IS there anything quite as depressing as seeing a group of people in a restaurant or other social situation with their heads buried in their smartphones? We’ve all seen groups of youngsters doing it, almost to the point of looking comical, but the older generations aren’t much better, in my experience.
So I was encouraged when I saw Stephen Donnelly calling for a mobile phone ban in schools during the week. There is mounting evidence that phones are absolutely destroying the mental health of many young people and anyone with kids knows how difficult the battle is over devices and screen time from an increasingly early age. It is the single most difficult thing I have had to figure out as a parent, and I honestly still don’t know what the answer is.
The message seems to be that the state isn’t in a position to ban them entirely, but can help empower parental groups and schools to put in place a voluntary system or a ‘no smart device voluntary code’.
This has happened in my kids’ school here in Dublin where a parental pact is in place to keep phones out of school at least until after sixth class. It is also becoming more widespread in West Cork, in schools like St Patrick’s NS in Skibbereen. Mount St Michael secondary school in Rosscarbery doesn’t allow them for incoming first years either, and encourages debate and discussion between parents and students before their introduction. This is the sort of mature, open community dialogue that is needed.
I’m no Luddite and it would be impossible for me to do the work I do without digital technology. Thanks to companies like Google and Adobe, in this past week I’ve worked with animators in Bristol, composers in Los Angeles and salespeople in Paris on one project. This would have been impossible to do so efficiently and seamlessly, even 20 years ago. So we don’t have to throw the baby out with the bathwater here by becoming too extreme in either direction.
But it’s also important that we protect kids for as long as we can and educate them for when they inevitably start to use phones. And we can all show some example too by maybe not being stuck on our own screens half the time.
School’s in, sun’s out
I SAID it on these pages only a few weeks ago. Wait for the school gates to open and, mark my words, the sun will appear in the sky like a long-lost friend beaming down on the empty beaches.
And there she is, shining sarcastically from her perch 150 million kilometres away, as we trundle towards the school gates in the morning.
It’s hardly the stuff of Nostradamus, I admit. This is the way things have gone for the last few years, so it comes as no surprise really.
We’ve even taken to reserving a family camping trip in Wicklow every September to soak up the last rays of the Indian summer. We’re off again this weekend and Dublin is only a short drive away if the elements turn against us. Heaven forbid we end up in a Burning Man situation.
Nevada soaks Laois sizzles
YES, there was a bit of a washout at Burning Man, the annual ‘ephemeral city’ that attracts thousands of free-spirits in the Nevada desert. Over 70,000 people were stranded at the event when Black Rock Desert received over two months of rain in just 24 hours. And you thought July in West Cork was bad!
The organisers have built the event around a theme of self-reliance and attendees are advised on its website that ‘ultimately the responsibility for your personal health and safety falls to you.’ If social media was anything to go by, a lot of the revellers got really stuck into dealing with their new muddy reality. Be careful what you wish for, like.
One punter walked 10 miles to get out of the site, crossing knee-high waters in platform boots and still reported she ‘almost had Fomo [fear of missing out] leaving’. There was even talk of ‘poop buckets’ all over news outlets.
It’s amazing what we modern Westerners will do in the name of keeping it real and returning to some version of nature, isn’t it?
At home in Ireland, the Electric Picnic was much more like California by all accounts, with the sun splitting the stones for a host of acts including Billie Eilish, Niall Horan, Rick Astley and, eh, The Wolfe Tones.
Yes, it seems the youngsters love nothing more than shouting ‘Up The Ra’ at the top of their lungs and were in queues ten deep to get into the tent to see the infamous rebel singers.
Each to their own, I suppose.
A lesson in NI history
I WONDER if many of them had seen Once Upon a Time in Northern Ireland, the BBC series on The Troubles? It was one of the most stunning and affecting documentary series I’ve seen in a long time, a searing and affecting look at The Troubles through the eyes of a number of people who lived through it, from all sides of the conflict, all with unique, valid and fascinating perspectives.
The story that will stay with me is the one that closed out the series.
Richard Moore was blinded by a rubber bullet as a child at the height of the conflict when a British soldier shot him. He never let bitterness overwhelm him and sought out Charles Inness, the Royal Artillery captain who was responsible for shooting him. At first, he was hopeful for an apology, or some sort of Hollywood-style ending, but the soldier couldn’t apologise because he believed he was carrying out his duties in the course of a conflict and did not want to admit guilt.
What happened next was the most beautiful thing.
Moore learned to accept that this was Inness’ position, that the only way forward was to come together, and they both developed a firm friendship that lasts to this day. Now that’s what I call hope.
One to watch yourself. And maybe get the twenty and thirtysomethings in your house to watch it too.
