For the first time in my life, and I hope the last, I feel the words of Ian Paisley best express my innermost thoughts: “Never, never, never … never!” Never will I be on board with library desk monitors.
The main cause for concern here is the word “monitor”. It’s insulting, and it’s a little eerie. I don’t think those in favour of these “monitors” have really considered the proposed reality. Not even in the most hellish of workplaces are employees monitored 24/7. There are managers and supervisors who check in, delegate and assist, but designated time management watchdogs? I don’t know of a single company or firm that employs such a person. It’s considered bad practice to micro-manage.
More importantly, we’re not employees. Not just yet, anyway. In the words of Trinity’s inimitable assistant junior dean, Joseph O’Gorman, filmed as part of RTÉ’s Inside Trinity a number of years ago, university should be “a respite between the rat race that secondary school has become and the rat race that the world is becoming”. Could you really argue with such a stylish man? Such beautifully framed spectacles, dear reader. Surely not.
The introduction of desk monitors would be as out of place in our libraries as clock-in systems. And it will destroy library culture. Some of the most beneficial hours I’ve spent in the library were those spent lolling on the purple couches between the Berkeley and the Ussher. Not only were these enjoyable from a social perspective, but from the perspective of study too. I’ve had blazing arguments on those couches about phenomenology, consent and other issues such as these. I’ve reinforced my arguments on occasion, and changed my stance entirely on others. The introduction of desk monitors would not allow for this. It propagates a “get in and get out” mentality. No slightly indulgent chats, no socialising, no debating. Go be a busy little bee.
The introduction of desk monitors would be as out of place in our libraries as clock-in systems. And it will destroy library culture
I adore the library, particularly the Ussher. I like that it’s a little dark. Reality can be suspended in perpetually dark spaces. Only in a space where reality has been suspended could someone post the words: “Violets are red, your eyes are blue, I would very much like to be inside you, Horny and Corny CS boy Xxx” on a public forum and think it’s in any way acceptable. The desk lamps positioned just above eye level allow for furtive, flirtatious glances, perhaps the seductively quaint passing of a note. It is a magical and sacred place. You don’t time bathroom breaks in magical, sacred places. And, if you know there’s an intimidating postgraduate watching over your shoulder, and the insidious “get in and get out” emphasis on productivity is seeping into your brain, you might not post your cyber serenades on Trinder. Please, let’s not cancel Trinder.
Now, I know there are folk reading this and thinking, “couldn’t give less of a flying fig roll, I want a seat in the library and it’s mobbed”. Correct, it is mobbed, and why is that? It’s the Trinity Education Project (TEP). TEP, TEP, and once more for the people in the back, TEP. So if you’re pissed with the lack of space in the Ussher, get pissed with the right people, not your fellow students. If you’ve seen the mock Titanic that is the new Business School, then you should know too that if the powers that be really cared, they could find a way to expand the library. But instead, they’ve chosen to distract and divide us with their “desk monitors”. This is Simon Harris claiming the repeal movement as his own, to distract from the shambles that is our health service. This is shameless.
Now, for my final point and, perhaps, my most salient: there’s not one shop in this city that isn’t hiring for Christmas. Brown Thomas offers flexibility and a good discount. For the first time in a long time, students genuinely have a choice of part-time work. What kind of strange and twisted mind thinks: “Ah yes, walking around in circles for hours, in silence, while timing the piss breaks of the student population – perfect”? I prithee, dear reader, have sense. These are not good people. It’ll be Bridget from senior infants that told the teacher every time you just tried to have an experience and eat a crayon. These people will argue loudly when challenged. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want their carrot-loving hands on my personal belongings. Under no circumstances.
If you believe in freedom, and in love, stand with me and oppose putting these people in power.
