Ever since Jim McDaid was plucked from the relative obscurity of his Donegal practice by Charles Haughey in the 1989 general election, he has been on a political roller-coaster.
And the Minister's muddled response to the controversy involving the sexual abuse of children at swimming clubs is only the latest chapter in a continuing saga of uncertainty. On the basis of his performance in recent weeks, he could scarcely be described as a safe pair of hands.
The Letterkenny GP was an absolute innocent, knowing little of local politics and nothing of smoke-filled Dublin back rooms when he was head-hunted by Fianna Fail to enter national politics.
But his was a fresh face and a liberal voice in a highly conservative party which desperately needed to attract new voters.
The degree of that desperation was evident when Fianna Fail was forced to break from a "core value" and enter coalition government with the Progressive Democrats. In that convulsion Dr McDaid was seen as one of Fianna Fail's new men and the party leadership was prepared to indulge him.
On local radio, he was forthright in his support for contraception and the provision of divorce. And later, when the decriminalisation of homosexuality and legislation on abortion information and the right to travel were produced, he stood by his principles when many of his colleagues engaged in backsliding.
A decent man who comes from a caring background, he co-founded the Donegal Hospice before entering politics. Deeply interested in sport, he captained the UCG soccer team and acted as medical adviser to the Donegal senior GAA team.
A good-looking man and convivial company, he enjoyed the social whirl. Two years after entering Leinster House, Dr McDaid appeared destined for great things when Mr Haughey nominated him as minister for defence.
Fine Gael objected to the nomination on the basis of a photograph which showed Dr McDaid standing on the steps of the Four Courts with a republican, James Pius Clarke, whose extradition had been successfully opposed. It was crude politics, which concentrated on appearance rather than substance. But it was effective.
An unsuccessful Fianna Fail heave against the leadership of Charles Haughey had created the ministerial vacancy, destabilised the coalition government and led to the sacking of Albert Reynolds and Padraig Flynn. In the welter of bloodletting, Fine Gael produced its photograph. The Progressive Democrats lost their nerve. And a veto was placed on the appointment.
Dr McDaid emerged as The Minister for Defence That Never Was. He attracted enormous sympathy, within and outside Fianna Fail. It became obvious that he was, in no sense, a Provo fellow-traveller. But the damage had been done.
By 1995, when Fianna Fail opposed abortion legislation on travel and information, Dr McDaid confessed himself a hypocrite in the Dail when he obeyed the party whip rather than follow his conscience. It was the kind of eccentric behaviour party leaders detest.
Because of his personal courage - and his unfortunate ministerial disappointment - he has been indulged by many of his colleagues. Questions about his application to the task in hand were overlooked: plots were not his long suit and he was regarded as somewhat politically naive.
Passed over by Bertie Ahern when he formed his front bench, Dr McDaid's opportunity for advancement came with the resignation of Maire Geoghegan-Quinn. A few months later, he was appointed Minister for Tourism, Sport and Local Development in the Fianna Fail Progressive Democrats government.
It was a camel of a Department, designed under pressure by a Taoiseach whose attempt to have Ray Burke share the Department of Foreign Affairs with David Andrews ended in a shambles. But people were happy for Dr McDaid and wished him well. The challenge appeared to be well within his capabilities and the road ahead was rising. But nobody had allowed for the pre-election commitments made by David Andrews.
In opposition, the current Minister for Foreign Affairs had made an issue of the shamrock as a national emblem and had promised to restore it to its former glory on the fuselages of Aer Lingus jets. The same distaste applied to the new Bord Failte logo.
Within months of taking office, Dr McDaid was deeply embroiled in political controversy as he moved to restore the shamrock to its former simplicity.
A £3 million cross-Border tourist marketing campaign was shredded as he took unilateral action. Bord Failte was to have its own logo while the Northern Ireland Tourist Board would go its separate way.
The Irish News accused him of undermining confidence in the commitment of the Republic to partnership and of having "destroyed a small but potent symbol of a new Ireland built on partnership". The Minister covered up and withdrew with a bloody nose.
During that time, Dr McDaid caused dismay within Government when he rounded on the American Fruit of the Loom company in blunt and unministerial language.
As a boardroom dispute raged within the company and the future of the Donegal plant appeared uncertain, Dr McDaid described it as a "fly-by-night" company and suggested that some members of its senior management could not be trusted or believed.
Government sources went into fire-brigade mode and said Dr McDaid had "got a bit carried away, perhaps unwisely". Fruit of the Loom stayed. And the Minister was provided with a full-time media adviser.
When the controversy over the sexual abuse of children in Dublin swimming clubs broke, his response was one of concern. Wanting to do the right thing, he announced the establishment of an investigation, with full parental consultation and involvement. He also suspended financial aid to the Irish Amateur Swimming Association.
It wasn't enough. The solicitor for some parents, David Coleman, demanded a full sworn inquiry. Within days, as pressure built on the Minister and on the Coalition Government a wobble set in. By last Sunday, the telephone lines were humming between the Taoiseach and the Tanaiste. And the possibility of a sworn judicial inquiry emerged.
On Monday Mary Harney spoke guardedly of a judicial inquiry being the most likely option. And while Dr McDaid held his peace, Government sources confirmed that a sworn inquiry was on the way.
By Wednesday the Government's engines were in full reverse as the implications of granting such an inquiry were teased out at Cabinet. With billions of pounds at hazard because of hearing claims within the Defence Forces, the prospect of becoming enmeshed in a myriad of sworn inquiries and litigation involving child sex abuse caused nearpanic.
Suddenly the sheer size of the problem was recognised. A Government committed to the mandatory reporting of child abuse suddenly awoke to the fact that 1,000 cases were pending in the Eastern Health Board area alone. Ministers broke and ran for cover. And Dr McDaid was left to face the media.
A Government statement carried the announcement. A three-week inquiry, conducted in private by Dr Roderick Murphy SC would deal with the matter. The Government was not, and would not become, directly implicated by appointing a judicial tribunal.
Dr McDaid put the best face he could on it. He recalled the benefits of the Goldenbridge and Madonna House inquiries. He said some parents had objected to a judicial inquiry. And he asked all persons to co-operate with the private inquiry and to give it a chance. It was weak and untypical.
But the Cabinet had spoken. The State could not afford a multitude of sworn inquiries into the dark underbelly of Irish life.
Having gone part of the way towards a sworn inquiry, Dr McDaid is now left in a no-win situation. The sense of dither and flap, especially when public emotions are roused, does not impress.
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