There is no comparison between the Taoiseach and his beleaguered UK counterpart, writes BREDA O'BRIEN.
PERHAPS BRIAN Cowen permitted himself a wry smile when he realised that one of his first official engagements would be with Gordon Brown, given that the Irish and British media had been so busily making comparisons between the two leaders. Some commentators were merely suggesting that, like Brown, Cowen would face stormy times ahead, given the downturn in the world economy. Others went much further, drawing all sort of comparisons between the two men. Comparisons are often odious and, in this case, are even more inaccurate than usual.
The late Robin Cook once described Brown as having a face like "a wet winter's morning in Fife". Cowen may have a reputation for being abrasive and scathing in political debate, but within his party he is regarded with affection and respect.
It may be a challenge to project that more likeable Cowen to the world outside the party faithful, but the way in which he was visibly moved in the Dáil while mentioning his father and grandfather will not have harmed one whit. Nor will the fact that he broke with precedent and went to the Áras surrounded by three generations of the women in his family.
One cannot imagine Brown contributing a ballad to a charity album, but it takes no stretch of the imagination at all to visualise Cowen as part of a singing session in a pub. After all, he was reared in one. Brown is "a son of the manse", and credits his social conscience to the fact that his minister father was so close to the poor who constantly sought his help.
Cowen grew up in a house where lots of people came knocking, too, and had sworn off entering a life of politics when his father's untimely death intervened. Since then, he has been widely acknowledged as a highly competent politician, and an able minister.
At times, he seemed to rate survival more highly than making a difference, for example in the Department of Health, which he nicknamed Angola because of the amount of political landmines lying around. Politically, it was astute to keep his head down. From the point of view of public service, it was less than laudable. In his new role, when it comes to issues like climate change, keeping the head down will simply not be an option.
However, perhaps he was remembering that time spent tiptoeing through a minefield, when he left Mary Harney where she was in health. Whatever the reason, making Mary Coughlan Tánaiste, and Brian Lenihan Minister for Finance, was a shrewd move. Both are potential future leaders, and are being given valuable experience without making either the anointed one, a position that the new Taoiseach will know has its disadvantages. Whatever slight discomfort being the heir apparent brought to Cowen pales in comparison with Brown's long, long wait for power. Cowen was in no rush to take over from Bertie, and remained completely loyal to him. Brown provided the press with so many photos where he was literally glowering over Tony Blair's shoulder that they stopped using them, so great a cliche had they become. One Downing Street aide compared his relationship with Blair to that of "the mad relative in the attic, constantly banging on the floor with a saucepan".
In contrast, the handover of power in Ireland was probably the smoothest in five decades, since Seán Lemass took over from Éamon de Valera. Bertie handed his heir a united party, which was more than could be said of the transition from Lemass to Jack Lynch, from Lynch to Charles Haughey, or from Haughey to Albert Reynolds. Reynolds began with a bloodbath in the cabinet that left deep wounds and destroyed much of his support.
Cowen has been much more canny in that he has made significant changes, but the only person with a real grievance against him will be Tom Kitt, who is retiring at the next election. The new Taoiseach has been accused of neglecting Dublin, which of course no leader can afford to do. However, he has to put his stamp on his new role, and creating a so-called culchie Cabinet is one way of doing that. The delighted choruses of the Offaly Rover on the plinth signalled real joy, a quality in short supply in Fianna Fáil in recent times.
Of course, there are many hoping that the joy will be short lived. Many of the comparisons to Brown fall into the category of wishful thinking. In a media dominated by ABFF (anybody but Fianna Fáil) types, it would be a dream come true to see Cowen come a cropper in the spectacular fashion that Brown has, over issues like Northern Rock, the wipe-out in the local elections, and Boris Johnson's victory in the London mayoral election.
As someone who did not appear too unhappy in the shadow of the master, it will be interesting to see whether our new Taoiseach will allow his formidable intellect and undoubted ability full play. He has entered a territory that will make Angola look like a playground and, this time, there will be nowhere to hide.
Will the Lisbon Treaty be Cowen's Boris Johnson? As someone who is no major fan of the treaty, it pains me to say that, if anyone can sell it, he probably can. Bertie was so embattled during the last election campaign, answering or rather avoiding giving answers to awkward questions, that much of the success of the election campaign could be attributed to Cowen.
The reason that we are sick of looking at Fianna Fáil is because survival in encoded in their DNA. It remains to be seen whether Cowen's deep immersion in that gene pool will be sufficient to ensure the party's continued dominance in a time of economic turbulence, and voter anger.
Harold Macmillan once drawled, when asked what was most likely to blow governments off course: "Events, dear boy, events." There are many commentators fervently wishing for events. However, not even the most dedicated ABFF-er will be expecting that Enda Kenny will have an opportunity any time soon to repeat to Fianna Fáil David Cameron's jibe to New Labour, that is, that they have a loser, not a leader.