Young people are interested in politics but they're bewildered and bored by the things politicians and journalists argue about. GUBU? The Arms Trial? Let's move on, says Roddy O' Sullivan
Is it any wonder so many young people see politics and politicians as having no relevance to their lives? Consider what the Minister of State for Youth Affairs, 49-year-old Willie O'Dea, thinks might persuade young people to vote.
This week he spent tens of thousands of euros in taxpayers' money on newspaper ads intended to boost the turnout of first time voters. Their star? A 35-year-old soccer player playing his retirement testimonial that very night.
"Young people have an important role to play for Ireland" read the ad in Monday's newspapers, which was sponsored by the Department of Education and signed by Niall Quinn.
Quinn told young voters: "This is a very important year for Ireland, with a World Cup and a General Election. Young people have a major role to play for our country - by getting out and voting. And us older fellas will also try to do our bit - in the World Cup!"
The ad may have read like it was aimed at slow primary school kids, but for all that, it accurately reflected the esteem in which young adults are held in Irish political culture.
Take our flagship political discussion programme, Questions and Answers.
There have been 85 guests on the programme so far this year. Not one of them was under 30 years of age.
Of the 166 TDs in Dáil Éireann, only two are under 30 - Simon Coveney (29) and Denis Naughten (28). Both are the sons of deceased public representatives.
It's not much healthier at grassroots level. When Michael Gallagher and Michael Marsh studied the membership of Fine Gael, they found that just 4 per cent were under 25 and that a whopping 70 per cent of the party's members were over 45 years of age. They stressed that the age profile appeared to be no younger in Fianna Fáil.
While political scientists have yet to study the age profile of political commentators in the media, political debate in newspapers, radio and TV can be fairly impenetrable to many young voters.
Many pundits still litter their commentaries with knowing references to GUBU (20 years ago) and the Jack Lynch landslide (25 years ago), despite the fact that there are thousands of people eligible to vote in this general election who were born in 1984.
But then, we live in a country where the Arms Trial can still make front page news more than 30 years after it ended.
Companies who spend millions of euros researching the attitudes of 18 to 25-year-olds have made ridiculing politicians a marketing strategy.
The Coca Cola corporation's latest bus shelter advertising campaign for the soft drink Sprite - timed to coincide with the election - uses the slogan "Anyone who actually wants to be a politician shouldn't be allowed". The mobile phone company O2 is currently marketing its phones as being "cheaper to buy than a politician at election time".
Even on kids TV, politics is regarded as beneath contempt.
Dustin the Turkey is "running" in his fourth election campaign on Network 2's children's programme Den 2. His campaign slogan? "At least I'm honest about lying". His main policy platform? Instant planning permission for anyone who slips him a €100 bribe.
Against such a prevailing anti-political culture, politicians were always going to have a tough time making themselves heard.
Just one mainstream politician seems able to escape the ghetto in which our society, and more particularly its younger members, has placed politicians.
Bertie Ahern - or someone damn close to him - is alone in Irish politics in knowing how to communicate to an audience uninterested in politics.
Bertie is father to two young women who have had to grow up in the public limelight - Georgina and Cecilia. Even the most old-fashioned dads pick up on some aspect of their teenage kids' cultural landscape.
What secondary school student hasn't been mortified by one of their parents singing the chorus of the cheesiest song in the charts? Even the Queen Mum did impersonations of Ali G to impress Princes William and Harry.
The Taoiseach's understanding of how to communicate across the generation gap is more acute than the average father's. Often, his photo opportunities are of a kind normally associated with pop stars.
The most famous examples have been with Sly Stallone, Arnie Schwarzenneger and his daughter's boyfriend Westlife's Nicky Byrne. But during the Bank Holiday weekend he was at it again - striking a moody pose on Sandymount beach in his shirtsleeves - back turned to the camera, jacket slung over his shoulder. The image would have looked at home on an album cover.
Though toe-curlingly inarticulate when it comes to trying to express himself through the spoken word,
Bertie is now so good at communicating a "pop" image he doesn't need the other celebrities in the photo any more.
As Boyzone manager Louis Walsh remarked in this paper last week: "He could be the lead singer in my band". As if on cue, former Boyzone lead singer Ronan Keating came out a few days later and said he was backing Bertie.
Is there any hope for the other party leaders' images?
Michael Noonan, Ruairí Quinn and Trevor Sargent are all more passionate about their ideas and less compromised by their pasts than Ahern - qualities that would normally attract new voters.
But to many young people, Michael Noonan comes across as that know-it-all uncle they never really liked, Ruairí Quinn sounds like he never left the 1960s and Trevor Sargent is just way too like that Irish teacher who wore the fáinne and the tweed jacket to school every day.
Bertie Ahern may have signed blank cheques for Charles Haughey, given an amnesty to tax cheats and appointed Liam Lawlor to the Dáil ethics committee. But to someone who was born in the 1980s, that's all pretty ancient history.
Until the other party leaders learn how to use the modern media to communicate their ideas and personalities to a broader range of young voters, Bertie's past will never really hurt him, especially with those too young to remember it.