FELIX M. LARKIN — Career Details 

Born 7 August 1951 in Dublin, eldest of four children (three sons & one daughter) of Terence A. Larkin (b. 1924) and Eileen J. Larkin, née McGeown (1927-2021).

My family roots are in the province of Ulster. My father was born in Newry, Co. Down, in 1924. All four of my grandparents were also born in Ulster, three in South Armagh and the fourth at Garvagh, Co. Derry. In addition, all but one of my great-grandparents were born in Ulster. The exception was Denis Larkin, my father’s paternal grandfather. However, while born in Co. Louth, he was descended from an old Co. Armagh family and lived for most of his long life in the townland of Faughil Etre, near Jonesborough, Co. Armagh. My mother was born in Glasgow. Her parents, who married in Belfast in 1911, had emigrated to Glasgow in 1913. They returned to Ireland in 1928, when my mother was less than one year old, and settled in Dublin. My parents married in Dublin in 1950. One of my brothers, Fr Arthur Larkin (Dublin diocese), died in 2001.

Educated at St Paul’s College, Raheny, Dublin 5 (1958-68), University College Dublin (1968-72) and the Institute of Public Administration (1972-3).

I am an historian by training – BA (1971) and MA (1972). English was my second subject for the BA.  My main research interest is the history of the press – in particular, the history of the Freeman’s Journal, the prominent Dublin newspaper published 1763-1924. I am also interested in the history of political cartoons – most notably, the cartoons of Ernest Forbes ('Shemus') which appeared in the Freeman's Journal in the years 1920-4. Another area of interest is American history, and in 2019 I donated my considerable collection of books, magazines and other materials about John F. Kennedy and the Kennedy family to the Kennedy Book and Research Archive at New Ross Library. My remarks on the occasion of the formal presentation of the collection to New Ross Library on 5 September 2019 are attached. I regularly review books for the Irish Catholic newspaper, and have also written book reviews for the Irish Times, Studies, Irish Literary Supplement, Irish Arts Review, Saothair: Journal of Irish Labour History, UCD Today, History Ireland and Irish Historical Studies. In September 2021, I published a collection of my occasional writings, Living with History (reviewed by former Taoiseach John Bruton in the Irish Catholic newspaper, 28 October 2021).


Employed in the Irish Department of Finance (1973-91) and the National Treasury Management Agency (1991-2009).

I am very proud to have been a public servant all my working life. For almost eighteen years from 1973 to 1991, I was an official of the Irish Department of Finance where – inevitably, given my training in history! – I became a taxation policy specialist. I was very involved in the late 1980s in the setting up of the International Financial Services Centre in Dublin, which enterprise was largely driven by tax considerations. In 1991, I joined the then newly-established National Treasury Management Agency (NTMA). This is the State body which manages Ireland’s national debt, and I worked there for another eighteen years. I had responsibility for the personal savings component of the national debt, amounting on average to about 15% of the national debt during my time as Head of Retail Debt at the NTMA. I retired (under the Government’s incentivised early retirement scheme) on 30 September 2009 – my retirement speech is attached.

Director of The Prize Bond Company Limited (2000-08).

Member of the Board of Directors (formerly, Trustees) of the Sick and Indigent Roomkeepers Society (2008 to date; Vice Chairman, 2011-12; Chairman, 2012-16; Acting Chairman, 2018).

Member of the Board (formerly, the Council) of the Central Catholic Library, Dublin (2013-16).

Member of An Post's Philatelic Advisory Committee (2015 to date; Chairman, 2016 to date).

Treasurer of the Irish Committee of Historical Sciences (2023 to date).

Member of the statutory Readers Advisory Committee of the National Library of Ireland (2011-15 & 2016-20).

Editorial advisor and external contributor to the Royal Irish Academy’s Dictionary of Irish Biography, published by Cambridge University Press, 2009.

Contributor to each of the three volumes of The Edinburgh History of the British and Irish Press, published by Edinburgh University Press, 2020 & 2023. 

Academic Director of the Parnell Summer School (2013-15):

2013 (Theme: 'Parnell and Kennedy – Lost Leaders'); 
2014 (Theme: 'War and Peace'); and
2015 (Theme: 'The French Connection – Ireland and France').

My introductory comments at each year's Summer School are attached.

Academic Director of the Ivy Day Symposium, Woodenbridge, Co. Wicklow, 2022 (Theme: 'New beginnings').

Member of the Committee of the Parnell Society (2013 to date; Member of the Avondale Trust, 2016-22; Chairman of the Avondale Trust, 2018-22).

Member of:

National Library of Ireland Society (Hon. Treasurer, 2001-07; Vice Chairman, 2007 to date; for further information, see Dónall Ó Luanaigh, Friends of the National Library: forty years of the National Library of Ireland, Dublin, 2010);

Irish Legal History Society (member of Council, 2006 to date; Joint Hon. Treasurer, 2007-12; member of the Publications Committee, 2012 to date; for further information, see Daire Hogan & Colum Kenny, Changes in practice and law: a selection of essays by members of the legal profession to mark twenty-five years of the Irish Legal History Society, Dublin, 2013, p. 159); and

Newspaper and Periodical History Forum of Ireland (founder member; member of the Executive Committee, 2008 to date; Chairman, 2010-13; Treasurer, 2016 to date; for further information, see my 'Farewell Address' as chairman of the NPHFI – attached).

I was elected Fellow of the Royal Historical Society (FRHistS) in July 2022.

I sing in the choir of my local church, St Brigid's in Cabinteely – for me, a source of great pleasure and fulfilment. I also have an association with St Mary's church in Haddington Road, one of the most beautiful in Dublin (especially since its refurbishment a few years ago). I am a member of the Education Ministry Group in St Mary's, which organises a lecture series in the church. In 2010, I travelled to the Holy Land with a group from St. Mary's; my diary of that trip is attached.

Member of the Kildare Street & University Club (since 2000):

Member of the Management Committee (2005-9);

Member of the Library & Archives Committee (2004-15: convenor, 2010-15); and

Member of the Events & Editorial Committee (2005-12; convenor, 2006-9).

At 72 years of age, I rejoice in my continuing bachelorhood and enjoy a healthy and productive retirement devoted mainly to history research and writing, and to serving the various scholarly and other bodies with which I am associated. 

October 2023

Almost a month has now passed since I set off for the Holy Land on pilgrimage with a group from St. Mary’s Church, Haddington Road. It has been a busy time, but I have had a chance to reflect on my trip and to consider what it all meant to me – and, more importantly, what of it will endure in my memory, and why.

I suppose the first point to make is that going to the Holy Land was a piece of unfinished business for me. I had often discussed the possibility of making the trip with my late brother Arthur – but we never did do it, something I have always regretted. So, when the opportunity of going with the St Mary’s group arose, I felt that it was the right thing to do – a sort of rendezvous with destiny.

We set off on Sunday, 5 September – travelling through Frankfurt to Tel Aviv and then a bus journey up to Tiberias on the Sea of Galilee. Arriving in our hotel in Tiberias at 6.30 am on 6 September, everyone needed time to rest before embarking on our programme. An early breakfast in a chaotic dining room, and then to bed for a few hours.

6 SEPTEMBER

Despite our late start, we managed to complete our programme for today – and it was a wonderful introduction, visiting several holy places around the north-west shore of the Sea of Galilee and ending up with a memorable boat trip across the Sea of Galilee.

1.       Tabgha, Church of the Loaves and Fishes: Beautiful mosaics, with exposed rock under the altar (the presumed site of the miracle).

2.       Church of the Primacy of Peter: Beautifully situated on the lakeside, again with exposed rock in the church (“on this rock I will build my Church”). We had Mass in the open air, in an amphitheatre facing out over the lake – a very special experience, with (for me) a strong sense of how extraordinary it was to be part of something that began here two thousand years ago. The fact that the area around the Sea of Galilee, then and now, is a rural backwater makes it all the more extraordinary.

3.       Capernaum, which was Jesus’ base for most of his public life, after he was thrown out of Nazareth (since a “prophet is not recognised in his own country”): Wonderful archaeology, with extensive remains of dwellings and the synagogue. There’s a beautiful modern church built over the remains of what is thought to be St Peter’s house, with lovely wood carvings (including one of the curing of the man lowered down though the roof of the synagogue in Capernaum). 

4.       Mount of the Beatitudes: Overlooking the Sea of Galilee, with a modern church set in lavish gardens – a stunningly beautiful location. Our chaplain, Fr Paul, asked me to read the Beatitudes from St Matthew’s gospel to our group – which I did from the steps of the church. It was a very moving moment for me: to re-enact this event in that location made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck (to use a much-abused cliché, but there’s no other way of describing it). It is a moment I will certainly remember.

5.       Boat ride on the Sea of Galilee:  A great way to end the day, with again a great sense of timelessness as the modern buildings receded as the boat progressed into the centre of the lake and we were left with the surrounding hills very much as they would have been two thousand years ago. The boatmen began the trip by playing the Irish national anthem, which was a nice touch. Of course, there were some jokes about who was going to walk on water – but in the middle of the lake, the boat stopped and Fr Paul read the appropriate passage from scripture. It was a lovely evening, with the sun just beginning to fade – fantastic experience.

7 SEPTEMBER

Early start from our hotel for Mount Tabor, by tradition the site of the Transfiguration.

6.       Mount Tabor: We had Mass, again in the open air – after a hazardous taxi ride up the mountain (the road is too narrow for a coach, so there is a taxi service up the steep road with innumerable hair-pin bends). The church on Mount Tabor mirrors the three booths which the Gospel story has Peter proposing to build for Jesus, Moses and Elijah. Lots of standing around afterwards waiting for the taxis to bring us back down the mountain!

7.       Cana, scene of the marriage feast at which Jesus turned water into wine (there is a church on the reputed site of the feast): All the couples in our group renewed their marriage vows at a ceremony in the church, despite speculation on my part about which of them mightn’t wish to do so. Afterwards, we walked down to the church dedicated to Nathaniel who, when told of Jesus, said that nothing good could ever came out of Nazareth – I like that example of unabashed prejudice, and nominate him as the patron saint of curmudgeons.

8.       Nazareth: A large, busy Arab city. At the Church of the Annunciation, we said the Angelus in the courtyard outside – adorned with mosaics depicting Our Lady from various countries, including one from Ireland which is similar to, though not actually the same as, the standard image of Our Lady of Knock (the supporting figures are different). The lower level of the church encloses what is claimed to be the House of Mary, the scene of the Annunciation. In a separate church on the upper level, there are more mosaics from all over the world – a bit over-rich in decoration for my taste. Afterwards, we visited St Joseph’s Church – and saw the tree that Pope Paul VI planted on his visit to the Holy Land. As we left the Church of the Annunciation, we heard a Muslim call to prayer sound out over the city – and, driving through the city, I spotted a shop advertising a “Ramadan Sale” (giving me a new angle on the concepts of “profit” and “prophet” – sorry, very bad pun!).

8 SEPTEMBER

Left Tiberius, and drove down to Jerusalem in our coach (keeping close to the west bank of the Jordan river. with the wire fence between Israel and Jordan clearly visible for part of the journey).

9.       Jordan river: We stopped at a baptism point just south of the Sea of Galilee, not actually the site of the baptism of Jesus but a recognised spot for baptism by full immersion. I paddled in the water, which we were told is heavily polluted. But there were people there in white robes who were undergoing the full immersion. It’s a very lush, green area – most unusual for the Holy Land, and quite a contrast to the parched land around the Sea of Galilee. Later on, near Jerico (which we didn’t visit), we read the parable of the Good Samaritan.

Interlude: I had a brief camel ride – this happened in a car park during a pit stop at a roadside cafe. One is certainly riding high when the camel rises to full height, and he walks with a very stately gait. The moment when I was most in danger of falling off was when he was lowering himself down at the end of the ride.

10.   Wailing Wall: This was our first stop in Jerusalem – and it is, I suppose, one of the iconic places in the world. We all know it from photographs etc. Amazing to be there in person. Security is heavy around it. As I went up to the wall, two men in black approached me and prayed over me – an unexpected gesture, slightly spoiled for me when they then asked for money for a charity. I joined the crowd at the wall, and dropped my note of petition into a crevice in the wall as is the custom in this place.

11.   Church of Dominus Flevit, on the Mount of Olives where Jesus wept over Jerusalem: Wonderful view over the city of Jerusalem, dominated by the magisterial Dome of the Rock. We had Mass there, and I prayed for my late brother Arthur during the prayers of the faithful at Mass.

12.   Gethsemane: After Mass, we walked down to the Garden of Gethsemane and the Church of All Nations built over the rock where Jesus is said to have prayed. Ireland is represented in the church by a mosaic showing the word “Éire” with a shamrock.

9 SEPTEMBER

From our hotel in the suburbs of Jerusalem, we headed back to the Mount of Olives to visit the Mosque of the Ascension and the Pater Noster Church. It was the feast day of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. This was a particularly full day for us, and a sombre afternoon – but an amazing day which certainly made a deep impression on me.

13.   Mosque of the Ascension: Previously the site of a Christian church whose centre was open to the sky (for obvious reasons!). A rock within is venerated as the rock from which Jesus ascended into heaven. We then walked a little distance to the Pater Noster Church – probably my favourite of all the churches we visited – believed to be the place where Jesus taught the disciples the Lord’s Prayer. The text of the Lord’s Prayer in many languages is on tiles all round the forecourt of the church. Our group said the Lord’s Prayer in the Irish language, and our guide, Arlette, recited it in Arabic.

14.   Lions’ Gate (also known as St Stephen’s Gate): We walked into Jerusalem through this gate, the gate through which Jesus went on Palm Sunday.

15.   Birthplace of Mary: We had Mass in the White Fathers’ house adjacent to the Church of St Anne, just inside the Lions’ Gate. The Church of St Anne is famous for its acoustics, and when a few of us were there a young girl came in and began singing a particularly lively “alleluia” and her voice echoed round and round the church for minutes afterwards – an eerie phenomenon, but it was a privilege to have heard it. We tried to reproduce it ourselves by singing “Hail Queen of Heaven”, but failed to achieve the extended echo of that young girl’s singing. Behind the church are the Baths of Bethesda where Jesus healed the cripple: there are extensive archaeological remains there.

16.   Church of St Peter in Gallicantu: The site of the high priest’s house where Peter denied Jesus thrice. Below the church is a prison and dungeons – a grim place, indeed – and one of our group sang “Were you there when they crucified my lord” when we were all assembled in one of the dungeons. Alongside the church are Roman steps down which Jesus would have walked to go to the Garden of Gethsemane and up which he would have been taken after he had been seized in Gethsemane.

17.   Via Dolorosa: We walked the route, beginning at the Church of the Condemnation (where a gaming board had been carved into the stone floor, dating from Roman times – soldiers’ recreation!). The route is narrow and confined, a trading area with small shops opening onto the street. The stations are marked with metal tablets on the wall at the appropriate places. When you reach the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the first thing you see is a marble slab which is venerated as the slab on which Jesus’ body was washed after his death; then you queue to enter the tomb in a “church within a church”; finally, you climb up steep steps to Golgotha (also within the Church of the Holy Sepulchre) where there is a hole in exposed rock for anchoring an upright cross. The Church of the Holy Sepulchre is shared by various traditions, but its style is Orthodox – and so I didn’t find it easy to relate to it. Nevertheless, there was, for me, an acute awareness that we were in a place that was central to what we believe. Fr Paul read from The Passion in St Mark’s Gospel.

10 SEPTEMBER

Today we went to Bethlehem, our only excursion into the Palestinian Territories – curiously a different time zone from Israel. Bethlehem is surrounded by a high security wall, as bleak as the Berlin Wall; and we had to disembark from our coach, walk through the checkpoint and take another coach on the other side of the wall. Security on the way out was very strict, and we witnessed the Israeli soldiers being utterly obnoxious to two young Muslim girls who were crossing into Israel at the same time as ourselves – I suspected the soldiers behaved as they did towards them precisely because they had an audience for this exercise of their power over the Palestinians.

18.   Church of the Nativity: Again, the style is Orthodox, though there is a modern Latin Rite church adjoining the Church of the Nativity. We had our Mass in a side chapel in the Latin Rite church, and – a nice touch – Fr Paul invited us to remember in our Mass all those with whom we have shared past Christmases. You enter the church from Manger Square through a low door, and there is a long queue to visit the birthplace below the High Altar surrounded by a star. This is a place that we have so often seen pictures of – incredible to be there. Under the Church, there are beautifully decorated caves – including the grotto of St Jerome.

19.   Shepherd’s Fields: On the outskirts of Bethlehem, a beautiful setting – with a church where, while we were there, a Polish choir came in and they sang most powerfully (no idea what they were singing, but the sound was great!). Outside, a lovely, modern fountain features an image of a shepherd wistfully looking towards the town of Bethlehem.

Another interlude: Shopping that afternoon in Bethlehem. 

11 SEPTEMBER

This was our least “religious” day, with an outing to the Dead Sea. I had been greatly looking forward to this part of the trip as I have a vivid memory of being told when very young in school about the Dead Sea – so far below sea level, and its high density due to salt content making it easy to float in. The idea had caught my imagination and has stayed with me over the intervening years.

20.   Qumran: First, however, we visited the archaeological site at Qumran. We walked out over the remains of the village that housed the religious community – a fundamentalist Jewish sect – that is thought to have generated the Dead Sea scrolls, which were found in caves in the nearby mountains. We looked over a valley at the famous Cave 4 where the most important of the scrolls were found. One of the scrolls was on display in the museum on the site – text written on dried animal skins with sharpened reed pens and ink made with animal blood. Unbelievable to think of it being over two thousand years old. Equally awesome was the landscape around Qumran: utterly barren and utterly silent except for the cars on the roadway in the distance. One feels very small in that universe. The only place in the world where I have felt similarly overwhelmed by my surroundings is the Grand Canyon. Qumran is comparable in its majesty.

21.   Dead Sea: On to the Dead Sea, for my much anticipated swim! I did not find it a pleasant experience. The water is murky with the salt, and looks like dirty bath water. It is so salty you must avoid getting it into your eyes – and avoid swallowing it. You do, indeed, float easily, but it is then quite difficult to get upright again – partly because of one’s buoyancy in the salt water, but also because of the mud on the lake’s bed. You can sink into the mud in places up to your ankles – very disconcerting. The mud is alleged to be rich in minerals, and you see people smearing it all over their body. That I didn’t do. I hated it all so much I couldn’t get out fast enough – but I’m delighted to have done it. Of course, it was very hot there and the sand would burn the soles of your feet if you didn’t wear sandals or flip-flops down to the water’s edge. The water itself was unpleasantly lukewarm. Give me the clean, cold, refreshing Atlantic Ocean to swim in instead! I afterwards read that Sodom and Gomorrah are supposed to have been buried below the Dead Sea, and this explains the lake’s filthy aspect.

That evening: We had Mass back in our hotel when we returned from the Dead Sea.

12 SEPTEMBER

Our final day in Jerusalem, first visiting Mount Zion and then out into the Judean hills. At this stage the trip was beginning to take its toll – I was feeling pretty exhausted, and was suffering a bit from “sight-seeing fatigue”. Glad I had kept notes of the trip, as it was now hard to recall everything – we had seen so much.

22.   Domition Church, on Mount Zion: Dedicated to the Assumption of Our Lady (where the legend is that Mary fell into an eternal sleep and was brought up to heaven). There is a larger than life-size carving of the sleeping Mary on a tomb in the crypt.

23.   Upper Room: scene of the Last Supper and Pentecost.

24.   King David’s Tomb: A Jewish shrine; and outside Fr Paul read the genealogy of Jesus from St Matthew’s Gospel, showing his descent from King David.

25.   Jewish Quarter of Jerusalem: Entering through Zion Gate (incidentally, pockmarked with bullets from the 1967 war), we strolled down through the central shopping area, known as “Cardo”, and admired the fashionable boutique shops.

26.   Ein Karem: After lunch, we travelled out of the city into Judea to Ein Karem, the birthplace of John the Baptist. It is a mountainous area – quite spectacularly beautiful in the Western European style. The actual place of birth is venerated within a church dedicated to John the Baptist, and we had Mass in that church – the only Mass we had anywhere on the main altar of a large church during our trip. In the courtyard outside, inscribed on tiles in various languages is the prayer of John the Baptist’s father from St Luke’s Gospel, and we recited that. Then a steep climb up a hill to visit another two churches, one on top of the other. The lower one is the Church of the Visitation, commemorating Mary’s visit to her cousin Elizabeth, the mother of John the Baptist; on top is a rather dramatic church celebrating the presence of Our Lady in the world and throughout history. In the top chapel, we read the Gospel account of the Visitation story, and sang “The Bells of the Angelus”.

13 SEPTEMBER

Back to Tel Aviv airport, where there was a strike – which meant that our flight was delayed, which meant that we missed our connection in Frankfurt and so arrived home a day late (having overnighted very comfortably in the Sheraton Hotel at Frankfurt airport – bravo Lufthansa, with whom we travelled). Security at Tel Aviv airport was horrendous, and there was a further problem as an Israeli Arab got caught up in security and his late arrival on board the plane caused an additional delay (he was actually sitting beside me on the flight, and he was very upset about his treatment – a nice man, a professor of information technology who was travelling to a conference in Frankfurt about the digitization of ancient manuscripts).

TO SUM UP, A FEW THOUGHTS:

My first thought is that our continued devotion to Jesus Christ – a figure from an obscure corner of the Roman Empire two thousand years ago – is, in purely human terms, really quite remarkable. The fact that other great world religions also have an ancient provenance does not diminish this extraordinary phenomenon.

Nevertheless, I must confess that, wearing my historian’s hat, I have my doubts about the historicity of some of the places we visited: what’s the evidence for the claims being made that these are the sites of various events associated with the life of Jesus? On reflection, I am happy to disregard such doubts. Having grown up in the religious tradition that I adhere to, it was genuinely enriching to see for myself the general environment out of which that tradition grew. Even if all the claims made for the places we visited do not stand up to rigorous scrutiny, we can say that the actual sites would have been similar – and so the sense that we gained of the historical context of the Gospels is undoubtedly valid. 

Moreover, the persistence of belief in the authenticity of the actual sites we visited – even if not justified – is in itself a significant historical fact, especially so in the absence of definitive evidence to support the claims that are made. In this regard, I was reminded again and again during our trip of these words of the poet T.S. Eliot, from his Four Quartets:

        You are not here to verify,

Instruct yourself, or inform curiosity

Or carry report. You are here to kneel

Where prayer has been valid. 

FELIX M LARKIN

5 October 2010

Thank you. Listening to all the fine things that have been said about me, I began to feel that this is not so much an early retirement as an early release for good behaviour – but then nobody has ever accused me before of good behaviour. 

Let me say straightaway that saying goodbye is a lot more difficult than I had thought it was going to be. I have spent 36 years in the Irish public service – mostly good years, split almost exactly half and half between the Department of Finance and the National Treasury Management Agency. I have always been proud to be a public servant. Born in 1951, I grew up in the idealistic 1960s and went to UCD in that significant year for all students everywhere, 1968 – and I have largely retained the values that I imbibed in those heady times. It is vital later on in life, when things become more complex and confused, to remember what was your initial inspiration – and mine was the rhetoric of John F. Kennedy and his brothers, perhaps best summed up by those famous words: “Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.”

I have accordingly always regarded public service as a noble calling. I have never been employed other than in the public service, and have never wanted to be employed anywhere else. The alternative never appealed – for, as Dr. Johnson wrote in 1775:

A merchant’s desire is not of glory, but of gain; not of public wealth, but of private emolument; he is, therefore, rarely to be consulted about war and peace, or any design of wide extent and distant consequence.

These words express eloquently why I am happy to have spent my working life in the public service, and it goes without saying that recent events in this country bear sad witness to their essential truth.

That said, it must be acknowledged that the NTMA has been an interesting, indeed unique, exercise in attempting to unite public service ethos and standards with the best specialist technical and managerial expertise in the private sector – expertise which the public service was simply unable to pay for, notwithstanding the rather facile arguments which we now hear about the public service being overpaid. To adapt another quotation from Dr. Johnson, what is remarkable about the NTMA is not that it was done so well, but that it was done at all. I was very honoured to be recruited from the Department of Finance as one of the foundation staff of the Agency. Michael Somers has often claimed that he took the best and the brightest with him from the Department, and who am I to disagree with him?

My current director, Oliver Whelan, was another Finance man who came over to the Agency on its establishment – and I can testify that he is genuinely the best and the brightest, easily the most intelligent person I have ever worked for and a most courteous and kind boss. It has been a pleasure working with Oliver over the past five years. In thanking him, I would also like to thank those who have had the misfortune to work for me in the Agency – in chronological order: Carmel Rochford, Ciaran Rogers, Brigid Greene, Aoibheann O’Sullivan and Dymphna McHugh. I had great times with each of them, and remember them all today with much affection. I remember too my good friend, Fionán Coleman – who, like Oliver and myself, left the Department of Finance in 1991 to join the Agency, but sadly died in the year 2000 at an appallingly early age.   

The NTMA is, after nearly 20 years in existence, justly renowned for its achievements and its contribution to the economic success story that was the Irish experience at least until very recently. In my own particular area, Irish government retail debt has grown by a factor of 3 since 1991 and we have grown the share of the National Debt raised from the retail sector from about 10% to a peak of 18% in 2006. There have been a few milestones along the way – including a successful High Court action against the then Irish Permanent Building Society in 1994 – and in 2007, I was asked to chair the first World Bank symposium on government retail debt, held in Washington DC. That was certainly the high point of my career – but I recognise that it was a tribute not only to me personally but also to the NTMA and to Ireland generally. We are held in high esteem in international financial circles, and there is enormous goodwill towards us – which, of course, helps us in our present difficulties. Building that goodwill has been an important part of the NTMA’s achievement, and I take considerable satisfaction in having been part of it.

For me, however, all that is now at an end – and I move on, with great expectations, into the next phase of my life. As many of you will know, I have had a serious interest in history all my life. I hope to pursue that interest in the coming years, and am conscious that I must not squander the opportunity that I have been given to write something worthwhile before my mental faculties begin to fade. Paradoxically, the past is my future; my future is the past.

In this moment of change, I am conscious of a strange coincidence – something which gives my career a curious symmetry. Later on this year, I will publish a little book of political cartoons by an artist whose penname was Shemus and whose work appeared in the old Freeman’s Journal newspaper between 1920 and 1924, a particularly turbulent period in Irish history. He was the Martyn Turner of his day. I hope you will all buy a few copies, for yourselves and as Christmas presents for your friends – this poor pensioner needs the royalties. In any event, the coincidence is that the Shemus cartoons were, I believe, largely responsible for the fact that I was offered a job in the public service some 36 years ago. The chairman of the interview board that vetted me was a former Secretary of the old Department of Posts and Telegraphs, Dr. Leon Ó Broin – also a very eminent historian. I had just finished an MA thesis on the later history of the Freeman’s Journal, and Dr. Ó Broin focused in on this and asked me about the Shemus cartoons. We discussed the cartoons for a considerable time during the interview – to the evident annoyance of the other members of the board. I didn’t know as much about the cartoons then as I now know – but I knew enough to satisfy Dr. Ó Broin’s curiosity, and I got the job. That explains how such an obviously unsuitable candidate as myself got into the Irish public service.

And now, 36 years later, I depart. It is a sobering, life-changing moment – and there are few of those in a lifetime. My feelings are, however, well reflected in a little poem by Brendan Kennelly in his latest collection – published earlier this year – and I would like to conclude by sharing it with you:

So much has happened in my bit

of time I’d need a century at least

to write it down. I have to go now.

Nice to see you. My successor is here.

Time to vanish. I don’t dare give advice

to anyone. I only know that most

of what is said and done is forgotten.

Just as well perhaps.

                                              I’m gone.