The stubbornness of the electorate has long perplexed those advocating a leftright divide in Irish politics. The failure of any other party to match the strength and pervasiveness of Fianna Fail's support base has meant in the past that Fine Gael became dependent on small, left-wing groupings, which dragged that party somewhat reluctantly in their direction. Thus we had Garret FitzGerald and the various Fine Gael/Labour coalitions of the 1970s and 1980s. Today, although Irish politics has almost entirely shrugged off the pseudo-differences arising from its tribal beginnings, it has failed to acquire the ideological mix which once we were told would transform our political landscape. Instead we have a moral dichotomy, sustained by the wishful thinking of the politically disappointed.
Garret FitzGerald, as well as representing what there was of a social democratic ethos within Fine Gael, also suggested himself as the moral antithesis to the menace of Charles Haughey. This created the beginnings of a confluence, unique to Ireland, between cryptosocialism and an oddly Catholic form of pseudomoralism. While elsewhere socialism was revealing itself as morally and politically bankrupt, what existed of it here was enabled to continue presenting itself as morally superior to the alternative.
But a number of factors coincided to frustrate the march of leftism, even under the guise of moral superiority: the fact that the electorate refused to buy it; the emergence of a possible alternative partner for Fine Gael, this time from the right; the collapse of socialism in the Eastern bloc; and the sudden success of capitalism Irish-style.
Fianna Fail, which had adhered all along to a pragmatic blend of free marketeering and state capitalism, managed to press the right buttons on the economy, or at least to create the impression that it had. This raised the possibility of that party shoring up its position of pre-eminence - eroding since the early 1980s - and conceivably becoming capable of achieving government once again on its own.
THIS underscored the urgency for a new form of divide in Irish politics, to replace the elusive left-right split. That new divide would be between "good" and "bad". The bones of it were already there in the dichotomy between the respective personalities of FitzGerald and Haughey, but the projected model was in need of considerable refinement and development. It is no coincidence that tribunal culture erupted in Ireland almost immediately in the wake of communism's collapse in the east, at a time when coalitions became the norm.
The new model was fundamentally media-driven. This was a complex process, but it was propelled by three basic factors. First, most media people came from a class, or had arrived in one, which was deeply hostile to Fianna Fail. This hostility was partly centred on the national question, but also had an aesthetic element relating to mode of speech, grasp of table manners and hue of neck. The second factor was the political allegiance of many of those manning the fourth estate, a vastly disproportionate number having allegiance to left-wing parties, and in particular to the entity formerly known as the Workers' Party. It is a strange commentary on Irish life that, even as that party's electoral relevance was disappearing down the plughole, its adherents and supporters were emerging as some of our most powerful media figures.
The third factor was that many members of the pre-existing media ascendancy were deeply attached to Fine Gael, the only real support for Fianna Fail residing in the doomed Irish Press. There emerged, therefore, the most extraordinary symmetry of ambition between the old guard who wanted their blueshirt muckers to prosper, and the new Sticky apparatchiks who wanted whatever it was they imagined they wanted now.
The strategy was to unearth and point up every conceivable flaw in the integrity of Fianna Fail, while ignoring similar flaws in other parties. The only time Labour or the Progressive Democrats would be subjected to close moral scrutiny was when they were in coalition with Fianna Fail.
THE objective was to put Fianna Fail out of business and put into power coalitions which would then feel - with considerable justification - that they owed their positions of power to their friends in the media, and would therefore do as they were bid. Unfortunately, due to the obduracy of the electorate, the main strategy worked but once - the unelected Rainbow Coalition of 1994-97, during which term the pseudo-moralistic campaign was suspended and potential scandals just as serious as those for which Fianna Fail had been lambasted were airbrushed out of sight.
But a secondary element of the strategy was the effective control of FF-led coalitions by means of protectionist threats against the junior partner. The main instrument in this process was the public opinion poll, tailored and timed to achieve maximum effect. This is why, for the past decade, similar social policies have been advanced by all governments, regardless of configuration. It is also why Charlie McCreevy has come in for such stick: his ministry is uniquely free from such interference.
In effect, we have had an invisible coup by forces which have been comprehensively rejected when, if ever, they have presented themselves at the polls. But because they have controlled the mechanisms of public discourse, there is virtually no channel in which the truth could be asserted. And because of the petty venality of a small number of politicians, we are powerless to reassert their continuing moral blackmail. It is the perfect crime.
jwaters@irish-times.ie