We see the politicians, but where's the vision?

To help people improve their lives, psychotherapists sometimes employ a powerful tool called creative visualisation. During the Fine Gael leadership battle, I began to wonder whether those who aspire to lead us ought not to encourage us to engage in this as a society. In creative visualisation, you construct an image of the future, not a daydream but a picture of where you want to be: in a certain kind of work, certain kinds of relationships, in a certain kind of harmony with the world around you. You might just visualise yourself in a room surrounded by what you care for most: your children, your books, your music.

That's all you do. Where the power comes from is that in constructing this vision, you have engaged in a deep process of inclusion and exclusion, of deciding what matters to you. You have defined how you want to live. Having done this, life decisions that would formerly have been difficult seem, extraordinarily, to take care of themselves. It becomes apparent which route will bring you more readily to your goal.

During the contest to lead Fine Gael, members of the party often defined themselves in negative terms. Their greatest claim for our support appeared to be that they offered an alternative to Fianna Fail. They did not offer us a vision of the future.

The greatest leaders instinctively seem to recognise the power of creative visualisation. This, for example, was how John F. Kennedy engaged the American people in his inaugural speech in 1961:

"Let us explore the stars, conquer the deserts, eradicate disease, tap the ocean depths, and encourage the arts and commerce. All this will not be finished in the first 100 days. Nor will it be finished in the first 1,000 days, nor in the lifetime of this administration, nor even perhaps in our lifetime on this planet. But let us begin.

"And so, my fellow Americans: ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country."

When today we remember President Kennedy, we recall the images of his death in Dallas, his ill-judged attempt to invade Cuba, a dalliance with Marilyn Monroe, a deepening engagement in Vietnam. We tend to forget the thousands of young Americans who heard him and signed up to join the Peace Corps and work overseas, the way in which he could evoke idealism and hope. He offered inspirational leadership.

Older people today decry the values of younger Irish people, the so-called Celtic cubs. They worry about their materialism, their lack of political awareness, their acceptance as a given that society will employ them lucratively, their hedonism. But who among their elders is offering them leadership?

The dominant political generation grew to adulthood all too aware of our stumbling efforts at establishing an independent state, our shaming emigration, the depression of living with the Northern conflict. Older Irish people fear optimism.

"Let's not tempt fate," we say when someone expresses hope.

With a few honourable exceptions such as Mary Robinson, political leaders have been afraid to offer inspirational leadership. Too often in Irish history, the cynics have had the last laugh. In their can-do world, younger Irish people don't understand this.

THE generation who have come to adulthood in the 1990s don't remember mass unemployment or emigration. They anticipate peace, not war, in Northern Ireland.

Charlie McCreevy has his finger on the pulse in this respect. When he defied the EU Commission over his reckless Budget, he was expressing a new Irish confidence.

Champagne Charlie is an optimist. His vision is simple: gather ye roses while ye may. It is such a limited vision. A courageous political leader could seek to harness the confidence of this new generation, to enlist their energy and self-belief not in living for themselves and for today but in building a better society, a state which plays a leadership role in Europe. McCreevy's Budget widened the gap between rich and poor, and its popularity might lead pessimists to conclude that a majority wants a more unequal society. Yet opinion polls show that our chief concerns are healthcare, housing, inequality, inflation, drugs and crime.

An inspirational leader might unleash the power of a shared creative vision of the future, lift us from the pessimism of expecting Irish society to become ever more materialistic and dog-eat-dog, reassure us that if we take less immediately self-interested decisions now, we and our children will benefit by living in a more humane way. We have reversed emigration and unharnessed great energies to create wealth. It would not be tempting the fates for us to decide to build an excellent and fair health service, efficient public transport, affordable housing and childcare, a clean environment, first-class education and greater equality in incomes - in short, a civilised society. Were we to share that vision, we might find sacrifices, like forgoing tax cuts, easier to accept.

When he emerged last week as leader of Fine Gael and sketched the outlines of a new social contract, Michael Noonan showed he understood the need to offer vision. His impetus may galvanise an alarmed Labour Party to present its social democratic message in more compelling terms.

How heartening if we, the disaffected and fragmented electorate, were offered not competing slogans like "it's payback time" but a chance to choose a vision which might truly engage us.

mawren@irish-times.ie