I have spent so much time in them that I began to think my name was either 'the accused' or 'the defendant.'. Impersonal, formal and rushed places, business moves at the frenzied pace of a New York moment.
It was a beautiful sunny day when I accompanied Drogheda Stands With Palestine activist Siobhan to Dundalk court. It was the second time in a matter of months that we had made the short train journey to the town. She had been summonsed because she had refused to pay her licence fee. For her it was a matter of conscientious objection towards paying anything to RTE whose coverage of the Israeli genocide in Gaza, she felt, fell far short of what a national television station should be serving to the society that finances it. Her view was simple: how can citizens be well-informed if RTE does not inform them?
The court building felt like a furnace on a sweltering hot Tuesday morning. Not enough seats for the people gathered we stood in the hallway awaiting the court to start while people fanned themselves down with legal papers and summonses, as legal eagles crisscrossed the building seeking out their clients and talking with their opposite numbers. At times a prisoner handcuffed to a guard would walk across the room, the cuffs guaranteeing him attention whether he wanted it or not. I made a point of following the eyes as they followed him. Having been in handcuffs hundreds of times, most of them for court appearances, it felt better to be brought to court by Siobhan who didn't need cuffs to get me there.
Last time up the case was adjourned. The An Post official we met in one of the court building's consultation rooms said at the time he would like to give her more time to pay the licence. Something she had not requested. On this occasion when we entered the room he fully expected Siobhan to have paid, leading to him being able to withdraw the case. She explained she hadn't paid and would not be paying due to the coverage of the Israeli genocide. He informed her that the case would have to proceed and that he could not enter into further conversation with her as it could be prejudicial to the outcome. He was formal but courteous.
I asked Siobhan if she was concerned about getting a record if convicted. No was her brief reply. She was good to go. We bantered about here going to jail as the Termonabbey One. Not that we had any concerns about that. The judge would have to fine her first and when she refused to pay that then the possibility of jail might loom down the line.
Inside the courtroom the judge was moving through cases at lightening speed and giving short shift to those who were not moving as quickly as she felt the imperatives of a busy court schedule required. As we awaited our turn, we watched other cases. In one, a black Garda was giving evidence. I didn't envy him, thinking he must get more abuse than most gardai given the racism that on some occasions has taken to the streets of Dundalk. It brought to mind an incident from Drogheda where a young ban garda of a colour other than white left the force after being threatened and abused by a drunken racist thug. A single black Garda contributes more to the society we live in than a regiment of racist hate vendors.
When Siobhan was called I walked up to stand behind her as she made her case, honoured to be with her as a colleague from Drogheda Stands With Palestine. We had stood together in West Street weekly vigil for almost three years and our court outing was hardly breaking our stride. It was the same journey, standing for the same thing. Most important of all, Siobhan could have restricted her evidence to simply stating that she did not have a TV, and was not in possession of one at the time of the TV licence inspector's visit. That was enough to win her an acquittal. She didn't take the easy way out, but instead made what for her was the foremost point, that she would not be paying RTE anything because of her conscientious objection to its coverage of Gaza. The judge noted it and then moved to strike out the case.
We emerged from the courtroom to a North Louth sun to make our way back on the only good thing ever to come out of Dundalk - the train to Drogheda!!
Siobhan's act of civil disobedience could have cost her. But consequences did not dissuade her from pursuing what she believed to be the proper course of action. Contrast her stand with that of the FAI or the Dublin government and their role in legitimising the rogue state of Israel. Wolfe Tone's people of no property or no power are willing to do the right thing when those who have both property and power use every evasive tactic in the book to dilute, defer, derail doing the right thing, and then deny having done anything wrong.
In the overall scheme of things actions like Siobhan's can appear small particularly when considered against soccer internationals or the Occupied Territories Bill. Yet their significance lies in the message they transmit: that individuals prepared to be disobedient, in a way that their governments and sporting authorities are not, is the grit that sticks in the wheels of the genocidal juggernaut. Siobhan's action was much more than a refusal to pay a TV licence. It was a statement that Irish society should not be complicit at any level in giving Israel a licence to kill. No matter how small it might seem or as torturously slow as progress appears, it is actions such as this which help build the momentum towards a situation once summed up by VI Lenin: There Are Decades Where Nothing Happens and Weeks Where Decades Happen.
Nothing will happen if citizens like ourselves, through actions, big and small, don't make them happen.































