From the Ashes a Fire Shall Awaken

The stage was set, the lights brightened and a lone figure emerged on to the platform. There was no entertainment before the oratory this time, informing us  that the mood would continue to be somber, sober and serious.  The day had passed quickly, with small groups of people moving from one busy hall to the next, each room holding a gathering discussing Education, or Small Business, or Party Policy. Not even the hoards of canvassers could deter the determined men and women, young and old in what they saw as their mission, as their duty. But while the people moved to a chorus of “grassroots”, “Renewal”, and “Change”, the most striking decisions this time were not made in any of the many workshops, they were made by the members in one of the biggest organizational changes in the Party’s history.

“One Member, One Vote” was the turning point of this Árd Fheis; it was what everything relied on and, in turn, what everything revolved around. The hall was packed with delegates from every corner of the country; north and south, to debate the issue that we could see empower the ordinary members and give them the role that they so desperately wanted and deserved. There were seventeen motions on debate and most proponents were extremely wary of what was to come. Their fears were quelled quickly and an audible buzz of excitement filled the room when the first of the motions and then all subsequent motions were passed by massive majorities, if not unanimously. Finally the members had a voice.

But what struck me most about that scene in the Shelbourne Hall was not the huge number of people there, we expected this to be a focal point, rather it was the actions of our leader. We had become accustomed to leaders sitting at top tables in debates, watching while votes took place and whispered conversations amongst the high and mighty beside them. This was different; while Micheál Martin sat at a top table, he did not lord it over those who had turned up. When voting took place, Micheál as a member raised his delegate pass and voted, not as a leader, but as a member, the same as any of the rest of us standing there. It was a simple gesture, but an important one.

As I said, the stage had been set, and we watched Robert Troy take to the stage, our faces untelling and skeptical if I am to be honest.  What we weren’t expecting was the speech we got, like a rally cry we soon found ourselves caught up in the hysteria, with the back-slapping and wooping that I feared this Árd Fheis could not bring. By the time Robert finished the mood had gone from somber to sheer excitement, would this be the beginning of our fight back?

And then he arrived and we all leapt to our feet as he moved through us to the podium, a member rather than a figurehead. When the applause finally subsided we got what we had come for. We got the apology we had so long hoped would come; we got the pro-Europe message we had feared was threatened; and most importantly we got the reassurance that we would not promote opposition for oppositions sake. With a level-headed and principled man at the helm we as a party had matured, had accepted our failings and were determined to move ahead and try to change how politics worked in this country. Something that we could not achieve without the apology we finally, publicly, espoused.

I was always told by the older members of the party, that Fianna Fáil performed best when pushed up against a wall. It was hard to see though, this time, how we could rally ourselves when we had not merely been pushed up against a wall but were rightly pushed straight through it. But we did, and it looks like this is not the end after all. The clouds are beginning to clear and light is once again coming through, albeit a very dim light still. Reporters and speculators had written Fianna Fáil off, they had said we were finished, but the RDS this weekend told a different story. It told a story of a party that had lost its was rather than declined; that had moved away from its members rather than its members moving away from it; and that was finally ready to offer an alternative.

If there was one thing I learned from this weekend it was that, you write Fianna Fáil off at your own peril. An organization that bears the similarity to a national movement rather than a single party will never truly disappear. Our numbers in the Dáil may be few and our resources may be  meek but inside each and every one of our hearts lies the spark that will ignite a thousand searing flames. To echo the words of Ted Kennedy, "the work goes on, the cause endures, the hope still lives, and the dream shall never die."

Ar Aghaidh le Fianna Fáil

A Case of Convenient Amnesia

Lethargy seems to have crept into the current political arena at the present time. Now more than ever the status quo seems to have become engrained into the mindset of the Irish people, as we struggle to come to terms with what is going on in the country at the moment. As if this wasn’t bad enough, our Taoiseach, Enda the Seer, has not helped matters by confirming our own suspicions and proclaiming to the world at large that we are “Mad”. But his prophetic judgment seems to be a function largely based on hindsight, that is, he’s very good at rearing his head after an event and proclaiming, “I knew that was going to happen.” We’ve heard the same drivel before, we heard it immediately after the General Election when Enda and his merry men decided that the 5 point plan was only a mere election promise, a small token to show just what his party could do if elected, but which would safely be deposited to the pile marked “under consideration”, a sort of limbo well known to the Jim Hackers and Sir Humphrey’s of the world rather than our “esteemed” Dáil deputies.

The plan, which could more accurately be described as a working title rather than a major policy document, promised jobs, placed education at its very core, and promised to seek a reduction in Irelands debt. So far Jobbridge has become a means of getting highly qualified (yes you have to be highly qualified) persons to work for an extra €50 on top of their social welfare payment. This is nothing short of madness; instead of getting people back to work and off the live register the government are actually encouraging social welfare payments as an alternative to full-time employment. Of course, companies aren’t complaining, they’re receiving skilled graduates for €50 a week, a deal you’d expect to see in Lidl or Aldi rather than a government internship scheme.

Education also took a bit of a hammering, as Quinn-occhio started to distance himself from signing any USI pledge. Indeed, Quinn did such a marvelous job of forgetting that he signed the pledge that it took thousands of students marching in Dublin with cries of the hardships of full-time education to remind him that any such pledge had ever existed. But the bout of short-term memory loss subsided and Ruairí Quinn began to spout that oft quoted mantra of “we didn’t know the scale of the financial problems faced in this country”. Well Ruairí, despite your protestations, you did know when you signed that USI pledge (Yes you did sign it, we have pictures) the full scale of the countries problems, but you decided to court the electorate rather than be honest and upfront because lets face it, getting elected is much more important than letting the plebs on the street know what was actually going to happen. Gene Kerrigan’s tale of Irish local politics, entitled, “Never Make a Promise You Can’t Break” should be on the Leaving Cert English paper, just so the next generation knows exactly what they are up against.

As far as the promises of a reduction in the country’s debt is concerned it seems that Quinn’s memory loss has spread to his cabinet colleagues (maybe there’s something in the water). Before the election our Taoiseach elect stood like a prize pig beside Merkel and Sarkozy in Brussels while squealing on and on about the assurances he had received that Irelands debt would be looked at. God, that seems like a life time ago and can easily be forgotten about, well at least that’s what Enda Kenny seems to be hoping. Since that particular photo op, Enda has changed his game plan (yes he probably had something closely resembling a plan… of sorts at one stage), now he has gone from being the youthful rebel in the class to the atypical noddy, in that he seems to now sit at the front of the class nodding at everything Merkozy say, and probably wittering little nonsensical reassurance of “yes sir” and “right away sir”. And if that lap dog approach to international relations wasn’t terrifying enough, it seems that now Enda has no intention, never mind recollection, of looking for some write down in our debt. And this from the man who called us mad! Sigh

But maybe we are a bit mad, or more so not mad enough. As much as it galls me to say it, I found myself agreeing with Eamon Dunphy last week as he reminded us all of just how relaxed we are about what is happening to our country. For all our history of war and rebellion we have become a nation of pacifists. We seem to take news of a €100 household charge, the imminent Septic Tank charge and complete lack of coherent plan lying down. Yeats told us in September 1913 that romantic Ireland was dead and gone. I wonder what he would say in 2012, I would imagine his critique would be a lot more scathing.

Amnesia passes and when it does Enda Kenny and his cohorts better be ready because it’s not going to be a pretty sight. The art of magic is about slight of hand and misdirection, but even these tricks become nonchalant when examined closely and you see the coin that will appear from behind your ear cupped discretely between the magicians fingers. Poor Enda faces the same illusion shattering experience as the magician, although unlike the magician Enda’s attempts at misdirection so far have been mediocre to say the least. And when the collected cabinet amnesia disperses, so too will the country’s idolatry. And then my friends, the fun will begin…