IT WAS a phantom heave and Brian Cowen was the man who saw the ghost. You could see it in his face on the evening news. The Taoiseach looked haunted and sounded shaken.
He is a brave man. He’s not afraid of Ministers that go bump in the night. He knows from experience that they only rattle their chains after dark. When the cold light of day dawns they scuttle away and hide.
It was all systems go on Wednesday night when word spread that Fianna Fáil’s officer corps was moving against their commanding officer. Things were being said off the record.
The bar was busy on the first night back after the Christmas break. Most of the talk was about Cowen’s performance during Leaders’ Questions.
It was getting late, about 10 o’clock, when the rumour started. Word began drifting in from the members’ bar that a number of backbenchers were unhappy with how he handled the issue of his contacts with bigwigs from Anglo. Suddenly, journalists began getting text messages. Phones were ringing.
The atmosphere changed. There was a feeling that something was afoot. Ministers were involved, it was said.
Along the back wall of the visitors’ bar, a rural deputy who would be seen as a Cowen loyalist was having a drink with a constituent. He suddenly left his seat and ran off towards the door to the inner sanctum. What was going on? “I’m hearing a crowd are having a meeting in Buswells to discuss a heave. I’m going in now to find out.” He didn’t return.
Three Ministers were putting themselves about.
Brian Lenihan and Batt O’Keeffe sat on the leather banquette in the corridor outside, self-consciously and smilingly inscrutable as hacks assailed them with questions. Micheál Martin was also on the prowl, although he turned on his heels and walked quickly away when he saw a reporter approach.
Backbenchers and Senators were agog. Journalists grabbed the story and began to run with it. The internet began to buzz.
An expedition was launched across the road to Buswells Hotel. But no Fianna Fáilers, scheming or otherwise, could they find.
So what was it? The beginning of a coup? Brian Lenihan laughed off the suggestions and left.
The speculation continued. A move would be made during the parliamentary party meeting, but only if the Taoiseach refused to listen to reason and step down.
Rumour fed upon rumour. “Impeccable sources” were quoted by journalists – many of them experienced and steady old hands not known for jumping to poorly informed conclusions.
A consensus emerged: the Ministers were mobilising. This heave would be “Cabinet driven”. Then it was announced that the parliamentary party meeting was being rescheduled. This could mean just one thing – the heavyweights were talking to Cowen, trying to find the best way forward for the party and the best way out for the Taoiseach.
Endgame. No doubt about it. The TV satellite vans lined up outside Government Buildings.
“Whatever happens, he’ll put the party and the country first,” said a solemn Fianna Fáiler on the radio.
Meanwhile, backbenchers and Senators confessed they hadn’t an idea what was happening. They were as surprised as everyone else about the decision to delay the meeting. But most reckoned, if the Ministers had become involved, it looked like curtains for Brian Cowen.
There has always been one missing ingredient when “the usual suspects” have attempted to oust their leader – no senior Minister to add legitimacy to their cause. That problem was solved, or so it was said.
Ministers due to attend the BT Young Scientist and Technology Exhibition cancelled at short notice. The stage was set. The atmosphere around Leinster House was tense, the mood relieved by marauding bands of Fine Gaelers taking pleasure in the discomfiture of their rivals. They suffered during the failed strike against Enda Kenny. It was Fianna Fáil’s turn now.
An hour before the meeting was due to begin, the doubts set in. Brian Cowen was holed up in his office and talking tough. One of his allies in the party – though not so loyal anymore – was in the canteen.
“Will he go?”
“Don’t be so sure. It’s not in his make-up. He’ll fight to the end.”
The troops trooped along the corridor to the lift outside the canteen doors which would take them to the party rooms on the fifth floor. The media decamped to the plinth. It could be a long wait.
It wasn’t. After about 15 minutes the news was out. “They’re discussing climate change now and turf-cutting rights.” What? “The heave is over for now. Cowen said he would talk to everyone on a one-to-one basis over the next 48 hours and get back to them.”
And that was that.
Eventually, politicians began to emerge. Very few of them wanted to talk. Any backbencher, no matter how obscure, was chased around the car park in the hope of a quote.
And so it was that Eamon Scanlan of Sligo found himself in front of a bank of microphones, unburdening himself of his views on the leadership crisis. He told the hacks he was a former councillor and Senator to boot.
Eamon was big news yesterday. He was readmitted to the parliamentary party after he was drummed out when he stepped out of line on the issue of cancer services in Sligo.
“Who is he?” the journalists whispered to each other.
“Actually, I wasn’t at the meeting,” he said.
A few disgusted deputies disclosed that lots of politicians “were texting like mad” throughout the meeting. The four who voiced their concerns over the leadership were Seán Power, Noel O’Flynn, John McGuinness and Tom Kitt.
The brave Ministers sat on their hands and said nothing. “They said they were going to take care of it,” said one disgruntled deputy.
It was all one big misunderstanding, came the message from the Cowen camp. Somebody started a rumour and it gained pace and got out of hand.
There was no night of the long knives.
It was the night of the wrong vibes.
So why, asked Noel O’Flynn, was the Taoiseach addressing the issue at all? Consultations with Cowen begin today. He told well-known dissident McGuinness that he wouldn’t contact him as he is already aware of his views. “Ah, put me on the list anyway,” chortled John.
Chief Whip John Curran came out to comment on the meeting. Brian Cowen is confident he has the majority backing of his party, he said. But Curran sounded as unsure as his boss did a short while later on the news.
Meanwhile, the silence from Cork is deafening, while Mary Hanafin has also imposed radio silence. The phantom heave will walk abroad again on Tuesday. Will anyone have the spirit to mount a daylight challenge? As one observer put it: “When it comes to having a heave, that lot make Fine Gael look professional.”
The Greens are concerned.