoon tea.' This September, Aarons's garden enthusiasts will be enjoying cookery lessons from Paul Flynn at Dungarvan's The Tannery, another 'hidden gem', and stopping off at Manning's Food Emporium, near Ballylickey in Cork. 'I've been going there for 25 years. We've had little kids come in and do their music and dancing. Then we'd have our picnic lunch and go to Bantry House for the history and the gardens. We'll be doing that again.' A new trend Aarons has noticed is more people visting Ireland for sport. 'They want to see games, even if it's a local hurling or soccer game. People are very interested in what Irish people do in daily life.' Ginger loves: Enniscoe House, Co Mayo. 'You can do a lot of walking and fishing, enjoy a glass of whiskey by the fire, and they allow dogs stay.' Dunraven Arms Hotel, Adare, Co Limerick: 'A great little hidden gem.' A virtual reconstruction of the Record Treasury and its records which were lost in a fire in 1922. 'You can research your ancestry, and look up wills and all kinds of letters on there.'
Irish Examiner
an hour ago
- Irish Examiner
Daniel O'Connell personified the perpetual importance of an independent Bar
On July 27, 1813, in the Court of King's Bench in Dublin, Daniel O'Connell rose to defend John Magee, publisher of the Dublin Evening Post, against a charge of criminal libel. His speech that day demonstrated how a skilled barrister could transform an oppressive legal system into an instrument of political change. The case of The King v. John Magee remains one of the most memorable examples of O'Connell's extraordinary ability to use his legal expertise in the service of justice and reform. The charge against Magee arose from his publication of a review criticising the departing Lord Lieutenant, the Duke of Richmond. The article condemned Richmond's errors in governing Ireland and compared him to the worst of his predecessors, who were described as 'the profligate unprincipled Westmorland, the cold-hearted and cruel Camden, the artful and treacherous Cornwallis'. More significantly, it challenged the fundamental principle of British rule in Ireland — 'a principle of exclusion, which debars the majority of the people from the enjoyment of those privileges that are possessed by the minority'. This was no ordinary libel case. As O'Connell understood, it was unavoidably a political case, and it demanded a political speech. The prosecution was designed to suppress dissent and maintain the exclusion of Ireland's Catholic majority from political participation. Attorney General William Saurin made this clear in his opening, describing Magee as a 'ruffian' whose purpose was 'to excite [in the minds of the population] hatred against those whom the laws have appointed to rule over them, and prepare them for revolution'. O'Connell faced formidable obstacles. The law of criminal libel was so broad that, as he later observed, 'every letter I ever published could be declared a libel' and the libel law could 'produce a conviction with a proper judge and jury for The Lord's Prayer with due legal inuendoes'. More damaging still was the composition of the jury — hand-picked to ensure conviction. With characteristic boldness, O'Connell confronted this unfairness head-on, telling the jurors: 'Gentlemen, he [the Attorney General] thinks he knows his men; he knows you; many of you signed the no-popery petition... you would not have been summoned on this jury if you had entertained liberal sentiments'. Rather than being cowed by these disadvantages, O'Connell turned them into weapons. He began by meeting Saurin's personal attacks, describing the Attorney General's speech as a 'farrago of helpless absurdity'. When Saurin had stooped to calling Magee a ruffian and comparing him to 'the keeper of a house of ill fame', O'Connell lamented how far Saurin fell below the standards of the great Irish barristers such as Curran and Ponsonby: 'Devoid of taste and of genius, how can he have had memory enough to preserve this original vulgarity — he is, indeed, an object of compassion; and, from my inmost soul, I bestow on him my forgiveness and my bounteous pity'. O'Connell was even able to use Saurin's own words against him. When the Attorney General accused Magee of Jacobinism, O'Connell recalled Saurin's defence of himself against the same charge in 1800, when Saurin, then anti-union, had declared that 'agitation is ... the price necessarily paid for liberty'. O'Connell's response was devastating: 'We have paid the price, gentlemen, and the honest man refuses to give us the goods'. What made O'Connell's defence truly remarkable was how he transformed a hopeless legal case into a powerful platform for political reform. His bold claim: 'the Catholic cause is on its majestic march — its progress is rapid and obvious... We will, we must, be soon emancipated' is electrifying even now. What must it have sounded like in his voice, in that court, in that trial, in those times? His confidence in his legal position was equally striking. When Saurin threatened to crush the Catholic Board, O'Connell declared: 'I am, if not a lawyer, at least a barrister. On this subject, I ought to know something; and I do not hesitate to contradict the Attorney General ... the Catholic Board is perfectly a legal assembly — that it not only does not violate the law, but that it is entitled to the protection of the law' Perhaps the most significant moment came not during the trial itself, but at the sentencing hearing on November 27, 1813. When Saurin attempted to use Magee's publication of O'Connell's defence speech as grounds for increasing Magee's sentence, O'Connell delivered what may be his most important statement on the role of the legal profession. In the face of personal threats of contempt and possible imprisonment following his denunciation of the Attorney General, O'Connell stood firm, delivering an impassioned defence of the importance of an independent Bar: 'It is the first interest of the public that the Bar shall be left free... the public are deeply interested in our independence; their properties, their lives, their honours, are entrusted to us; and if we, in whom such a guardianship is confided, be degraded, how can we afford protection to others?'. This was not merely professional self-interest, but a profound understanding of the Bar's constitutional role. In a system designed to exclude the majority from political participation, an independent legal profession became the last protection of individual rights. O'Connell grasped the fact that, without fearless advocates willing to challenge authority, the law would become merely an instrument of oppression. That is why, as the Taoiseach, Micheál Martin, put it when addressing the O'Connell 250 Symposium in Trinity College Dublin on Tuesday last, The Bar of Ireland has always been rightly proud of the fact that O'Connell was such a distinguished member of the Bar. Two hundred years later, the existence of a fearless independent Bar, practising advocacy and giving legal advice to the highest professional standards, remains an essential guarantee of the rule of law and the protection of individual rights. The many, often insidious, efforts that exist, whether prompted by powerful commercial, bureaucratic or political interests, to degrade or diminish the Bar are always, above all else, an attack on the rights of citizens and on the rule of law. O'Connell's performance in The King v. John Magee exemplifies the best traditions of forensic advocacy at The Bar of Ireland. Faced with a corrupt system, a biased tribunal, and impossible odds, he refused to bow his head or moderate his principles. Instead, he turned the forms and processes of an unjust and oppressive system against itself, using a political prosecution against dissenting speech as the means to condemn the oppressor and amplify the dissent. In an age when legal systems worldwide face challenges to their integrity and especially to the independence of barristers and advocates, O'Connell's example reminds us that the law's highest purpose is not merely to maintain order, but to secure justice. His defence of John Magee shows the difference a single barrister, armed with skill, courage, and unwavering principle, can make. Seán Guerin SC. Picture: Conor McCabe Photography. Seán Guerin SC is Chair of the Council of The Bar of Ireland
Irish Examiner
an hour ago
- Irish Examiner
Colin Sheridan: Obama's silence on Gaza makes Freedom of Dublin award deeply problematic
There's a long and noble Irish tradition of giving medals to people who don't need them. Mimicking our one-time oppressors, we're good at the pomp and pageantry, terrible at timing. And in this grand tradition of ceremonial sycophancy, we've now decided to give the Freedom of Dublin to Barack Obama — the same Barack Obama whose presidential legacy includes a kill list, expanded drone warfare, and now, more recently, a silence on Gaza so deafening it practically registers on the Richter scale. Now, before someone starts waving a Hope poster in my face and singing 'Is Feider Linn', let's be clear: this isn't a character assassination. Barack Obama is, by many accounts, charming, intelligent, a skilled orator, and less overtly monstrous than some who followed him. But if the bar for receiving Dublin's highest civic honour is simply 'better than Trump,' then let's all take turns. This isn't about left or right. It's about right and wrong. And giving Obama the keys to a city that prides itself on solidarity, social justice and neutrality — a city only a century since it's own liberation from colonisers, a city that once shut down its port in protest of apartheid — is a moral absurdity that would be funny if it weren't so grotesque. Let's talk about Gaza. Right now, we're witnessing an unquestionable genocide, one that even conservative estimates rank among the worst atrocities in recent memory. Tens of thousands dead. Children buried under rubble. Journalists and doctors targeted with impunity. And what's Obama's response? A few muted bromides about 'the complexity of the situation' and the usual plea for restraint — the kind of lukewarm platitude you'd expect from someone looking to protect a Netflix deal, not someone once hailed as the conscience of the free world. Remember, this is the same man who, while president, gave Israel the largest military aid package in US history — $38bn over ten years. The same man who watched as Gaza was pummelled in 2014, and then blocked efforts at the UN for accountability. In Obama's world, apparently, some lives matter more than others — and it's not the ones buried under the debris in Khan Younis So let's ask: What, exactly, are we honouring? Is it the weekly 'Terror Tuesday' meetings where he personally signed off on drone strikes — many of which killed civilians, including children, with such frequency that his administration had to redefine the word 'combatant' to keep the numbers palatable? Is it the Nobel Peace Prize he received before bombing seven countries? Or is it the charming eloquence with which he explained away extrajudicial assassinations and mass surveillance? Maybe it's the warm pint he had in Moneygall. Maybe that's enough. Maybe our foreign policy is so thin it can be blown over by a puff of Guinness foam. Obama's defenders, and there are many, will say: "He tried." They'll point to the Iran deal. They'll mention the thaw with Cuba. And fair enough — no presidency is black and white (though drone strikes absolutely are). But a Freedom of the City is not a footnote in a CV. It's a declaration of values. And at a time when Dublin has become a symbol — however small — of international moral conscience on Gaza, this award feels not just tone-deaf, but actively insulting It's worth asking how we'd feel if another country handed such an honour to, say, Tony Blair, citing his contribution to the peace process while politely ignoring Iraq. We'd scoff. We'd march. We'd write strongly-worded op-eds, the kind I'm doing now. And yet, because Obama quotes Seamus Heaney and has a smile that makes white liberals feel good about themselves, we're expected to ignore the trail of bodies left in his geopolitical wake. It's also galling because the Freedom of Dublin isn't just symbolic fluff — at least, it wasn't meant to be. It should be given to people like Nelson Mandela and John Hume — people whose lives were defined by their resistance to violence, not their management of it. To toss Obama into that company is like inviting Monsanto to an organic farming festival. Let's not pretend this is just a harmless bit of civic theatre. In a world as interconnected and morally muddled as ours, gestures matter. They signal what we stand for And giving Obama this award now — as children in Gaza die in silence, too exhausted to even scream — sends a very clear message: that brand is more important than behaviour, that the image of progress is more valuable than the practice of it. And to those in Dublin City Council who greenlit this award: shame on you. Not because Obama is uniquely evil — he's not — but because you should know better. You should know that real solidarity isn't measured in photo ops, but in principles. You should know that timing matters. Context matters. And right now, there's blood on the sand in Gaza, and silence in the White House archives. We don't need empty ceremonies. We need moral courage. And giving the Freedom of Dublin to Barack Obama is not an act of courage. It's an act of cowardice wrapped in a velvet sash.
