'They talk to us like we are simpletons. Maybe we are'

Cavanman's Diary

A year and four months have passed since the day I caught a few seconds of Liveline on RTE Radio 1 and Joe Duffy came out with something that almost put me over the ditch.

Now, Liveline is a show I very rarely listen to – never, in fact, if I can help it. I find it completely unbearable, a succession of attention and offence-seekers, shrill and permanently outraged with nothing else to be at (unlike this columnist, of course!).

Throw into the mix the host’s patronising tone and there really is no show like a Joe show. Thankfully.

Anyway, on this particular day in April, 2021, I happened to catch a few seconds of it. I was driving, flicking between channels, when Joe invaded my ear drums.

Duffy was finishing one segment and was encouraging more of his prime target market – the busybodies and the bewildered – to ring in.

“Get in contact with us, wash your hands, at 1850 715 815,” he reeled off.

For a moment, I thought there had been some sort of interference on the frequency but no, it turns out he had really said this – and on further inquiry, I discovered it was something he said quite a bit. An intelligent adult would surely deduce that repeating a statement ad nauseum would result in its losing its impact but, of course, this wasn’t about getting people to actually wash their hands. It was about being seen to tell people to do it.

It’s always been there, this desire to project a certain image, be it in terms of piety or what have you, but I think in the age of social media, it has been amplified.

Social media, though, is not real. Life is not played out in 180-character, succinctly-scripted acts, designed usually to project a flattering image of the poster, an image which likely bears little resemblance to the actual reality. Who would take any notice of this stuff?

Unfortunately, a lot of people do. Society has dumbed down. Our concentration spans have shortened and many people’s reading has been distilled down to facile hashtags and emojis.

Messaging from on high reflects this; they talk to us like we are simpletons. Maybe we are.

For the last couple of years, for example, we were told incessantly to “stay safe”, a phrase so inane as to be insulting. Yet, it was rabbited relentlessly, to what end, who knows. Some wanted to cast themselves in a good light; others just repeated it because they heard everyone else saying it.

Think again, now, of Joe Duffy, that highly-renumerated on-air ally of the downtrodden, and his nursery rhyme about washing your hands. Have you spotted a pattern?

We are spoken to, and thought of, as something akin to toddlers. Don’t believe me? Look at how the weather, the single biggest topic of conversation in the country, gets reported nowadays. This is particularly relevant given the unusually warm temperatures we have enjoyed in the last couple of weeks.

There is now no weather event of any kind that won’t be reported as a potential doomsday scenario. On Sunday morning, in the very same article, Independent.ie noted that measures had been put in place to “keep water flowing” in taps and also that widespread rainstorms and potential flooding were on the way. Which was it, were we to parch with thirst or drown? In the hysteria, did it really matter?

It has been noticeable of late, too, how weather records get “smashed”, not broken, how the 30-degree mark is “breached”, like a perilous raid on a bank vault, and not topped or surpassed. Even the little digital graphics on the TV, which used to show cartoonish suns are now replaced by scary-looking heat maps, fiery red the dominant colour.

We are told to look out for old people, most of whom have more sense than the young anyway. We are warned to protect our pets, as if any responsible person would mistreat an animal – and anyone who would is not going to be deterred by some corny slogan on the internet or TV.

The lingo employed in relation to the weather has become nigh on militaristic. Simultaneously on Sunday, there were Status Orange Thunderstorm, Status Yellow High Temperature and Staus Orange Forest Fire warnings in place. The media laps this up, as do the politicians; who can forget the Taoiseach standing flanked by high-ranking gardaí and army officers while addressing the nation ahead of some high winds a few years ago, in a display of pageantry equal part preposterous and hilarious.

Each storm now has a name, which makes things handier for headline writers. The country finds itself whipped into a frenzy each winter – witness the ludicrous run on bread a few years back – as we batten down the hatches and shut the schools each time there is a heavy fall of snow or a gusty night.

All the while, those in charge will tell us to be careful, to exercise caution. To desist, say, from going trampolining on top of Carrauntoohil.

The trend of ‘talking down’ was greatly exacerbated during the pandemic. Last summer, during the heatwave, an article in the Irish Times began with the following: “The State’s chief medical officer Tony Holohan said people should get outdoors this week to reduce exposure to Covid-19, but also to enjoy the weather.

“However, he warned it was ‘important to do so in as safe a way as possible’.”

Dr Holohan went on to advise people – I’m not making this up – to wear sunscreen, not to wear tight-fitting clothing and, most groundbreaking of all, keep cool and hydrated.

Fast forward 12 months and in the Irish Examiner last week, it was advised: “People should contact their GP or the hospital emergency department if they are unwell and especially if they are showing signs of serious dehydration that needs urgent care, the HSE said.”

There you have it – The Adults have spoken. You might want to cut out the following lines and stick them on your fridge (careful with the scissors): If you need urgent medical care, call a doctor.

If you’re too hot, have a drink of water. If you’re too cold, put on a coat.

But for God’s sake, stay safe.