A Mayo reflection: Paradise Lost – our children and the unravelling of the world
by Dr. Michael M. O'Connor
We all face moments in life when we quietly step outside ourselves to pose an inner question: What are You Doing? Why Now? Is this Right? Is this Me?
In September 1994, I boarded a bus in eastern Thailand heading for Bangkok Airport and then to London.
My travel companion and I had spent an exhilarating month exploring and partying in Bangkok, visiting major historical sites across Thailand, and socialising with those we met along the way, mostly British and Australian.
I don’t recall a single name, but they feature in my photographs - where are they now? I did not want it to end; I did not want to return to London. I craved more.
My usually cheerful and chatty companion was subdued; she had feasted on cold chicken at a ‘jungle feast’ near the Cambodian border a week earlier and had unwelcome guests on board.
She was oblivious to my rants about staying a bit longer. In a moment of weakness, she had been reckless and was paying the price. We had a tense stopover in Delhi on the way out, and I left Bangkok feeling somewhat anxious about the return journey.
There was an outbreak of bubonic and pneumonic plague in India at the time, but we were still heading home. If cold chicken could do what it did to my companion, what lay ahead?
We had also been reckless in Thailand in other ways - ways I shudder to recall now.
High-speed boat trips on the Chao Phraya river, journeys to the southern islands on unregulated wooden fishing boats with men who spoke no English, and climbing out of moving trains as they passed through jungles, the countryside, and, in one instance, across a viaduct bridge.
So, I did not want to return to work in London, but I did, and, of course, it was the right decision at that time, but there was a BUT. I was restless. I knew what lay beyond, and I craved more of it, and holidays of any length were not enough.
I wanted something immersive. Two years later, my companion and I left London for the Middle East.
There have been many adventures since then.
Reflecting on some of them now, in the context of the terrible and hateful place the world has become, I am drawn to the words of Richard, an obnoxious American backpacker from Alex Garland’s novel ‘The Beach’ (1996) and the later film of the same title starring Leonardo DiCaprio (2000): ‘For mine is a generation that circles the globe and searches for something we haven’t tried before.
So never refuse an invitation, never resist the unfamiliar, never fail to be polite and never outstay the welcome. Just keep your mind open and suck in the experience. And if it hurts, you know what? It’s probably worth it.’
The Beach is set on Maya Bay on the idyllic Ko Phi Phi Leh island in Thailand.
Richard is not a role model for humanity in any era or version of the world, and I suspect that, in the unwritten sequel, when he finally returned home, he became a ruthless merchant banker, a narcissistic corporate lawyer, or an egotistical politician who likely became a corrupt and autocratic president.
Nevertheless, Richard’s commentary on our generation is valid and prompts the question - were we that restless, reckless, and ruthless? I would argue yes for the first two and a qualified yes for the last. We were infected with wanderlust and took chances, but at the end of the day, we had a plan and a compass to guide us.
My fear, after nearly two decades of financial collapses, the Covid-19 pandemic, and endless wars, is that our young people have been deprived of these vital life experiences.
They are not to blame, of course; they are victims of our generation and the one before it. Add this to all the other challenges they face, including housing, the cost of living, and access to healthcare; the outlook seems bleak for them.
Our elected representatives of all colours and none talk about bringing them home, but they never will. Convincing them to return does not feature in departmental budgets in any meaningful way.
One of the wealthiest countries in the world, they tell us! With doors closing internationally and the world on the verge of a recession, they will be stranded and lost to Ireland, like generations of the past.
In the months before the Covid-19 pandemic emerged and lockdowns were imposed, I, along with someone very close to me (the child of my travelling companion from years earlier), meticulously planned a trip to Asia – colonial Shanghai, Korea, and Japan.
The lockdown ended that plan, and we never went, which I regret. Recently, we, together with her sister, took a trip around Morocco, regained some of what we had lost, and, naturally, had a lot of fun.
Covid and lockdown have produced a generation of young people worldwide that are very different to us.
An insidious fear was injected into their fearless minds; lockdown took away opportunities to have experiences in distant places, to form friendships built around those experiences, to enjoy the freedom of being away from home, and, crucially, to ask important questions of themselves.
At home, they missed the rough-and-tumble encounters of university, the transition to the workforce, and life outside the comforts of family settings.
They discovered what imposter syndrome means, and many experienced it. Friendships ended, and opportunities for new ones never materialised. All these vital experiences were replaced by virtual ones that were both figuratively and literally sterile.
Our fears and concerns for our children and ourselves denied them the chance to become well-rounded, resourceful, confident and fearless individuals. They sacrificed their moment so that older generations could be safe.
Three weeks ago, my travelling companion and I journeyed north to Franham Estate Hotel in County Cavan for a night away from the daily hurricanes and driving horizontal rain in Murrisk for her special birthday.
In March 2020, we were both at Farnham for another birthday when lockdown was announced. I will never forget that day, a day to end days or so I believed. Since then, we have greatly reduced our travel.
The outbreak of war in the Middle East and the US aberration (for that’s what it is, one hopes) seem likely to disrupt global travel for the foreseeable future.
Another generation of young people will be deprived of the opportunities we had and of the chance to gain perspective on their place in the world and what it has to offer.
The greed and power-driven wars of bloated middle-aged and elderly men, who, individually, have lived multiple lives, endanger the prospects for stability, peace, prosperity, and the freedom to enjoy the world, all so they can have one final hurrah and leave a poisoned legacy of genocide, economic collapse, and infrastructural wipeout.
For countless others whose names we will never know, their lives have been ended, they have been eradicated, cancelled, obliterated. Living in free Europe, as we do, sandwiched between Insanity and Hate, we must keep reminding ourselves that this will end.
We must fight the hateful right, the new ‘patriots’ and ‘nationalists’, the religious zealots and those who dare to tell us how to live our lives and who we must be and what we must call ourselves.
As for Thailand, we never went back, but in the words of Richard: ‘Trust Me, it’s Paradise.’