An Irishman's Diary

IT SEEMS to be the fate of Fianna Fáil’s junior government partners to be described in canine terms. The PDs, Labour, and now the Greens have alternated between being seen as “watchdogs” and “lapdogs” in their relations with the larger party, depending on how they have performed in the latest crisis.

But in light of Fianna Fáil’s controversial “back-patting” of Green TDs after this week’s confidence motion, it seems to me that another canine analogy might be more apt. Guide dogs for the blind is what I have mind. And this being so, I suggest the Government partners could learn something from guide dog etiquette.

There is a popular perception, after all, that Fianna Fáil is to some degree ethically impaired. We’ll leave the fairness of the perception to another day: I’m just saying this is the standard characterisation of the party, which has defined all its coalition arrangements to date.

Rightly or wrongly, the junior partners are expected to act as the Government’s conscience: steering it gently but firmly around open manholes, unprotected sewers, incidents involving unwarranted allegations about rivals running brothels, and whatever other moral hazards may arise.

Their perceived success in this role is crucial to the junior partners’ re-election prospects. And whether or not they accept the premise of the relationship, Fianna Fáil realists will know that it has served them well too, ensuring their survival as the almost permanent party of government.

This is why it might benefit both sides now to adopt guide-dog etiquette in their future relations.

The key thing for them to remember is that, as with an actual blind person and a dog, the senior and junior government partners are a “team”. Nothing should be allowed to undermined the safety of the team; even what in other circumstances might be considered normal human-dog interaction.

I don’t for a moment suggest that Green TDs should be henceforth have signs on their backs saying: “Working junior partner – do not pat”. But there should be a mutual understanding that the members of the smaller party will not be patted while on duty, especially in hazardous areas such as when passing through the Yes lobby during confidence motions on Willie O’Dea.

Other rules that might usefully be applied are as follows: Do not offer food to a junior party TD on duty. Do not tease, call, or otherwise distract the TD. Walk on the TD’s right-hand side at all times, keeping a careful distance. And finally, never, ever ask the junior party TD to sit, give its paw, fetch a thrown object, or play dead.

I CAN'T THINK WHY, but the Greens' post-confidence-motion crisis yesterday reminded me of an old television ad for Sure anti-perspirant. Maybe you remember it.

It featured a partially-clothed woman running through a jungle, drenched with sweat except for the deodorised “tick” on her back, which was still bone dry. The catchline was something about how Sure guaranteed “longer-lasting confidence”. Which is something the Greens could clearly do with too.

Not that a committed environmentalist would ever use an aerosol anti-perspirant. But even if he had used it, Sure would hardly have helped Eamon Ryan during his speech to the Dáil on Wednesday. His words spoke of confidence (although only just), while his demeanour suggested a marked lack of it. The tick he carried for Willie O’Dea’s continued participation in Government would have been damp even before he sat down again.

None of which was deliberate, of course. Yet, it probably served the Greens’ ends. Insofar as they had a strategy at the time, it was to vote Yes with as much obvious reluctance as possible. Which, combined with the patting incident, suggests to me yet another area where Dáil reform may be required.

Yes, I believe the time has come for the Ceann Comhairle to introduce guidelines on the use of unparliamentary body language. Up until now, all the emphasis has been on verbal insults. One TD cannot describe another as a “brat”, a “buffoon”, a “chancer”, a “communist”, a “corner boy”, and so on down the lexicon of abuse. Neither can they accuse each other of “lying”.

But body language, however eloquent, doesn't count. A member of the House can express doubt about the credibility of a speaker's claims in a wide variety of non-verbal ways. He can roll his eyes, knit his eyebrows, hold his head at a 45-degree angle while frowning, do an impression of Edvard Munch's The Scream, make gestures about the size of the speaker's nose, slide onto the floor clutching his sides with laughter, etc, without fear of rebuke.

Well, maybe the last-mentioned tactic would attract the intervention of the chair and the Dáil ushers. But apart from giving material to the sketch writers, the others would not.

And you can see how such silent forms of communication could be used in a way that might bring the House into disrepute. The tactic of appearing to be in Government and Opposition at the same time, as pioneered by Bertie Ahern, is growing ever more popular among ruling parties. My fear is that the way things are going, it’s only a matter of time before a dissident Government TD votes Yes in a confidence motion but claims afterwards that he had his fingers crossed behind his back at the time, so it didn’t count.