The pain of withdrawal symptoms was etched on the faces of the Government as they launched the National Wreckovery Plan
YESTERDAY SHOULD have been the day when the spoofing stopped.
Spoofers brought us here.
The business sweet-talkers and their besotted political cheerleaders spinning the spoof until it became second nature, brought us here.
We might not be able to forgive the money grabbers for what they did, but at least they were conforming to the worst of their type. The political elite – for 18 of the last 20 years that’s been Fianna Fáil – has no excuse.
Maybe that is why so many citizens disregarded the warnings of their “betters” and said they would welcome outside intervention from the IMF and the EU. Those foreigners are immune to the gene which has so contaminated Irish government for over a decade.
When the eyes of the world were elsewhere, the spoofers could tell us anything, and frequently did. Ministers, queuing up to make excuses for their taoiseach who was disgracing his – our – high office in the witness box at a State tribunal. Nothing was so bad that it couldn’t be brazened out.
Just a couple of sessions at Leaders’ Questions to endure before the herd moved on to the next controversy.
What of it? We were “the envy of the world”, everything was being done according to “international best practice” and there wasn’t anything that couldn’t be solved by throwing a few shillings at it and boasting about it afterwards.
Lots of lovely plans and launches and photo opportunities. Only four months ago, the Government booked the new convention centre and launched a revised National Development Plan.
This was a bad news story, but they cloaked the slashing of capital expenditure in an expensive, glitzy launch and the Taoiseach declared it would create 270,000 new jobs.
The wheels had already come off the wagon, but in the heads of our congenital political spoofers, we were all still rolling along.
When the Bailout Boys were packing their bags and boarding the plane for Ireland, the spoofing continued. Bailout? What bailout? Keep denying everything and sure, God is good . . .
The ordinary people were dejected, but they knew one thing: the outsiders wouldn’t stand for the blarney and, more importantly, unlike them, they didn’t and wouldn’t have to suffer it.
They came to administer the only remedy that might cure Brian Cowen and his Cabinet of their chronic contagion – a good, strong dose of reality.
The medicine is beginning to work, for sure, but after so many years of ingrained spoofing, there is no instant result.
The pain of withdrawal symptoms was etched on the faces of the Taoiseach and his Ministers as they launched the National Wreckovery Plan to raise the national wreck of our economy.
They announced details in the Government press centre, which looked appropriately drab for the occasion. There wasn’t a glossy brochure in sight and no snazzy graphics were commissioned to adorn the cover of the plan.
At 2pm, the mobile phone signal was cut in the basement auditorium and the main principals arrived. The sight of a rather dishevelled-looking Vincent Browne added a touch of excitement as he took his place among the press corps.
Then Mary Harney led the parade of crestfallen Cabinet Ministers on to the platform.
In a nod to austerity, there weren’t enough seats for them all and Dermot Ahern had to sit in the front row beside a reporter from the Irish Sun newspaper — a terrible embarrassment for such an august organ.
Tánaiste Mary Coughlan was living proof that hemlines go up in a recession; either that, or the IMF has already slashed the availability of skirt material.
Then came the miserable triumvirate of the Brians Cowen and Lenihan, with Green Party leader John Gormley, for punishment.
The Taoiseach was first to speak. Now, when it is far too late, he delivered the nearest he has ever come to a state-of-the-nation address. “We can and we will pull through as we have in the past . . . it is a time for us to pull together as a people and to do so in a united way.”
He sounded passionate, concerned, human. It evoked those speeches he gave in Offaly when he was first elected. Then, he hinted of darker days to come but drew on the qualities of community, family and strength in adversity that so encouraged those who heard him.
“We are a smart, resilient people and we are going to get through this challenge because we love this country and we want to make our children have a future here too . . .”
Stirring words that resonated with all those worried citizens listening on radio and watching on television.
Then John Gormley spoke, delivering an apologia for the Greens in what sounded like a party political broadcast. He didn’t see the broader national and international picture, instead, he showcased his party’s achievements in education and environmental policy.
His trumpeting of how they pushed the prioritisation of education had his audience scratching their heads, as they had just read the how the proposed cuts will affect the education of the disadvantaged children.
John Gormley had done what the Taoiseach is asking the nation to do in this time of crisis – he had donned the Green jersey. But it was the wrong one. The Green leader’s self-justification sounded narrow and inappropriate.
Next was the Minister for Finance. He’s done with turning corners. Now, he is plotting the route out of the “steep downturn.” This to provide “certainty”, which is the buzzword of the week.
So far, so (relatively) spoof free.
But all was not as it seemed. The fine print in the document had already set off alarm bells.
In particular, a little line at the bottom of page 7 that worried people.
It read: “The estimates of general Government debt contained in the plan do not take account of any additional support to the banking system that may be part of a negotiated programme of external assistance.”
Did this mean that all the projections and aspiration in the National Wreckovery Plan were predicated on how much money we will eventually have to pour into the banks – a figure that the Taoiseach can’t accurately supply? Neither Brian could give a satisfactory answer. Just some wan spoofing.
Others wondered if the Bailout Boys had given their seal of approval to the plan. Again, no straight answers.
Talking of spoofing, John Gormley said his party’s decision to pull out of Government in January had given “certainty”. You could almost hear the Opposition laughter from Leinster House next door, while the seated Fianna Fáil Ministers scowled.
There was a lot of interest in how the two Brians interacted with each other. They didn’t have a stand-up row and they didn’t hold hands (neighbours watching).
But significantly, it was Lenihan who made sure he got the last word when the press conference was wrapped up.
“This document has to be the basis of any sensible proposals in the next general election,” he declared. “Anything else that is put forward is NONSENSE!” This sounded like a man positioning himself for leadership.
The Opposition was not impressed. “No growth strategy,” said Labour’s Joan Burton.
“I find this very disappointing,” sighed Fine Gael’s Michael Noonan.
The public was puzzled. Still no real indication of what the cuts in taxation and social welfare will be in the budget.
“No one can be sheltered,” declared the Taoiseach. He was right and wrong. The millionaire spoofing developers seem to be doing very nicely in their Spanish and American boltholes. On the other hand, a protester lunged at Minister Batt O’Keeffe as he emerged from Leinster House and grabbed him by the tie.
Meanwhile, back inside, panting staff were wheeling out trolley-loads of boxes of literature and envelopes to deputies’ cars. Much done, more to be spoofed.
As a confusing few hours came to an end, Brian Cowen did yet another live interview on SixOne. He sounded a little overwrought as he defended himself and his Government.
As the Taoiseach spoke, one couldn’t help notice the furniture in his room in Government Buildings. Dev, looking out from the wall to his right and a coffin ship on the window ledge to his left . . .
