Michael Moynihan: Don't bank on community services being a priority anymore
Nina O’Sullivan at the save Blarney post office protest in May. Picture; Eddie O'Hare
There’s been so much criticism of AIB in the last couple of weeks I feel almost embarrassed adding my piping tones to the chorus.
Almost is the key word, of course.
The announcement that AIB was to stop cash services in 70 branches across the country provoked an outcry, and it was no surprise to see them reverse the decision soon afterwards.Â
Had it gone ahead the result would have seen swathes of the country — entire peninsulas in some cases — with no access to cash at all from their banks.
The original announcement was quickly (and correctly) interpreted as another assault on rural Ireland, but it also struck hard at all sorts of vulnerable groups.Â
The move was criticised by women’s advocates, who pointed to the need for women in difficult circumstances to access cash, and those who represent the elderly stressed the disadvantage being imposed on that section of the population.
It took no great leap of the imagination to conjure up the image of a woman escaping an abusive relationship or a pensioner on a fixed income facing a long journey to access necessary cash if they lived in one of the rural areas affected by the bank decision.
The potential removal of cash services was no boon to urban Ireland either, and I found a particularly wicked twist as I ambled by Kennedy Park in Cork city one morning.Â
Anyone familiar with the area will know the bus shelter on one side of the park, where an advertisement caught my eye.
“Your bank is in our post office,” the cheery text told me. “Access your AIB and Bank of Ireland accounts in over 900 post offices nationwide. Open six days a week. Lodge and withdraw cash and cheques all at your local post office counter. Visit your local post office today.”
Bottom right-hand corner: “An Post For your world.” Suggestible chap that I am, I took the advice.
I wandered past Salt without ducking in for a coffee, and I made it past Sonny’s Deli without ducking in for one of their unfeasibly large sandwiches either. I made it to the local post office on Albert Road.
Which I found to be shut, and looking unlikely to reopen.
This is not the first post office to close down in the general vicinity. Last February, the post office on High Street in Turners Cross closed down, and other areas of the city have lost out in recent years as well. During the pandemic, the post offices in Montenotte and Military Road also shut down.

On one level people living in rural areas would be forgiven for rolling their eyes at this. The notion that travelling a further kilometre or two signifies serious disruption sound pretty hollow in comparison to the Castletownbere-Bantry hike described earlier.
But not only is the post office gone, those cash services are gone also. And anyone with an understanding of how Ireland works will recognise the blow to any community — urban or rural — that a post office closure represents. It affects people’s independence, dignity, and safety.
Advocate for the elderly Paddy O’Brien made exactly this point to on the occasion of the High Street post office closing:Â
“This is an absolutely appalling situation that An Post is allowed to continue at this rate closing so many post offices throughout the country.
“The post offices are a very important service to the elderly and this will now mean they would have to walk further to another post office or hire a taxi which would be more money out of the pension which at the moment is already inadequate.
“Many have been collecting money at this particular post office for years and some of whom are in their 70s, 80s, and 90s and this awful decision by An Post will unduly create hardship for those who went to High Street for their weekly payment.
"In walking back from a post office in a new location, the elderly would feel exceptionally nervous and scared because they would be recognised as strangers in the area and people would know they’re after drawing their weekly pension.”
Perhaps AIB were simply trying to soothe the fears of the elderly by halting cash services so pensioners wouldn’t have to worry about carrying that money around with them. Problem solved.
Sorry for being facetious, but call it a safety valve. It’s difficult not to seethe at the way circumstances can coalesce to punish the ordinary citizen, though perhaps circumstances is the wrong term, and cold-blooded decisions is the right one.
AIB’s decision on cash services was deplorable, selfish, and tone-deaf to the mood of the nation, but at least it’s consistent with the company.Â
About four weeks ago its chief executive was to be feted with the 2022 Global Business Leadership award by the Ireland-US Council.Â
About five weeks ago the same chief executive, Colin Hunt, issued an apology for AIB’s treatment of customers in the tracker mortgage scandal, calling it a “stain on its reputation”. (The Central Bank was more precise about that stain, fining AIB €97m.)

It’s worrying to see post offices dragged into this mess, however tangentially.Â
With post offices being closed at the rate we’ve seen in Cork it means people are being denied the traditional services offered by post offices, but also the cash services being trumpeted by the major banks in advertisements as a major draw for those post offices.Â
A double whammy, as the kids say.
How are those traditional services affected by the banks’ move towards cashless transactions? If you can actually find an open post office in Cork, or elsewhere, are you just in time to be refused banking cash services?
Is this what we want from our post offices in the first place — for them to become little bank branches, with accompanying costs (security, training, etc) which are likely to be imposed on customers?
I’ve seen online suggestions that the cost of running the post office network last year was €70m, with retail revenues reaching €53m. Translation: a €17m shortfall.Â
The service is worth it, cash services or not. Some years ago Paddy O’Shea, the postmaster in Aghada down in east Cork, told Joyce Fegan of this parish about his working week:Â
“Someone came into me yesterday and said I was the only human being she met for the week. She goes to the bank, there’s a machine. She comes to me I’ll talk to her. I’ll do anything she wants.”
You needn’t point out that that lady was lucky to even find a machine in the bank. Given what we’ve seen recently, she was lucky to find a post office.





