Bertie Ahern deserves understanding rather than scorn over his controversial appearance at the building site of a new Kerry hotel. The Taoiseach's fondness for cutting the ribbon on construction projects is well known. But I understand from sources that, prior to this lapse, he had been on the wagon since he left Galway last week. Apart from a tense moment in the Parknasilla, when only a quick-thinking member of staff prevented him from declaring his room formally open, Mr Ahern had not so much as touched a scissors for more than five days.
The Sneem incident illustrates the pressures that people with this vulnerability face, especially in social situations. The Taoiseach apparently did not even know the builder, but the visit to the site was suggested by a mutual acquaintance of both men. It is easy to imagine what happened. Mr Ahern probably started out trying to be firm: "I'm on holidays, I'm not opening any hotels." Then the coaxing began: "Ah, go on. It's just the one." And of course he was soon persuaded.
There had been signs of late that Bertie was at last facing up to his opening habit. He has performed so many sod-turning and ribbon-cutting ceremonies over the past decade that the same buildings were beginning to recur in his schedule. People with this problem often have to hit rock bottom before they can confront it. Mr Ahern's moment of truth appeared to have arrived when, reopening the James Joyce Centre last month, he noted that he had already opened it a couple of times before, and he hoped this would be the last time. All of us who care about the Taoiseach's well-being shared that hope.
Sadly, we now know that he had not hit rock bottom with the Joyce episode, nor with the Michael Smurfit incident, in which - after years of opening only public houses - he finally opened a private one. The Sneem affair marked a new low on this downward spiral. It was all the more pitiful because the hotel in question is in advanced construction and yet nowhere near finished. The Taoiseach could neither turn the first sod nor perform the official opening. Even the corner stone was long ago laid. But a man with the habit needs little excuse to put on a hard hat and pose for photographs.
It should be said that there is nothing wrong with opening ceremonies, in moderation. Irish people like a drink, and in our culture, opening ceremonies are an intrinsic part of this. From the moment the obstetrician formally cuts the umbilical cord, our lives are full of such rituals. But for most of us these remain special occasions, and we could go for weeks at a time doing normal things - chain-smoking, drinking to excess, gambling on horses - without feeling the urge to perform an official opening.
Politicians are a high-risk group, however, their daily routines frequently involving contact with uncut ribbons, unturned sods, unveiled plaques, and a host of other temptations. Peer pressure is a factor too. There is a macho culture surrounding political openings that discourages restraint. If you say no, you may be "slagged" by your mates for not being a man. This was tellingly illustrated earlier this summer when the Taoiseach pulled out of a hotel opening over planning concerns, only to be accused by the developer of having no "balls".
Mr Ahern is unlucky in being Taoiseach at the time of a construction boom. In the past, Ireland's poverty was a restraining force on ribbon-cutting. Anyone who knew Charlie Haughey, for example, would say that he was a prime candidate to develop a habit. Who could forget the embarrassing episode - quotations from Ulysses and everything - at the IFSC in 1987? Only the country's bankruptcy saved him from worse excesses.
Bertie was doomed to preside over a time when the country was awash with money, and there were new things to be opened every five minutes. Not only that, there was also a new vogue for "openness and transparency" in Irish life that only encouraged his tendency. Indeed there was a time a few years back when the two trends converged, so that hardly a week passed in which the Taoiseach did not formally unveil a new tribunal of inquiry. He even turned up at one or two, in his hard hat, to give evidence.
It would be ironic now if increased transparency about illegal dumping forced him to review his lifestyle. In any case, all reasonable people will wish him well in his battle with the scissors. He must just start again and take it one day at a time.
There will probably be more lapses. There will be new pubs and shopping centres and beauty treatment clinics that seem like good causes, and some of these will land him in trouble again. It will be a constant struggle to say no, and there will be times when he is simply not strong enough. Above all, such is the nature of this problem that, no matter how long he goes without formally opening something, he can never be completely sure that he has achieved closure.