Despite revelations about the payment of constituency funds to Celia Larkin, Fianna Fáil activists are united in their support for Bertie Ahern's leadership of the party.
The committee room on the upper floor is spartan. It has a table, a couple of rows of chairs, and blank walls. When you flick on the switch, a fluorescent tube bathes the room in cold light. It doesn't exactly give a "come hither" aura, unlike the public house on the floor below it, with its glowing fire, low lighting and plasma screen beaming out live soccer.
The space is clearly one designed for function and not pleasure. The only clue to the function is the stencilled letters on the small window. When the room is darkened, the headlights from passing cars project the legend onto the ceiling. 'THOMAS BYRNE TD' and 'FIANNA FÁIL'.
It's amazing how conversation - especially animated political debate - will bring bold colour to the dullest room or the quietest night. It is Wednesday night in Slane, Co Meath, and the main street of the village is deserted. Downstairs, a small crowd congregates in the Village Inn. But upstairs the committee room explodes into life as grassroots Fianna Fáil lays into Fine Gael leader Enda Kenny with a vigour that brings back nostalgic memories of Roy Keane and Saipan.
"It's as simple as this. The tribunal is not being allowed to do its business," fumes Dan O'Connell, the director of elections for Meath East, a three-seat constituency which has only been in existence since last year. "Brian Cowen pointed out to Enda Kenny that it is not able to assess the evidence and not able to adjudicate on it. He has nothing else to talk about at all."
Adrian O'Donnell, another activist, pipes up: "Bertie has seen off John Bruton, Michael Noonan, Dick Spring, Ruairí Quinn, Pat Rabbitte and he'll see off Enda Kenny. Trying to get Bertie out will not increase his standing. If Fine Gael did their job right they would have another leader by now, not just a fellow who goes on and on about this as if he has a bee in his bonnet."
Welcome to grassroots Fianna Fáil. Half a dozen people have gathered in this room along with Thomas Byrne, the young solicitor who's been the local TD here since last summer.
Byrne is garrulous and has the easy, open manner of most TDs. But it's clear who is the dominant backroom personality here. Dan O'Connell, from Ashbourne, is a born committee chair or organiser. With the weight of his long experience, he half-scolds people for not having tasks done or for lacking focus.
It's more than a year away, but already O'Connell, Byrne and their troops are walking in the foothills of next year's local elections. O'Connell is giving pep talks and setting out timetables for prospective candidates. Here too are Betty Tallon, the long-serving secretary of the local Slane cumann, and its chairman, Wayne Harding, who also owns the pub downstairs.
This is the infantry of the soldiers of destiny. And there are few places where they are more determined or dyed-in-the-wool than in Co Meath.
In advance of last year's election, Meath was changed from a five-seater to two three-seat constituencies. National commentators predicted that Fianna Fáil would take two or maybe three out of six seats in the county. In the event, the party took four, including a facile victory for Byrne over Dominic Hannigan of Labour, who had been widely predicted as a shoo-in for the last seat in Meath East. The theory about 2007 was that there was a "ground war" that didn't appear on the radar of the national media. And it featured one of Fianna Fáil's most under-rated and under-reported assets - the organisation's huge force of volunteers.
Last year, for example, it was argued the media preoccupation with Bertie Ahern's finances was a symptom of a disconnect with the real Ireland, which didn't really care about his dig-outs or loans or the eight grand he got in Manchester. Fianna Fáil's "ground war" reminded voters about roads and shops and houses and jobs and pump-primed a message that it was the only party that was capable of delivering those goodies into the future.
"We don't look at what the national papers are saying down here," says Byrne. "We look at the front page of the Meath Chronicle and the Drogheda Independent. And I can tell you there are no stories about Bertie and the tribunal there."
WHEN FIANNA FÁILwas being founded, Eamon de Valera decided that it would have a cell structure, one local unit for every polling booth in the State.
Over 80 years, that has evolved into more than 3,000 cumainn in the 43 constituencies, some with as few as 10 people involved. In each rural constituency, there are four comhairlí ceantair (district councils) and a comhairle dáilcheantair (constituency council). Overarching this is the national executive, roughly representative of all strands of the party. That's 65,000 members. A lot of people forget that FF is a party that hasn't abandoned bottom-up democracy.
These grassroots activists share certain characteristics. The first is that they are all volunteers. "We joined Fianna Fáil because we wanted to do a good turn for people," says Chris Cassidy, from Kilmainhamwood at the north end of Meath East.
They are the eyes and ears of the local politicians, making them aware of issues or local problems. They also spend time recruiting new members, raising money for the party and canvassing during elections. Between elections, they meet less frequently, but nearing elections, they will be out every single evening.
The second characteristic is that they are unquestionably loyal to the organisation. And the third is that they are 100 per cent supportive of the leader, no matter who that is. That loyalty reached extraordinary proportions during the de Valera and Haughey eras.
And not for a moment will any of them accept that the payment of £30,000 to Celia Larkin was any less run-of-the-mill than a traffic jam on the M50.
"The organisation is 100 per cent behind him. And come the next election, we will be 100 per cent behind him," says Wayne Harding.
Betty Tallon's take on it is: "The only problem we have with Bertie here in Slane is that people say to me they are fed up with it. They also say 'Poor Bertie'."
It's not just here. Call Fianna Fáil grassroots supporters throughout the State without warning and the answers are the same. Monotonously the same. Cumann members. Town councillors. Country councillors. National Executive members. All of them as "on message" as Tony Blair's obedient parliamentary party during his first term in 1997.
No matter what is thrown at them, they respond in the same manner. The Celia payments and his conversion of political donations for personal use raise no questions about his fitness for office. Why? Because it was personal. Because Ahern's not in it for the money. Because he was doing a good turn. Because of his marital problems.
No, they are not displaying a blind loyalty to him contrary to the facts, they claim. Why? Ahern, in their eyes, has been the country's most successful taoiseach. The personal matters don't distract from his achievement.
No, it's not time for him to go, they say. This is a witch-hunt by Fine Gael and the national media. Ordinary people are not exercised in the same way. Both were wide of the mark last year. And both are wrong again this year.
Ann Ahern is a member of the Eamon de Valera Cumann in Carlow and a member of the town council. "Nobody is talking to me about it. It's not an issue mentioned at all," she says.
Or Cllr Clifford Kelly in Bailieborough in Co Cavan: "For the ordinary rank and file, all of these things have been personal financial matters for the Taoiseach. The tribunal should not be delving into his personal business. I can put my hand on my heart. Within the organisation in Cavan, it's not damaged us in any way."
Gearoid Lohan from North Kildare, a member of the national executive, does say that some of the allegations, especially the Celia Larkin payment leave him a "little uncomfortable". But he goes on to say: "Nobody has bought Bertie Ahern as a saint. We know that he is a hard worker and has not been in [ politics] for personal gain. And that image has not changed. It has not come up at the doors at all."
Or John Joe Higgins, the chairman of the Comhairle Dáil Ceanntar in Galway West: "The whole tribunal thing. People are sick to the teeth of it at this stage. It's going on for so long. It started out in relation to planning and has gone down alleyways and sideways since. We are just sick of it."
THE CONSISTENCYof the message and its vehemence is everywhere. The loyalty to the organisation and - by extension - its leader, you suspect, is written into the double helix of dyed-in-the-wool FF supporters. And it's a deeply emotional trait. That was most starkly evident during the Haughey era, when the then Fianna Fáil leader had a Hill 16 crowd of supporters wherever he went, especially during the series of heaves against him in the 1980s.
Why that level of fidelity? It's partly to do with familiarity. Every activist has had face time with him. In 14 years as Fianna Fáil leader, there doesn't seem to be a hamlet in the country that he hasn't stopped at during his constant criss-crossing of the country (a trait he shares with Haughey).
Publicly, so far, there has only been one dissenting voice among the thousands of supporters. Cllr Michael Cahill from Glenbeigh in South Kerry says that, with all the new allegations coming out of the tribunal, perhaps now is the time that Bertie Ahern should name the date for stepping down. "A new leader should be given an opportunity to initiate new policies and to stamp their authority," he says. "All great leaders must retire. Bertie Ahern has been a great leader. But Celia and other matters have created a problem for him."
It's instructive, however, that no other voices within Fianna Fáil chime with those sentiments. Here, you suspect, the exception is proving the rule.
"Nobody has bought Bertie Ahern as a saint. We know that he is a hard worker and has not been in politics for personal gain. And that image has not changed. It has not come up at the doors at all
