ECONOMICS:The policymaking system in Ireland is too sealed off from the scholarly community

A CONFERENCE on economic policy this week provided momentary distraction from the euro nightmare. Curious though it may seem, at this time of all times, it triggered a moment of idealistic speculation on how we might better govern our affairs.

I dream that one day all civil servants will break out of their departmental silos and emerge blinking into the sunlit uplands of policy seminars and workshops. There, they will soak up evidence, engage constructively with scholars and thinkers and bring their own practical knowledge to bear on experts’ policy proposal.

They will return to their desks, and, fired by a fierce urgency, they will radically reform under-delivering programmes and boldly champion initiatives that help the citizens they serve.

I dream that policy wonks will one day be employed in government departments and agencies, designing and evaluating policies on a project basis and on longer periods of secondment. In this happy place, civil servants will embrace the wonks, making them feel valued and cherished. They will not seek to exclude them, hide relevant data or be sullen and resentful.

I dream that one day ministers will do their jobs on a full-time basis, either as politicians who are obliged by an amended constitution to give up their Dáil seats if they take ministerial office or as technocrats fully accountable to the Oireachtas. In this promised land ministers will arrive at their offices first thing in the morning, and – unbelievable as it may sound to Irish ears – stay there all day doing their jobs.

They will not skip out to their constituencies to cut ribbons or spend hours slumped on the front bench in the Dáil chamber making up numbers.

Alas, the promised land of rigorous, evidence-based policymaking is not at hand in Ireland but a baby step in its direction may have been taken this week. On Wednesday, at the ESRI, well-thought out reform proposals on policy areas, such as employment and innovation, were made at a half-day conference on how the economy can be restored to health.

What marked the event out was not the quality and relevance of the papers, timely though they were, but the interaction with officialdom. After each session a senior public servant gave considered feedback, reaction and insights.

The event was open to the public, but held on the basis that the discussions were not attributed to the speakers (known as the “Chatham House” rule after a London think tank of the same name where officials and politicians are encouraged to share insights that they would not feel able to share if they were speaking on the record). Holding the sessions on this basis was designed to allow the public servant participants speak freely.

In the event, the mandarins did not induce gasps of incredulity from the audience with what they had to say but it was a useful exercise nonetheless. And with three more such events planned, it may herald a change in the degree of interaction between the policy machine and those qualified to inform it.

In most European countries constructive engagement of this kind is routine, but not in Ireland where there is an unusual separation between officialdom and the scholarly community.

Despite vast amounts of taxpayers’ money being spent on creating the intellectual infrastructure of a modern economy and society in universities, civil servants do not habitually elicit the input of outside experts. Worse, they often advise ministers against seeking such help, fearful that their power and influence would be eroded or that the limits of their own knowledge could be shown up by some clever clogs with a PhD.

But bureaucratic politics – a constant everywhere – cannot explain the very unusual degree to which the policymaking system seals itself from outside influence. In our nearest neighbour, for instance, special advisers (known around Whitehall as spads) have proliferated in recent times, and in particular since New Labour came to power in 1997. This has happened despite the resistance of the civil service.

In most continental European countries, there is a long tradition of ministers having a cabinet of advisers. This is reflected in the European Commission where each commissioner has a cabinet of seven people to drive his or her agenda and ensure that the career officials work to the agenda.

Despite the continued tendency to look to Britain for most things and the direct experience of members of the Irish political class of the benefits of the Brussels system, the day-to-day management of government here looks more like the Whitehall of the 1970s and 80s depicted in the comedy Yes Minister. Ministers, for example, have just one policy adviser, just as the hapless Jim Hacker had when running his department of administrative affairs. And this despite the growing complexity of the business of government.

The absence of change in how government is done is explained by the same general inertia that has led disastrously to inaction in what government does – from managing the public finances, to driving the competitiveness agenda and regulating banks. This, in turn, can be attributed only to institutional design.

The electoral system produces a political class that “delivers for individual constituencies but provides almost no incentive to govern well nationally. This is compounded by the part-time status of ministers, who, along with the daunting challenge of running a government department are full-time parliamentarians and constituency workers too. Is it any wonder that so little change is driven from the top?

It often takes rupture to bring about radical change. This week, rupture of the most serious kind seems frighteningly possible.