Ireland was once the EU's favourite son. But that was then. So can we use this year's presidency to win back favour, asks Kathy Sheridan.
In his list of 101 things to do on January 1st a British journalist included at number 49: "Breathe a sigh of relief as Ireland takes over the EU presidency from Italy". Mind you, the Guardian man also suggested that we sue Catherine Zeta-Jones (number 69) and send him a pound (101), but that only proves that the lad is a deep lateral thinker.
And he got it right on number 49. Europe is breathing out again. One week into our six-month reign and Ireland radiates the aura of a small, skilled, super-willing ER crew, with shrewd, streetwise Dr Bertie at the helm.
As EU sensitivities such as presidencies and dinner-table seating move around in a set order, it has always been our destiny to follow Italy. Oh, lucky us.
On the Italian prime minister's second day into the job, he compared a German MEP to a concentration camp guard. While the December summit was crashing around his ears - along with the draft EU constitution, Italy's reputation and the tooth-clenched forbearance of the other 24 leaders - he grinned that they should chat about "women and football". Sure, he was only saying what other people thought, he shrugged afterwards, as Chris Patten, EU Commissioner in charge of external affairs, charitably dubbed the event "a fiasco but not a disaster".
After that, you might think it only reasonable to assume that unless the Taoiseach actually gets sick into Jacques Chirac's lap on live television (see George Bush Snr for precedents), we can only do better.
No-one doubts that the Irish can run an efficient, workmanlike presidency. It is our misfortune, however, to want it to be spectacular. This is about national pride. It's also about salvaging what's left of our "good little Europeans" cachet in Brussels after the hammer-blow of our No to Nice 1 and poor-spirited Yes to Nice 2.
The way Brussels sees things, the EU's favourite son, the one it liked to parade around the world as its best advertisement, transformed by its billions from downtrodden Paddy country to wealthy, modern state, had bitten its only begetter, publicly and shockingly. And Brussels has not forgotten.
"The Irish have fallen off the league table in every category," says a neutral observer, who fears the fall-out when next we go seeking a sympathetic pass (on say, retaining the national veto on tax issues) in an EU with many more poor-mouths to feed. "It's very, very important that Ireland gets this right."
And he doesn't mean the right canapés, cuts of beef or curly-haired, riverdancing colleens. We're talking about driving agendas and making historic deals; massaging monstrous egos while defending the "little voice" in Europe.
Can Brian Cowen, effectively EU foreign minister until June, visit Israel and Egypt next week and square the circle on behalf of an EU with no common foreign policy (as horribly evidenced by Iraq)? Can Michael McDowell, effectively EU minister for justice and home affairs, drive through a common policy on asylum and immigration, although seven presidencies have elapsed since the EU resolved to have a deal in place by 2004? Above all, will Dr Bertie succeed in getting a deal on the new Constitution? Is it even sensible for him to try, as Ireland girds itself to lead different but thoroughly bruising negotiations on a new seven-year EU budget plan, beginning on January 25th?
While the great bulk of the draft Constitution has been agreed upon, the impasse is rooted in the most treacherous territory: who finally wields power in Europe? Spain, for example, has less than half the population of Germany yet has nearly as many votes in the Council of Ministers. Germany resents this and supports a new system which reflects population size. Which means, of course, that Germany could not be outvoted.
Limbering up for battle are Germany and France versus Spain and Poland. After the Italian fiasco, the sense was that a cooling-off period might be advisable and that the next round of hostilities should be left for the Dutch presidency (which follows ours). Ireland, in theory then, could leave it at that.
But the temptation is enormous. A deal on the Constitution would crown the country and return it to Europe's bosom in style. To succeed would be a ringing triumph. But to start and fail would be a terrible embarrassment.
What's a man to do? It's at times like this that even Bertie Ahern's worst enemies defer to him and his widely admired, well-honed negotiation skills at domestic and EU level. It is a tribute to him and his team that no-one is prepared to rule anything in or out.
Meanwhile, as week one of National Pride draws to a close, the average citizen gearing up for streets gridlocked by speeding limos, ridiculous motorcades and screaming police sirens, laced with tales of extravagant dining, may be a tad dismayed by the comparative restraint.
This is partly because, contrary to perception, only a small percentage of Brussels activity moves to the State holding the presidency. Although some 2,500 meetings of one kind or another will take place under the Irish chair (reflecting the fact that around 85 per cent of all decisions on proposals are made before they reach ministerial level), only a small proportion will occur in Ireland.
The Irish presidency website (www.eu2004.ie), for example, lists 32 meetings and events for January, though only eight are in Ireland. In February, the figure is 11 in Ireland, out of 44. In March, it's 16 out of 49. In April, it rockets to 23 out of 32, and in May, 32 out of 42, as the programme gathers momentum around the country.
Within Ireland, it is reckoned that some 40 per cent of the activities will take place outside the capital.
In terms of screaming motorcades, Tuesday was an acid test given that the barons of Europe - the entire EU Commission, headed by its president, Romano Prodi - were in town for a meeting with the Government. They behaved admirably. While a Garda escort was provided and Prodi travelled by car, the barons sportingly piled on to two buses. The Norwegian prime minister settled for one Garda car in front.
On Thursday, Javier Solana, the EU High Representative for Foreign Policy, (which probably goes hand in hand with high security), had an escort of a police car in front and one behind, a couple of motorcycle gardaí and a modest Volkswagen people-carrier for his entourage. As a number of the 50 silver Audi A8s supplied under a €3.5 million sponsorship deal are bulletproof, it's likely that Solana got one of those too.
We may assume, sadly, that none of the 30 Volkswagen Caravelles, supplied for the travelling journalists, is bulletproof.
While protocol people point out that escorts are an operational decision for the Garda ("there can be security issues" is how one source put it wryly), they are undoubtedly steering a delicate course between the odd genuine security risk, a welter of diplomatic niceties, and the understandable human impulse to minimise hostile calls to Joe Duffy.
All bets are off for next week, however, as the first of the 25 "informal" ministerial meetings kicks off with a three-day conference in Galway. Some 40 ministers for labour and social affairs, plus entourages, will be flying into Shannon, before journeying to Galway. These should provide some serious griping opportunities en route - and that's not including the possibility that Tony Blair will also be fetching up in Eyre Square, as a participant.
With left-wing protests expected around Galway, security is expected to be extremely tight.
Given that "showcasing" has become one of the buzz-words of this presidency (as in the "showcasing" of Irish tourism, scenery, hospitality, cuisine, arts), and the fact that TV crews, given the choice, have a lamentable tendency to showcase riots rather than men in suits, Garda self-respect is a big factor here.
The Garda budget for the presidency has increased to €12.5 million and more than 60 gardaí on public order duties have been fitted with helmets and ear-pieces. They've also got 250 new radios, a "communications coach" with radio and CCTV and 23 new public order vans, as well as metal detectors of several kinds, two X-ray machines and an explosive detector.
The solemn hope, of course, is that none of these will be necessary. With hundreds of journalists from Europe's most prestigious publications being bussed all over Ireland in the coming months (350 are expected for the Punchestown outing alone), the potential is there for a fabulous tourism dividend - or a PR disaster. Given that the presidency could cost the taxpayer up to €80 million, the dividend would be welcome.
The Civil Service has been doing its bit. While the 60 Brussels-based journalists brought to Dublin this week, for familiarisation and briefings by key ministers, had a work schedule, the organisers - who put them up in Buswells Hotel beside the Dáil - also made sure they ate well in Dublin Castle and elsewhere, experienced the delights of the Guinness Storehouse and its Gravity Bar, and went home with fripperies such as a two-day Dublin Rambler ticket, miniatures of whisky, coloured pencils (no, I can't explain it) and the usual umbrella in their standard-issue presidential bags.
Bringing the ministers (and not insignificantly, the media) around the country is not an original idea. While we might be eager to show off medieval Kilkenny and the lakes of Killarney, those media girls and guys talk fondly of beach parties in Thessaloniki during the Greek presidency, sojourns in Hamlet's Elsinore during the Danish one, Seville during Spain's, Naples during Italy's . . . a kind of grading system comes into play.
Britain stands out as the most miserable - journalists had to pay for everything - and Russia hardly distinguished itself with its little pewter statuette of Peter the Great in the goody-bag.
Ireland, however, is remembered fondly as a place where packs of highly desirable smoked salmon and whiskey were waiting, ready for collection at the airport - on departure. They didn't even have to haul the stuff around with them. Genius.
Meanwhile, the Tipperary mineral water will be hard to ignore during this presidency. Marie Cooney reckons that the company's sponsorship will involve some 30,000 to 50,000 bottles (which now carry the distinctive EU circle-of-stars logo) of varying sizes, plus as many as 100 19-litre drums for the water-coolers installed in the 25 ministerial places. For the two big summits in Brussels alone, it will be watering some 10,000 people.
Meanwhile, this week, 1,000 meals were provided in Dublin for EU functions - and that doesn't include the launch of the cultural programme at the National Gallery. For the next six months, the man appointed by the Office of Public Works to take charge of the food end is Padraic O'Kane (31) of Corporate Solutions, the company that organised the recent Westlife wedding in Ashford Castle, Co Mayo.
There will be 400 days worth of catering crammed into the six months and food, of course, is a major "showcase". Some weeks, O'Kane expects to cater for 5,000 people. But there is no tedious counting of individual pats of Kerrygold butter in this system. O'Kane checked out the regular panel of caterers at Farmleigh or Dublin Castle or the Royal Hospital, checking and re-checking standards, choosing menus, fixing prices and appointing each company for three-week stints. He has done the same with the 25 hotels scheduled for ministerial meetings, co-ordinating menus for different locations so that a VIP isn't faced with the horror of beef, say, for both lunch and dinner. His beat also includes tasks such as finding the best seafood in Galway; a lobster starter is on the menu there next week.
Meanwhile, he is well pleased with the first week and with Fitzers, in particular, which did the catering for the Commission/Government lunch in Dublin Castle. There was a seafood chowder for 41 people which, he is pleased to report, was "the talk of the castle". And, unusually for the numbers, the beef was cooked to each baron's desire. Bertie likes his beef well done while the French and Italians want it rare. No doubt there is some meaning therein. This was served with boxty potato cake and red wine jus, along with a nice Jean-Marc Brocard Chablis 2001 and a Masi-Amarone Costasera Classico 1999 from the bilingual Irish/English menu.
"Let's do the simple things right" is O'Kane's mantra.
Meanwhile, think kindly of the people responsible for protocol - civil servants and diplomats - in all these situations. One unbreakable rule, for example, is that a head of state always takes precedence over a head of government. So, come May 1st when EU leaders gather here for the enlargement celebrations, woe betide the unfortunate who might usher Chirac into dinner before Schröder - as the most important are kept for last.
Whatever befalls us in the months to come, the thing to remember is that (self)perception is everything. Italian prime minister Berlusconi firmly believes that his presidency was a "triumph".