The Government recently published its annual assessment of risks facing the country, as well as accompanying submissions from the usual mix of lobby groups, concerned citizens and cranks on what they felt were the dangers to the wellbeing of the nation.
The submissions were published at the same time as the official document, which outlined that housing, Brexit and other issues were the main challenges facing the State.
One submission from a private citizen listed the “biggest risks to Ireland and its people”. The compilation started with “open borders” at number one, stretching to “deluded judges” to fill out the top 10.
An addendum to, among other problems, an “over-reliance on the property market, under-funded health system . . . under-funded gardaí” was number 11, this individual’s final fear for the future of the country: “Shane Ross.”
The fact that the Minister for Transport is now the butt of such jokes illustrates how far he has fallen in the eyes of the public. Even those in the Independent Alliance acknowledge he is politically toxic outside of his own Dublin Rathdown bailiwick.
Since entering government, Ross has been a hostage of his past, afraid of engaging with a system he railed against for so long
His local rivals, vying for his vote in arguably the most fickle constituency in the country, smell weakness.
Where once Ross strode south county Dublin as a poll topper, Josepha Madigan, the Minister for Culture, is now said by numerous sources to be the dominant figure.
Loner
Around government, he is seen as something of a loner who, most of the time, is unwilling to take advice on how to operate the machinery of the administration to get things done. The Government’s flagship capital plan was laden down with transport projects yet Ross managed to emerge with little, if any, credit.
Perhaps conscious that he could be remembered only as a passenger in Government, concerned with just a few personal hobby horses, the past week saw Ross attempt to return to the winning formula that propelled his political career.
He took to his old stomping ground of the Sunday Independent to take up the cudgels against his usual adversaries: “insiders . . . establishment . . . vested interests”.
His enemies – “the mandarins were going bonkers . . . the establishment blew a gasket” – were back again to hobble his proposed €1,000 annual childcare payment to grandparents.
Reading it brought to mind a famous front page of the fictional newspaper in The Simpsons, The Springfield Shopper, in which Grandpa Simpson is pictured waving his fist at the sky, accompanied by the headline: "Old Man Yells At Cloud."
One of Ross’s remarkable successes throughout his political career was casting himself as the plucky outsider, who railed against the system while spending 30 years in the Seanad representing Trinity College.
But to try to replay the greatest hits and expect the audience to applaud after two years in Cabinet was beyond even Ross’s undoubted talents of communication.
The day after publication, the self-styled outsider engaged in a level of bandwagon jumping most politicians have long since shied away from.
Welcoming home the Irish women’s hockey team from their successful run to the World Cup final, he used the stage that offered maximum publicity to announce €1.5 million of additional funding to help high performance sports prepare for the 2020 Olympics, a “significant” portion of which would go to the hockey team.
It drew unfavourable comparisons to Charles Haughey’s penchant for attaching himself to successful Irish sporting endeavours, such as Italia ‘90 and Stephen Roche’s victory in the Tour de France.
Tug of war
There are many other examples of the old Ross and the new Ross playing an uncomfortable tug of war.
The same Shane Ross who stood up at bank and company AGMs, hogging the microphone and haranguing the top table, now asks that he should be not asked about his own controversial policies at press conferences where he announces good news.
His recent troubles are only further proof that the tub-thumping provocateur has yet to reconcile himself to the Cabinet position he coveted, successfully cobbling together the Independent Alliance as a prospective junior Coalition partner to achieve that goal.
The most effective Independents enter government with a clear idea of what they want to achieve. Ross does not have to look far to see that his Alliance co-founder, Finian McGrath, married national policy – he is responsible for steering though the introduction of the UN convention on the rights of people with disabilities – with constituency priorities such as Beaumont Hospital.
Since entering government, Ross has been a hostage of his past, afraid of engaging with a system he railed against for so long and thus handicapping any chance at being an effective member of Government.
Under pressure now, he seeks to fall back on his jaded protests against “insiders”. But in seeking to play both sides – Minister one minute, outsider the next – he has left himself stranded in a political no-man’s land.
Other Independents who, like Ross once did, offer strident Opposition accept they will never be suited to government. The Minister for Transport has never reconciled his political past with the present.
In order to salvage his reputation, perhaps Ross needs to finally accept that he is now an insider, and use what power is at his disposal, rather than running away from it.