Observers predicted that the financial crash and economic crisis of 2008-11, with EU-imposed austerity and restrictions on public expenditure, would irrevocably change the Irish political landscape. The demise of Fianna Fáil in the 2011 general election and the growth in appeal of left-leaning political movements, including Sinn Féin, were taken as hard evidence that things could never be the same again.
No more “business as usual” was the demand. The rhetoric advocated a fresh start and a new beginning for modern Ireland. This was the moment to get rid of the “old crowd” of party hacks and time servers, bring in the new fresh faces, uncontaminated as they were by the years of excessive greed and endemic corruption that characterised the Celtic Tiger era.
In the end this all proved an illusion, a soothing media mantra to reassure an angry public that the ringleaders would indeed be punished for the misery they had caused. A few sacrificial lambs, whose acts of financial corruption were ostentatious even by the shameful standards of the Celtic Tiger, may end up behind bars for a short period of time, but make no mistake, while the Irish establishment emerged shaken and disorientated in 2011, it was still in firm control.
But to speak of a unitary Irish establishment does not really capture the overlapping circles of power which radiate out from politicians and senior civil servants to business, banking, media and legal elites. You could just about fit all the really powerful people in Ireland into the Round Room of the Mansion House, the venue for the first meeting of Dáil Éireann in January 1919, and the first step towards self-government.
Ironically all Irish politicians see themselves as anti-establishment, yet at the same time occupy key positions in this body politic and are part of what they call the political “system”. The professional middle classes, largely but not exclusively a south Dublin tribe, are contemptuous of politicians. Yet they are also acutely aware that they need them to pursue their own ends, whether this be offshore tax scams, profiteering on the backs of others or simply the preservation of a deeply unequal society, achieved through education, rigid class divisions and other means.
Powerless had to pay
And for the rest? Well they just survive as best they can with punitive tax rates, high rents or saddled with mortgages of higher value than their homes. After all, it is the powerless who ultimately have had to pay for the sins of the bankers and property developers.
How did we, the first nation to throw off British rule, in 1921-2, end up like this?
Whatever misgivings you may have about the pragmatism of the 1916 rebels, there is no doubting the commitment, integrity and selflessness of those who fought.
In the 1920s anti-imperialists and nationalists the world over looked at Ireland’s path to self-determination as a model. This revolutionary generation dominated Irish politics until the 1960s. They are open to criticism for many things. Unquestioning deference to the Catholic church, a lukewarm commitment to social justice and often fond of using empty rhetoric when it came to the “national question”; on the whole, though, they did not line their own pockets.
Mary E Daly’s new book on the long 1960s, from 1957 until entry into the EU in 1973, is essentially a portrait of Irish society during this critical time through the eyes of the establishment. It is no coincidence that the first third of the book concerns the economy, since getting this right is seen by politicians as crucial to maintaining support among the public. Daly is good on the policy blunders, the myopic vision and the basic failures of the politicians.
Those beyond Merrion Street don’t fare much better either. “The story of Irish industry is one of birth and death,” she remarks, reminding us that independent Ireland never industrialised and morphed from an agricultural economy into a service one. Insofar as blame is doled out, the mediocrity of some elements within the civil service is noted, especially internecine interdepartmental battles, or disputes over jurisdictional authority.
And when it comes to planning she chronicles bad decision after bad decision leading to the destruction of Georgian Dublin to be replaced by bland office blocks, and the emergence of suburban sprawl in Dublin, Cork and other Irish cities. Professional planners were overruled for political purposes.
Much of this is well known but bringing it all together in one account serves to remind us of the cumulative effects, and how the groundwork was laid for the corruption that had such a corrosive effect on the political culture during the 1980s and 1990s.
Daly is especially revealing on the bureaucratic mindset, which placed expediency and pragmatism over long-term strategy. To be fair, Irish civil servants have had to constantly readjust to an ever-changing political context in the 1960s in which “change” was one of the most overused words. Seán Lemass, who was taoiseach between 1959 and 1966, was very fond of the word “modern” and knew the value of promoting the modernity of Ireland, especially on the international stage, as Daly points out.
When it comes to the wider society, Daly rightly points to the continuities. Attitudes towards sexuality were notoriously impervious to the values of other western societies, leading to a culture of silence, shame and secrecy, the horrific consequences of which Ireland is only beginning to come to terms with decades later. Despite the changes in the law in the 1970s to promote gender equality, largely due to second-wave feminism and European pressure, especially on equal pay, altering views and social norms was a much more complex process. Emigration continued apace, even during the “golden age” of economic growth from the mid-1960s until the early 1970s.
“Ireland was still a county where most people knew their place” and rags to riches stories were uncommon, observes Daly about Ireland in the late 1950s. This book is less revealing on the social transformation that occurred, even though one of the key arguments is that this “revolution” has been overstated.
‘Rocky Road to Dublin’
But whether you can offer a fully inclusive portrait of any era drawing largely on the records of the State and politicians together with the writings of those who graced the pages of
Hibernia
or
Business and Finance
is a moot point, as Daly readily concedes. There is a mismatch between the values and norms of the governing classes, and the governed.
Nowhere is this better illustrated in Peter Lennon's remarkable documentary film, Rocky Road to Dublin (1967). Rarely shown in Ireland for over 35 years, it tells the story of a society in which the authority of church and state were the dominant forces, but with strong undercurrents of resistance and conflict.
Daly has informative chapters on Ireland’s foreign policy and the outbreak of conflict in the North. These round up the treatment of Ireland in a period of great change, and while she is at pains to point to the continuities (“a partial transformation”), the overall direction of travel is towards the emergence of a society that would never be the same again.
Enda Delaney is professor of modern history at the University of Edinburgh
