Latest news with #Keating
Sunday World
13 hours ago
- General
- Sunday World
Rihanna's ex-bodyguard slams ‘ridiculous' justice system after appeal victory
Images of chalk depictions revealed Images of the symbols, three large depictions of the letters 'xe' can be published by this newspaper for the first time today. Last month, Mr. Keating successfully had his conviction for criminal damage, arising from the incident on Mellows Road on May 9th, 2022, overturned in the District Court Appeals Court. 'The whole thing was ridiculous,' Mr. Keating, who survived a shooting attempt on his life last year, told the Sunday World. 'I drew the symbols to protest the treatment of juveniles. 'These were Nordic symbols and for that, for drawing chalk symbols on the grounds, I was arrested, charged and convicted of criminal damage 'At one stage, the piece of chalk was handed in to the judge as an exhibit. 'But the actual CCTV of the incident had disappeared and couldn't be found.' Asked why he had drawn the symbols, Mr. Keating said it was to protest the alleged ill treatment of minors. 'There's been a few cases involving minors and the gardai and I mentioned these in court,' he said. 'It was also claimed I had said the symbols were to remove evil spirits. 'But the garda's own statement shows I never said any such thing.' Read more A copy of Gda Roger's statement seen by the Sunday World mentions only that when he questioned Mr. Keating, the latter explained that 'these symbols were for Gardai protection and he stated: 'I will go to any lengths to protect children.' He said after he arrested Mr. Keating under section 12 of the Criminal Damage Act, Mr. Keating did not make any reply after caution. Mr. Keating told the Sunday World that said he had explained the meaning of the symbols and had actually taken a cup of water from the garda station with him on his release to wash them away. However, it had rained while he was in the station and they were mostly gone by the time he was released. Geoff Keating, pictured with Rihanna Mr. Keating was convicted criminal damage in Blanchardstown District Court on May 27th, 2022 where he was given a fine of €200. Appearing on Mr. Keating's behalf at the District Court Appeals Court last week, barrister Paddy Flynn successfully argued that the appeal was based on issues of proportionality. He said Mr. Keating should not have received a conviction in the first place. Constitutional rights as well as ECHR (European Court of Human Rights) rights protect the rights to protest and freely express oneself and it appeared on any proportionality assessment of the facts that what occurred was not such to be treated as criminal. He said Mr Keating had given strong evidence that he had acted in the most peaceful and non-violent manner in achieving his act of protest. Judge Catherine White said she agreed with the defence in this case that the conviction was disproportionate and allowed Mr Keating's appeal against his conviction.
Irish Examiner
5 days ago
- Politics
- Irish Examiner
Ireland on a journey from solid fuel to clean and green
In 1939, the painter Séan Keating produced a mural for the Irish pavilion at the World Fair in New York. The theme of the Fair was 'The World of Tomorrow'. Keating's mural depicts the monumental Ardnacrusha hydroelectric power station built in 1929, a twin propeller Aer Lingus plane and, in the middle, a mechanical peat excavator representing the fledgling peat industry. The Turf Development Board was established in 1934 by the newly elected Fianna Fáil Government. In the early 1930s, turf was entirely cut by hand and was largely for domestic use. Coal was the predominant fuel in the country, imported from Britain with infrastructure and logistics to support it — from Dublin port to the coal hatches built into Victorian houses. Unlike the modern feat of engineering represented by Ardnacrusha, the traditional practice of turf-cutting was associated with backwardness and poverty, a legacy of the colonial era. One Fine Gael TD, opposed to the development of an indigenous turf industry, quipped: 'I never thought that the day would come in this country when a Bill would be introduced into our Parliament purporting to solve unemployment by turning the people's eyes to the bogs of Ireland.' Thirty years later, the Bellacorrick turf-fuelled power station was opened with a celebratory dance in Crossmolina town hall. The Western People declared it the 'event of the century', noting that fifty years earlier, the realisation of such a project would have been more unlikely than an independent Irish state. Eighty people were employed in the power station, three hundred on the bog, providing electricity to rural households, farms and businesses. The familiar story of Irish modernisation begins with Séan Lemass ushering in T.K. Whitaker's new economic policy in the early 1960s. This periodisation insists that the Ireland that came before 1960 was backward, inward-looking and conservative. But where does this leave Séan Keating's confident mural depicting a brave new modern Republic? Where does it leave the history of Ireland's peat industry, initially a project of sovereign development and energy decolonisation? And how does this history speak to the present conjuncture of climate crisis, energy insecurity, and Ireland's geopolitical alignments in an uncertain world system? Energy decolonisation In 1956, Todd Andrews, who established the Turf Development Board, gave an address to the Statistical and Social Enquiry Society of Ireland entitled 'Some Precursors Of Bord Na Mona'. He gave generous praise to individuals who were 'characterised by abundance of public spirit' but whose 'endeavours were dissipated in the unpropitious social, economic and political climate of their times.' This climate was, in a word, colonialism. Some might dismiss Andrews' reading as outdated anti-colonial sentiment. But this is to gloss the material ways in which colonialism structures the economic activity of colonised countries, including after formal independence. Dependence on British coal fundamentally constrained Southern Ireland's capacity to embark on energy-intensive, industrial development. The creation of an indigenous turf industry was thus a project of energy decolonisation. Efforts to develop an indigenous energy industry were blocked not only by Britain, but by Irish coal merchants and their associated economic and political allies. When coal merchants were required to sell a certain amount of turf for every unit of coal, W. T. Cosgrave, leader of Fine Gael, argued that this was 'an interference with the citizen's ordinary right to purchase whatever commodity he requires'. The national media aligned with Cosgrave's position, raising the 'spectre of socialism'. To break the status quo, to initiate something new, required state intervention at scale. After World War Two, Bord na Móna was established with new authority and resources to purchase land, embark on 10-year development plans, and to finance these plans through long term, low-interest loans from the state. Within a decade, Ireland had its first turf-fired power stations and the development of 24 new bogs producing over a million tonnes of turf a year. A New Internationalism In 1936, an Irish delegation led by Todd Andrews visited Finland, Germany and Russia. Weismoor was the showpiece of the German turf industry and a tourist attraction for residents of Bremen and Hamburg who came to visit the large glass houses heated with surplus heat from the turf-powered station. Andrews also observed the neat and comfortable houses of those who worked the bogs. 'I made up my mind then', he writes in his memoir, 'that if ever I had the opportunity, I would recognise as a priority the value of maintaining a decent environment for people at work.' For Andrews, these visits demonstrated that turf was not a source of derision or backwardness, but the basis of modern ways of living if only the proper infrastructures and planning were put in place. Between 1950-57, the Bord na Móna research station in Kildare recruited new engineering and agricultural science graduates to experiment with techniques and technologies for exploiting turf. As this expertise developed, it was only right that Ireland hosted the first International Peat Symposium in 1954, with delegates from fifteen countries. At a time when thousands were taking to boats, the Midlands of Ireland saw internal migration in the 1950s and 1960s as the peat industry grew. Bord na Móna was the only semi-state that built housing for its workers. Frank Gibney, a modernist architect and planner, was commissioned to design 'worker villages' from Kildare to Roscommon. These housing developments represented for Andrews, 'the fulfilment of a process aimed at industrialising a rural population while at the same time improving rather than disrupting its environment'. Energy sovereignty According to Todd Andrews, Bord na Móna would not have been possible without Frank Aiken. Better known for his role as Minister for Foreign Affairs through the 1950s and 1960s, Aiken had always been a strong advocate of national industry and the development of indigenous resources. Bord na Móna needed this support. Even the ESB, the main purchaser of peat, was cool towards the industry, understanding that coal, and then oil, offered a more reliable, efficient and, ultimately, cheaper source of fuel for generating electricity. In 1956, Bord na Móna had to lay off technical workers because the ESB refused to purchase more peat. Aiken questioned the Fine Gael Minister responsible: 'Does the Minister think it good national policy to depend on imported coal and oil for the generation of electricity?' The late 1950s was a pivotal moment in Ireland's economic development. Under strong pressure from the US, the country was shifting away from indigenous industrialisation, towards an economy reliant on foreign direct investment. This would ultimately involve new forms of dependency on the US and EEC, undermining what indigenous industry existed, including in the energy sector. Sovereign development means being less dependent on powerful states, such as Britain or the US. This in turn enables a country like Ireland to act more confidently on a world stage. Frank Aiken is best known for representing Ireland at the UN, speaking in favour of the People's Republic of China, supporting decolonisation across the Third World, and pushing for nuclear non-proliferation. Such principled positions were attacked by the opposition in Ireland for putting off US industries and investment. As he advanced Ireland's policy of neutrality and multilateralism in the UN, Aiken also advanced support for newly independent countries across the Third World through solidaristic aid and cooperation. In 1964, Aer Lingus trained up to 80 African and Asian engineers and pilots in the maintenance and flying of planes, while Bord na Móna co-operated with the Government of Pakistan in initiating peat development in that country. Reclaiming the past We should always avoid the trap of nostalgia. But we also need to recognise that history is not a linear path. Despite what we are told, Irish modernity does not begin and end with entry into the EEC and the arrival of US companies. There are modernisation paths that were not taken, promises unfulfilled, that speak to us with new relevance today. At a time when Ireland is doubling down on its dependence on US fossil fuels with Shannon LNG, we should remember our historic struggle for energy sovereignty against Western imperial powers; as Ireland's energy transition is increasingly dictated by the needs of US tech companies and their data centres, we should remember the public ethos and social priorities that drove the development of Bord na Móna; and as we face a situation in which Ireland has abundant offshore wind energy and yet the highest energy prices in the EU, we should remember the political ambition and state planning required to build an indigenous turf industry from the ground up.
Daily Mail
22-05-2025
- Sport
- Daily Mail
Ange Postecoglou hits football fans with a curve ball by talking about a VERY controversial Australian after his history-making Spurs win
Ange Postecoglou has always been a deep thinker - and that was on full display following Tottenham 's triumph in the Europa League final on Wednesday night. At the start of the post-game press conference in Spain, Postecoglou left a room of football journalists scratching their heads after referencing a significant Australian political figure. 'To quote my favourite Australian Prime Minister Paul Keating... after an unlikely victory, this one is for the true believers,' he began. 'We have an unbelievable group of players who never waivered or lost faith in me. 'I understand the disappointment we have put our fans through this season, particularly in the (Premier) league. 'But seeing them the impact (win) this has had... it is a reward for them.' Any non-Australian football fan would have had no idea what the Hotspur boss was talking about. In March of 1993, Keating achieved an extraordinary victory in the Australian federal election, leading the Labor Party to a historic fifth straight term in office. At the time, Keating was widely tipped to lose out to the Coalition government, led by Dr John Hewson. Keating remains a polarising figure in Australia due to his long history of using his wit and sharp tongue to slam figures on the conservative side of politics. He is also widely remembered for saying the country's dire economic downturn in the late 1980s and early '90s was 'the recession we had to have'. While Spurs players - and their jubilant fans - can enjoy their moment in the sun, Postecoglou's future at the club will continue to be a talking point. As Postecoglou boldly stated, he 'always win a trophy in his second season' - and against all the odds, 'Aussie Ange' delivered. Undoubtedly the greatest triumph of his managerial career, the trailblazer became the first Australian manager to win a trophy in a major European club competition. It was also Tottenham's first piece of silverware in 17 years. A scrappy first-half goal from Brennan Johnson was ultimately the difference at the San Mames Stadium, with the victory also guaranteeing Champions League football next season. It is widely anticipated Postecoglou will be shown the door - and if so, what a glorious 'mike drop' exit. At the fulltime whistle, Postecoglou declared: 'I do (want to stay). I don't feel like I've completed the job here. 'The moment I accepted the role, I had one thing in my head, and that is to win something - and we've done that I want to build on it. 'I know our league form's been terrible (currently 17th), nowhere near good enough and unacceptable, but us finishing third wasn't going to change this football club. 'If I fell short, I was happy to cop it, but I believed it inside me. That was my ambition.
Sydney Morning Herald
22-05-2025
- Politics
- Sydney Morning Herald
Trump gets a flying palace. Keating was doomed to a jalopy in the sky
The 707 was Australia's VIP jetliner, but it had seen better days. The little fleet of 707s came from the late 1950s/early '60s era when rock 'n' roll and V8 hot rods ruled and noise pollution wasn't a problem. By the time Keating was PM, the RAAF had to beg permission to land the 707 at many international airports because its two old engines made such a racket, even after they were fitted with exhaust baffles. In 1992, when Keating made an official visit to Tokyo, the Japanese politely explained its international airport, Narita, wasn't suitable. They directed the RAAF to land at Tokyo's domestic airport, which presumably had vintage spanner sets for elderly airframes if the plane broke down. It was humiliating for a prime minister like Keating, whom cartoonists cruelly drew as the modern embodiment of the extravagantly self-absorbed Sun King, France's Louis XIV. I had by then spent happy years flying around the world in the old 707s as part of the press gallery pack. We called it the Zoo Plane. Wine of fine vintage and high jinks of great silliness flowed freely in the media cabin down the back. Until Keating became PM, Bob Hawke smoked cigars and played poker in his suite at the front. It was a most agreeable way to travel the world. But then, in mid-1993, not long after Keating unexpectedly won the federal election against John Hewson, word floated my way through Canberra's rarefied air that the triumphant PM was on the lookout for a new VIP plane. Two, in fact. Quiet conversations confirmed Keating's desire for more-fitting VIP airborne transport, but that his department was on a collision course with the Defence Department, which was worried about the cost. The two planes being considered were Boeing 757s. They weren't flown by any airline in Australia, but they were big and modern and desirable. And expensive. When my story was published in The Sydney Morning Herald, all hell broke loose. The public went into a mild uproar, Keating's Labor colleagues went weak at the knees, and I, as the messenger, got a number of shouty phone calls from offices not too far from the prime minister's own parliamentary suite. Even Keating suddenly found himself unwilling to test the generosity of voters, many of whom were still recovering from what he had called, only three years previously, 'the recession we had to have'. The story killed the planned purchase of new VIP planes stone dead. Keating was still flying around in the ancient 707s three years later when he lost the prime ministership to John Howard. I was not allowed to forget it. Every time I stepped aboard the 707 for a trip overseas, I was reminded by Keating's staff that if the plane fell out of the sky, I was to blame for writing 'that bloody story'. Loading Press gallery colleagues, unhappy at being scooped, took up the sledging with glee. And Keating continued to yearn for a plane more suited to a prime minister of style. In 1995, on a trip to Germany, no sooner had we landed in Bonn than the poor unloved 707 was rolled into a darkened hangar and Keating proceeded to Berlin in a magnificently appointed Airbus lent to him by chancellor Helmut Kohl. Some among the travelling media declared Keating looked green each time he emerged from the Airbus' VIP suite with its gold appointments in the bathroom, its conference room and its super-modern communications. I felt a bit sympathetic. It wasn't unusual for fittings in the ancient 707s to judder loose. I once copped a thump to the head when an internal ceiling panel fell out. Keating was correct. The VIP fleet desperately needed replacements. John Howard eventually got a Boeing Business Jet that was (conveniently) too small to accommodate travelling journalists. The current fleet consists of two Boeing 737s, ordered by Scott Morrison's government and used these days by Anthony Albanese, the governor-general and others. The point, however, was that a prime minister in Australia's political system could not unilaterally choose the style of VIP plane available to him or her. Australia pays for its own perquisites, which are decided by federal departments like Defence and Prime Minister and Cabinet, which have rules and budgets. It is unimaginable that an Australian prime minister would consider accepting a jumbo jet-sized bribe from a foreign country. Loading All senators and members of the House of Representatives are required to list their pecuniary interests in a register. The allowable limit for gifts from another government is $750, and from individuals it is $300. A $600 million jet would appear mighty peculiar in any list of pecuniary interests. Anywhere, really, outside Trump's morally warped Washington.
The Age
22-05-2025
- Politics
- The Age
Trump gets a flying palace. Keating was doomed to a jalopy in the sky
The 707 was Australia's VIP jetliner, but it had seen better days. The little fleet of 707s came from the late 1950s/early '60s era when rock 'n' roll and V8 hot rods ruled and noise pollution wasn't a problem. By the time Keating was PM, the RAAF had to beg permission to land the 707 at many international airports because its two old engines made such a racket, even after they were fitted with exhaust baffles. In 1992, when Keating made an official visit to Tokyo, the Japanese politely explained its international airport, Narita, wasn't suitable. They directed the RAAF to land at Tokyo's domestic airport, which presumably had vintage spanner sets for elderly airframes if the plane broke down. It was humiliating for a prime minister like Keating, whom cartoonists cruelly drew as the modern embodiment of the extravagantly self-absorbed Sun King, France's Louis XIV. I had by then spent happy years flying around the world in the old 707s as part of the press gallery pack. We called it the Zoo Plane. Wine of fine vintage and high jinks of great silliness flowed freely in the media cabin down the back. Until Keating became PM, Bob Hawke smoked cigars and played poker in his suite at the front. It was a most agreeable way to travel the world. But then, in mid-1993, not long after Keating unexpectedly won the federal election against John Hewson, word floated my way through Canberra's rarefied air that the triumphant PM was on the lookout for a new VIP plane. Two, in fact. Quiet conversations confirmed Keating's desire for more-fitting VIP airborne transport, but that his department was on a collision course with the Defence Department, which was worried about the cost. The two planes being considered were Boeing 757s. They weren't flown by any airline in Australia, but they were big and modern and desirable. And expensive. When my story was published in The Sydney Morning Herald, all hell broke loose. The public went into a mild uproar, Keating's Labor colleagues went weak at the knees, and I, as the messenger, got a number of shouty phone calls from offices not too far from the prime minister's own parliamentary suite. Even Keating suddenly found himself unwilling to test the generosity of voters, many of whom were still recovering from what he had called, only three years previously, 'the recession we had to have'. The story killed the planned purchase of new VIP planes stone dead. Keating was still flying around in the ancient 707s three years later when he lost the prime ministership to John Howard. I was not allowed to forget it. Every time I stepped aboard the 707 for a trip overseas, I was reminded by Keating's staff that if the plane fell out of the sky, I was to blame for writing 'that bloody story'. Loading Press gallery colleagues, unhappy at being scooped, took up the sledging with glee. And Keating continued to yearn for a plane more suited to a prime minister of style. In 1995, on a trip to Germany, no sooner had we landed in Bonn than the poor unloved 707 was rolled into a darkened hangar and Keating proceeded to Berlin in a magnificently appointed Airbus lent to him by chancellor Helmut Kohl. Some among the travelling media declared Keating looked green each time he emerged from the Airbus' VIP suite with its gold appointments in the bathroom, its conference room and its super-modern communications. I felt a bit sympathetic. It wasn't unusual for fittings in the ancient 707s to judder loose. I once copped a thump to the head when an internal ceiling panel fell out. Keating was correct. The VIP fleet desperately needed replacements. John Howard eventually got a Boeing Business Jet that was (conveniently) too small to accommodate travelling journalists. The current fleet consists of two Boeing 737s, ordered by Scott Morrison's government and used these days by Anthony Albanese, the governor-general and others. The point, however, was that a prime minister in Australia's political system could not unilaterally choose the style of VIP plane available to him or her. Australia pays for its own perquisites, which are decided by federal departments like Defence and Prime Minister and Cabinet, which have rules and budgets. It is unimaginable that an Australian prime minister would consider accepting a jumbo jet-sized bribe from a foreign country. Loading All senators and members of the House of Representatives are required to list their pecuniary interests in a register. The allowable limit for gifts from another government is $750, and from individuals it is $300. A $600 million jet would appear mighty peculiar in any list of pecuniary interests. Anywhere, really, outside Trump's morally warped Washington.
