The Labour Party leader's hardness in ousting John O'Donoghue revealed a flaw in his character, writes SARAH CAREY
LAST WEEK a friend texted me saying I was too hard on Eamon Gilmore. Let me explain to my friend why. The leader of the Labour Party will play a senior role in our next government, and I’m trying to figure out who he is.
Some might complain about “personality politics”, but character is everything. I don’t mean charisma, which allows people with poor characters to trick us into believing they have good ones. I mean that a politician’s policies are secondary to honesty, loyalty, compassion and courage. Too much or too little of any can make all the difference in the big moment.
Removing the Ceann Comhairle for the first time in the history of the State was a big moment. What did it tell us about Gilmore’s character?
I think what he did was wrong, because I think he did it for the wrong reasons. I think it was counterproductive, and it exposed a flaw in his character. On the upside, the episode revealed an unexpected steeliness, which if transferred to other situations might come in useful. If . . .
On the Sunday morning, it was clear O’Donoghue was finished. In fact it was clear much earlier, but Lisbon had to be got out of the way first. It was simply a question of how his leaving played out. Enda Kenny suggested he be given a say at the Oireachtas Commission meeting on Wednesday, where it was inevitable that a resignation would have to be offered or politely requested.
Gilmore said the deed should not be done behind closed doors. But if O’Donoghue was going, what difference did it make whether he went in private or in public? If accountability was the issue – if making an example was the issue – the result was what counted.
So the outcome was not the point – it was all about the optics. By doing it in public, Gilmore ensured that he got in first, and won all the credit because he had accurately “reflected public anger”. Personally, I’m weary of the reflecting public anger competition. Every morning I wake up feeling worried, anxious and, yes, angry, because I don’t know whether my family, friends and the country are going to get out of the mess we were put in by people who were having a party instead of doing their jobs.
But when I turn on the radio or television, I don’t actually want those negative feelings reflected, and therefore amplified. I want to feel better, not worse, because feeling worse makes things worse by grinding us down.
Great leaders do not merely “reflect” the people’s negative feelings. They show us how to get past them. Making plans with his opposition colleagues to deal with Nama amendments would have been a constructive way for Eamon Gilmore to spend his Sunday. Conspiring how best to assassinate John O’Donoghue politically in order to maximise the PR jump was not.
However, what shocked me more was the revelation that O’Donoghue personally phoned the Labour leader. He didn’t ask Gilmore to lay off – just to lay off for one more day. O’Donoghue was elected to the Dáil in 1987 and Gilmore in 1989, so they have known each other for 20 years. The weakness might be mine, but I cannot fathom the lack of compassion required to refuse that request.
Don’t get me wrong – O’Donoghue’s pompousness and sense of entitlement are jaw-dropping. He is not a man who inspires sympathy. And yet, he was a proud man on the way out, and he begged for one more day. Gilmore, sure in the knowledge that the mob was behind him, would not show mercy. This unwillingness to soften for just 24 hours made me wonder.
Apart from the fact that Gilmore had just created a poll-topping martyr in south Kerry, in what other situations might this hardness of heart manifest itself?
What if there’s an election in the next few months? Let’s say that I’m wrong (it has been known to happen) and that what Gilmore did was both necessary and brave. Would that kind of behaviour replicate itself in office?
The inescapable reality for any government is that even if extra taxes are imposed, public spending has to be slashed, which means cuts in social welfare, in public services or the public sector wage bill. If it’s a choice between unemployment benefit, frontline services and the pay bill, then I’m clear in my mind as to what should be cut first.
As Gilmore made his calls on that Sunday morning, he was making his way home from the Siptu conference at which Jack O’Connor made his regular dire threats about strikes and protests. Siptu and other trade unions make generous financial donations to the Labour Party.
To be fair, Gilmore told the conference emphatically that he would not lead a trade union government, but the relationship is cosy enough to worry me. He was brave enough and hard enough to tell a parliamentary colleague that he’s sorry but the answer must be no.
If he’s in government, would he be brave enough and hard enough to look Jack O’Connor in the eye and say: “I’m sorry Jack, but no”? If I thought that the bravery Gilmore attributed to himself over the O’Donoghue affair would translate into the bravery required to have that conversation, then I’d go easier on him. If . . .