At home in Clara, Brian Cowen is subdued, wry, reflective, likeable – obviously a man with major decisions to make that transcend affairs of State
IT IS surreal. Back in Dublin, the Greens are in crisis talks, about to collapse what remains of his Government. His beloved party is in freefall.
Old friends are scheming for the job he vacated less than 24 hours before.
The electorate scans the doom-laden Sunday papers, awaiting news of fresh fiascos or at least, a snap election.
But for the man who is still Taoiseach, Sunday proceeds as normal. He tends his loves – family, faith and the GAA – in the small, safe rural enclave that nurtured him and regards him fondly as a neighbour’s child.
“I’d say he’s done his best. Everyone makes mistakes,” chides a woman gently at the gate of St Brigid’s Church in Clara, where he had just attended 11.30 Mass. “The Mass was for his father’s anniversary,” she notes.
Today is the 27th anniversary of Ber Cowen’s early death and yesterday’s anniversary Mass would have been an important date in Brian Cowen’s calendar, a man known for his devotion to his father’s memory. His 08-D black Mercedes is parked across the road.
The man himself meanwhile had walked on with a few friends – “all great GAA lads”, says local man and pal from the old days, Ricey Scully – down to his mother’s house on the main street.
As he emerges with his wife Mary and their children, he spots the couple of journalists hovering at a respectful distance and comes over. Passing drivers sound their horns, shouting greetings and invitations to get in the car and come to the match (a Leinster senior club football final in Portlaoise between Rhode and Kilmacud Crokes), but he remarks that he’s heading there anyway. “It just so happened that Dad’s anniversary Mass was lining up this morning – it’s more for that that I came home this morning.”
Around the village, old muckers were saying that he looked like a man who had had a weight lifted off his back. In reality, he is subdued, wry, reflective, likeable – obviously a man with major decisions to make that transcend affairs of state.
Did he celebrate his liberation on Saturday night? “Let’s say it wasn’t a celebratory night,” he says ruefully.
Earlier, when asked whether he thought Cowen would run for the Dáil again, Ricey Scully thought for a minute before suggesting: “Well, he’s a politician and has always been a politician. He’s not going to sit in a corner. There’s always things in Europe.”
Cowen’s eyes widen comically when he hears this. “In fairness it could have been further afield – it could have been Africa,” he laughs.
So perhaps Europe isn’t on the agenda for now, but surely he is tempted to chuck it in? Significantly, he doesn’t dismiss it. “We’ll reflect on that. I mean yesterday I made one big decision . . . Our convention is due on the 1st of February so obviously we will make our minds up before then.”
So there’s a chance you might not run again? “I wouldn’t like to speculate on it at this stage. I just want to talk to a few people, just take a few days and try and see what’s the best thing to do. But obviously it’s . . . and I know in my heart I’m going to have to . . .” he says, the words fading as he tries to articulate a deeply personal dilemma, one he knows well will elicit little public sympathy.
“One of the things that’s come into play, I suppose, in the last couple of days is you know . . . With politicians I mean – whether people realise it or not and probably it’s not the perceived wisdom – you spend a long time in your life making decisions which are not necessarily with your own self in mind.
“In situations like this, I have to listen to my family as well. So it’s the first time in a long time you know where you can’t just simply look at this in a narrow political sense.
“But I’m not suggesting one way or the other, I am just trying to give you an honest assessment of where I am – where my mind is today. For the first time in a long time, you can’t just look at this in the narrow political sense.”
The message appears to be that it’s time to stand back and place family above politics, wherever that leads. On Saturday, he says, he dealt with events by keeping his sense of humour.
“You come out afterwards and you meet people and you’re disappointed but you use your sense of humour. . . it’s a time for it, for being light-hearted, to reassure them that everything’s OK, keep moving.”
But IS everything OK? “I’m obviously disappointed with the way the events turned out last week. Obviously we understood that we were in a position to proceed with putting my best team in the field for the next election – and Thursday morning then, everything was different and obviously I have to take responsibility for that from my point of view and others decide their own situation for themselves. [On Saturday] I felt the best thing from my political assessment was to step back and let the party come to another decision.”
Does he feel ill-used, misjudged? “Ah I’m not into that sort of analysis.”
But you are a man who reflects on the past – what are you thinking? “Thinking today,” he muses. “Ah I’m thinking – look, I’m a realist , the situation is as it is, the party has to move forward. I’ve always been raised in the belief that no one person is bigger than the party and you have got to make an objective political assessment. Sometimes that’s – however difficult it might be . . . I’m satisfied in the present circumstances that was the right thing to do.”
Back in Tullamore, meanwhile, speculation is growing among Fianna Fáil loyalists that if Cowen himself declines to run again, the plan may be to pass the parcel to his brother Barry, now in his second term as cathaoirleach of Offaly County Council.
Not everyone would be pleased at this development, it’s fair to say. “It would be a disaster for Brian Cowen not to be in politics – it’s the only life he’s known,” says one.
“And he could relax, be a backbencher and represent his constituency, which is what people would like him to do. Apart from the fact that Barry might well lose the seat and leave Tullamore with no representative, it would smack of that family dynasty thing that is out of fashion now.”