There is nothing more commanding than Biffo with his back to the wall when his future and the future of his party at stake, writes MIRIAM LORD
CRISIS MANAGEMENT. Confidence. Clarity.
It’s comforting to know Ireland has a steady hand at the helm and competence in the wheelhouse at this most difficult time.
Doubtless the IMF and EU boys are penning glowing reports back to base. That’s if they can steady their biros long enough between the laughter.
What must they be thinking? If it’s anything like the rest of the country, their thoughts are far too distressing to dwell upon.
The only shred of certainty to emerge yesterday from the people who purport to run this country is that the panto season isn’t over yet.
And that’s not funny anymore.
(Unless you happen to be a member of the Opposition. They’re riveted to the cheap seats, laughing like drains.) The Taoiseach has tabled a motion of confidence in himself. And he is unanimous with himself in that.
His Minister for Foreign Affairs has resigned.
And yet, he hasn’t.
Why? Because the man he has no confidence in asked him to stay, and when somebody you think isn’t up to the job asks you to do something, well, you jump to it.
Don’t try to figure it out.
Nothing makes sense.
Except the ship of State continues sailing into the maelstrom with passengers who are sick with worry while the crew members fight among themselves. It’s frightening.
Such a huge palaver over the Fianna Fáil leadership crisis for the last week. It was supposed to come to a head yesterday. The Taoiseach – he was the uncomfortable looking man in the grey suit who presided over the first of the day’s two press conferences, for those who have forgotten what he looks like – went out to assume command.
He hasn’t done that much since taking over the top job, but seldom is wonderful and there’s nothing more commanding than a Biffo with his back to the wall when his future and the future of his party at stake.
What’s that? Economic crisis? Citizens crying for out for direction? Normal business suspended? National paralysis? Never mind all that. There’s a man’s posterity at stake – which has nothing to do with protecting a person’s, or a party’s, posterior. How dare anyone imply otherwise.
Oh, and there the interest of the people has to be taken into account also.
So when Brian Cowen arrived in the Alexander Hotel yesterday afternoon – the hotel where he celebrated with his supporters on the day he became Taoiseach – he was fighting for Ireland.
You’d better believe it. He had Mary Coughlan and his Chief Whip, John Curran, by his side just in case you didn’t.
Where was the rest of his Cabinet? The usual drill, when one of their number is in difficulty, no matter how embarrassing it might seem, is for them to muster in strength and show support.
Not yesterday.
The Taoiseach is staying put. He is remaining as leader of Fianna Fáil because, after 2½ days of asking them if they still want him, he reckons they do. That’s a great recommendation for the CV.
Brian Cowen went in for group counselling with his parliamentary party, it was “cordial, mutually respectful and productive” and at the end of it all he “was heartened” by their response. As a result, he thinks they will back him in a secret ballot.
A billet among a nest of vipers sounds more comfortable.
Biffo is a proud man. He doesn’t want to be ousted. He came out fighting yesterday. “We live in transformative times,” he explained. Times are difficult, so it’s understandable that folk might be unhappy with him. But Cowen feels the majority of his colleagues are behind him.
“Excellent conversations” have been had over the last week. Sadly, for the citizenry, who would prefer a conversation with our crisis, they were with backbench members of Fianna Fáil.
It’ll all be over by Tuesday, reckons Brian, by which time he can get back to running the country. That’s obviously the confidence bit.
Such decisiveness from the Taoiseach. After his week of conversations, he tabled the motion of confidence in himself “on my own initiative”. Where initiative is concerned, it’s a bit late, granted, but it’s a start.
The Taoiseach seemed up for the internal fight. When he spoke, he rose up and down on his toes, waving his hands, stressing that he is the man to bring Ireland through the crisis. Or through the passing of the Finance Bill, which could take a couple of months. And then he’ll be gone anyway. Cowen is ready, he said, to fight the election.
Some people watching the press conference, which was televised live, might have been wondering why they had to wait another couple of months to have their say.
He turned the tables on his opponents for the party leadership, apparently. By tabling this motion of confidence in himself, he had taken the wind out of Micheál Martin’s sails. Micheál having emerged as the most likely successor. Although as he hadn’t been seen or heard for a week, emerged might not be the right word.
It turned out yesterday that Minister Martin was waiting to hear what his boss had to say before outlining his side of the story.
What would he do? If he did nothing, his ambitions would come to nought and he would be consigned to history as the nearly-ran who hadn’t the backbone for the fight.
Resignation, came the word.
In the aftermath of Brian Cowen’s press conference, his people rang around city hotels to find a venue. Late in the evening, the Minister for Foreign Affairs arrived in the Burlington Hotel for his press conference.
This would be more like it. A bit of fire. Movement. Clarity. A man who can communicate. This would be good.
Merciful hour.
Micheál looked as traumatised as the Taoiseach. He delivered a speech and then he took questions.
Clarity? As clear as mud.
Except that the Minister for Foreign Affairs (reluctant) was straight up in relaying that this whole farrago has been about Fianna Fáil and its future. He said the bit about the nation, and not being in it for “the spoils”, but he was clear that he wanted Brian Cowen out because he is killing the party.
Micheál listed the reasons – low morale, no preparation for the election, no readiness for it, the continuing slide in support, no sense of direction. The spate of resignations after Christmas only strengthened his resolve to make a move. When Cowen seemed to be appealing to a national audience when he auditioned to stay in the job, his Minister was bringing things down to brass tacks. “The survival of the party was at stake now.” The Minister said backbenchers have been coming to him for months asking “what are you guys going to do about it?”
He went to his Taoiseach and said he should step down as leader. He resigned. Cowen said he wouldn’t accept it. What could Micheál do, when “a Taoiseach puts it passionately: ‘I don’t want you to go?’” One would have thought you tell him to stuff it, but apparently Brian was clinging to his leg as he left the Taoiseach’s office, and what was he to do? Reporters at the press conference were perplexed. The Minister arrived in a ministerial car, and he left in one.
He is not canvassing for the leadership, but he, doubtless, will be available for conversations in the coming days.
The Minister pointed to one of his great achievements during his time in politics – the smoking ban. Sad to say, after the two performances yesterday, people who had to listen to them were contemplating going back on the fags.
Marvellous.
Maybe Mary Hanafin will come out tomorrow and blow them both out of the water. Or Brian Lenihan might try short circuit matters.
The Greens seem a lost cause.
The people gave up long ago.
Meanwhile, the ship of State drifts while hand to hand combat continues on the bridge.
The IMF/EU boys must be enjoying it though.
Marvellous.