Fergus Finlay: Donohoe complaints and ‘tax cut’ cries just FG brand assertion
Taoiseach Leo Varadkar and Tánaiste and Minister for Defence Micheál Martin at a ceremony of reconciliation and remembrance of all those who lost their lives in the Irish Civil War, in the Garden of Remembrance, Dublin. Picture: Stephen Collins/Collins Photos
I worked for years with a man called William Scally. He is one of those rare people in your life from whom you learn something every day. He’s still going strong, still a friend, still capable of the odd acerbic comment about the things I write here (only when he disagrees with me, of course!).
In his years as a political adviser, William was one of those people who liked to advise around options. He hated what he called “zero option” moments — those situations where the only thing possible to do is the least damaging thing. But he was also brilliant at seeing around corners and he was especially good at recognising that actions often have unintended consequences. Back in the 80s and 90s, the phrase “unintended consequences” wasn’t used for much at all — except when Scally was analysing a political scenario.
He had a phrase he used. I stole it shamelessly a few years ago for a column I wrote here, and I’ve occasionally had reason to revisit it. No government, he used to say (and probably still does), is ever as stable or as unstable as it looks from the outside.
A lot of my political experience and memory is a testament to the wisdom of that observation. I’m old enough to remember Jack Lynch being pretty well forced to resign a year or so after winning an unbelievable 20-seat majority. William and I both worked for a government that was in an absolutely unassailable position until trust completely broke down between its Taoiseach and Tánaiste.
On the other hand, we both worked for a government led by Garret Fitzgerald and Dick Spring that lasted four tough years. And that government was described as “inherently unstable” virtually every day of its life.
So when I start reading headlines like “coalition tensions ratcheting up” or “general election looking closer”, I always remember William’s phrase. And it hasn’t gone away — according to an article in this newspaper, FG TDs are worried about Paschal Donohoe (last time I looked he was one of their own). They’re afraid that “his cautious approach to spending will cost them seats at the next general election”.
What caused all that? Three Junior Ministers, true blue each of them, wrote a newspaper article demanding that middle-income families should get a tax break in the forthcoming budget. My fellow columnist Michael Clifford wrote on Saturday that it was a silly and juvenile gesture, and there’s no disagreeing with that.
But then I heard on the radio that in response, Fianna Fáil’s Willie O’Dea was making like the Incredible Hulk — “Don’t make me angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry”. According to the story I referred to a moment ago about Fine Gael’s disgruntlement with Paschal, the row between the parties is still simmering on. Nobody, nobody I tell you, wants Willie O’Dea to turn green.
And then, all of a sudden I see that one of the main stories on Sunday was the laying of a wreath by Micheál Martin and Leo Varadkar to mark the moment the Civil War ended. I’m guessing William is having a sardonic chuckle. It would be just a tiny bit hypocritical, wouldn’t it, to be laying a wreath while a new civil war was breaking out over tax cuts for the middle classes?
The Taoiseach and Tánaiste didn’t lay a wreath each, they laid a joint wreath, in the Garden of Remembrance. I was worried at first that RTÉ might be a bit too caught up in the artificial row over the Fine Gael junior ministers, because the headline on the news report of the wreath-laying (on the RTÉ website) said “Ceremony held to mark end of Civil War”.
Actually, when you read the whole piece, they laid a wreath to make the centenary of the end of the Civil War — the late Frank Aiken called a halt to it 100 years ago. So no need to worry, the three junior ministers haven’t declared the start of military action.
And of course, by the time you read this, the coalition leaders will have had a meeting and no doubt will have issued some sort of soothing statement designed to calm our shattered nerves over the prospect of a snap election.
Don’t worry lads, we never thought an election was likely. This isn’t a row about tax cuts or public spending.
Nobody is too pushed about waiting lists, pain, or broken families, or even families at breaking point. Nobody wants to resign from government over the fact that one of the richest countries in the world has made a complete dog’s dinner of some of the most important quality of life issues.
Wouldn’t that be a remarkable, even healthy thing? If a group of government backbenchers stood up on their hind legs, supported or led by a minister or two, and announced there were some things they simply weren’t prepared to defend anymore? Well, if you’ll forgive the cliché, don’t hold your breath.
Nowadays, when a British Tory says something racist, or a Sinn Féin leader talks about the need to get ready for an imminent border poll, they’re asserting the brand too. That’s all it means really.
I’ve been there, and I get it. Coalitions are hard in Ireland. You live all the time with the sense that your identity is being swallowed up and you have this constant need to reassert yourself. It’s happened again and again over the years. And none of us have ever got it right.
There was a crowd back in the day called the PDs, and they were the best in the business at asserting themselves — climbing up lampposts, demanding the complete hollowing out of the tax base. Really sharp brand they had. Whatever happened to them, I wonder?
We have a big budget coming up. There’s a massive (although probably fragile) surplus. There is room for some modest tax changes, but there are far more important issues than that around. I could be totally wrong, but I’m guessing the people in charge of this discussion have long enough memories not to be rash (at least not until the general election is real!).
But I’m guessing that the junior ministers have calibrated their budget demands pretty carefully. There won’t at the end of the day be a need for them to resign on principle, because they haven’t asserted a demand for (let’s say) the doubling of the disability budget, or a claim that a rich country can give every older person a guarantee in law of support and dignity in their old age.
All they’ve asked for is a few bob for a few people. They’ll get something and tell us all they’ve won. And we’ll all heave a sigh of relief that they don’t have to resign after all.
