AH, THE perils of old-school, solid-fuel journalism. This column has, alas, been filed some time before the arrival of any results in the presidential election. No matter. Here in Opinion Land, we can fashion a trend for any eventuality. Just scratch out the six paragraphs that no longer apply and savour the insight, writes DONALD CLARKE
So, Martin McGuinness has triumphed. Many doubted the Sinn Féin candidate’s ability to attract transfers from other voters. But, on reflection, the result was never in any serious doubt. Voters have had it up to their oxters with the clapped-out establishment and its dated take on the Republican movement.
When the mainstream media began rounding on Martin, a proud, defiant backlash became inevitable. This result offers two fingers to the commentariat, the bourgeois pettifoggers and the discredited capitalist bandits. Even McGuinness sceptics must now acknowledge the people’s enthusiasm for independent thinking. Their day is over. Our day has come.
Some foolish headline writers have called Gay Mitchell’s victory a stunning upset. Cretins. It was only an upset to those – largely urban – fashionistas who believed the liberal claptrap about Ireland shaking off “outdated” allegiances and seeking to assert a newfound independence.
This nation is, at its warm, cosy heart, a conservative community. When, earlier this year, we kicked out Fianna Fáil, we didn’t turn to the Marxist Revolutionary Alliance. We shuffled a few paces to the left (or, maybe, right) and embraced the much-loved retainer waiting with open arms by the glowing hearth. Quite right too. At times of crisis, it makes sense to stay close to home. Daddy will make it all better.
Mammy will make it all better. That was surely the lesson of Dana’s predictable victory in the nastiest presidential election ever. Over the last decade, the public has, with some justification, turned against the Catholic Church’s occasionally negligent authorities. But this nation has not rejected the church itself. People still cross themselves when walking past consecrated buildings. Consider how many of your friends still baptise their children and propel them towards First Communion.
It was always likely that, when offered a benign representative of their religion, the people would offer their loyal support. The Catholic Church has taken a few knocks, but it remains strong in the heartlands.
The Catholic Church in Ireland is finished. One can imagine no more explicit demonstration of this undeniable truth than the election of Senator David Norris as president. Norris did not, of course, stand on an anti-Catholic platform (or anything like it).
But our brave decision to elect a gay man who talks and dresses like Queen Elizabeth’s second cousin confirms that we no longer feel the need to kowtow to the old papal dictates.
This paper applauds the nation’s decision to acknowledge Norris’s generosity of spirit. We all profit. Here comes everyone!
Early on in the campaign, some cynics suggested that simply being involved with the Special Olympics doesn’t automatically make you some class of secular saint. Mary Davis showed them. The same brigands felt there was something wrong with issuing a million posters that appeared to depict a woman with considerably smoother features than the recommended candidate.
Mary Davis showed them . . . Just because nobody could quite figure out where she sat on the political spectrum these same brutes suggested she was not fit for political(ish) office. Well, what do you know? It seems we actually wanted to be led by an ordinary woman – albeit one with a very nice red dress – whose breezy lack of pretension chimed with harassed wage slaves. The political insiders have had their day.
When it came down to it, we decided – as this column always knew we would – to plump for a candidate who combined the role of political insider with that of cultural maverick. When disaster strikes, sensible folk seek out individualists, but they also need a figure who understands the mechanics of power.
Think back to 1940. Who did the British choose to see the country through its greatest crisis? They picked a fleshy paradox who had spent as much time in the wilderness as he had parked behind the levers of government. Michael D Higgins may speak in a register seven octaves above that of Churchill, but he has a comparable ability for straddling the frontier between the margins and the political hub. This could yet be our finest hour.
So somebody called Seán Gallagher won. Hang on a moment. Who now? It just goes to show. When standing for office, it’s all very well to have shepherded a peace process, served as lord mayor of Dublin, won the Eurovision context, helped reform the laws on homosexuality, organised the Special Olympics or kept the country safe for the arts, but it counts for nothing when you come up against somebody who has recently appeared on prime-time telly.
Will this do?