Logic can be a poor guide to politics: it's dry and prosaic, but politics has a poetic dimension, writes DEAGLÁN de BRÉADÚN
THERE ARE times you almost feel sorry for Brian Cowen. Even the poets have turned against him.
At a recent event in Newman House, Dublin, to announce Ireland’s new Professor of Poetry, Harry Clifton, the Taoiseach suggested our arts and culture had a “big role” to play in getting us “back on track” in economic terms.
“Ireland is a brand,” Mr Cowen said, arguing that poets, artists and musicians contributed to our international image.
“Brand Ireland” could “give us the competitive advantage in a globalised world”.
The Taoiseach immediately received a polite but firm rap on the knuckles from Prof Clifton, who warned of the dangers to poetry from “the kind of people who have too strong an agenda”, not to mention the “crush of market forces”.
Another distinguished poet, Derek Mahon, later told this newspaper that “the idea of using the arts to build ‘Brand Ireland’ is very dense and philistine”.
Earlier in his speech, which is published on www.irlgov.ie, the Taoiseach pointed out that “Irish scholar Osborn Bergin described the poet of Gaelic Ireland as being more than just a professor of literature or a man of letters. He was a public official.”
So it is clear at least that “Brand Gaelic Ireland” regarded poets as part of the public service; there may even have been a Civil and Poetical Services Union at the time.
Indeed, poets of today who are members of Aosdána can, subject to certain conditions, receive an annual cnuas, or grant, of €17,180 from the Arts Council. It is a modest sum that would hardly fund a good Celtic Tiger dinner of bankers and developers, but it does come from the public purse.
If one overlooks the Madison Avenue description of Ireland as a “brand”, perhaps the Taoiseach has a point. Why shouldn’t poets play their part in the life of the nation, rather than retreating to an ivory tower?
In former times poets Pádraig Pearse, Thomas MacDonagh and Joseph Plunkett went so far as to declare a provisional government, and one of the results is the Republic that Brian Cowen governs today.
There is no easy time to be Taoiseach, but this must be one of the most challenging.
As former New York governor Mario Cuomo put it some years ago: “We campaign in poetry, but we govern in prose.”
Indeed, governing Ireland can be pretty prosaic at times, as seen in the last Cabinet meeting before the summer break which, by all accounts, consisted of five solid hours of mind-numbing administrative house-keeping.
There was some discussion of the draft legislation for a directly elected mayor of Dublin, but Ministers didn’t sign off on it.
That means it is unlikely to be passed in time by the Oireachtas to hold the election this year. Whenever a date is selected for the good people of our capital city to vote for their first citizen, there will be what the Green Party calls “a logic” to holding the three pending byelections on the same day, not to mention the children’s referendum.
Losing two or quite possibly three byelections in the lead-up to the December budget is the last thing this Government needs.
But now the whole thing is quietly moving forward to the spring of next year.
This anticipated sequence of events could be upset by Senator Pearse Doherty’s High Court challenge to move the writ for Donegal South-West, which may be heard on October 18th.
The Doherty court bid is what Donald Rumsfeld would call “a known unknown”.
Should the Government win, we need not expect the byelections until the following March or April, and that might even shade into a general election in May or June.
There are also “unknown unknowns”. Dissident Tipperary TD Mattie McGrath has lost the Fianna Fáil whip, but can probably be relied upon to support the Government on most issues, if they don’t upset rural voters.
However, if there is one basic political axiom that has been driven home, it is to expect the unexpected.
And as Albert Reynolds said, based on bitter personal experience: “It’s the little things that trip you up.”
Logic suggests that the Opposition should not be wishing for an election until the December budget has been put through.
Imagine the turmoil among newly elected Labour and even Fine Gael TDs if they found that their first act in government was to punish the electorate which had just elevated them to power.
Logic can be a poor guide to politics: logic is dry and prosaic, but politics has a poetic dimension.
Seeing Enda Kenny in action is to observe a man consumed with the goal he has set himself; Eamon Gilmore also has that “now or never” air about him; Brian Cowen’s admirers still insist he is a sleeping giant who will vanquish his opponents as soon as an election rouses him to battle.
There must be a role for poets in all of this: maybe they could be invited to read their work at the start of political rallies to give us a sense of perspective; indeed, the Greens have probably thought of that already.