With the devastating details of the Moriary tribunal still fresh on the page and in our memories, it may not seem to be the most opportune time to sing the praises of politicians. As we face into an election year, however, it is no harm to remind ourselves that politics has served this country very well, especially in the recent past, in the creation of peace, however imperfect, in the North and of wealth and opportunity, however inadequate, in the South.
It is easy to see the depredations of Charles Haughey and the venality of too many councillors as justification for a widespread cynicism that politicians are only in it for what they can get out of it. The cynicism can be as corrosive as the corruption, devalue democracy just as much, and can be just as dangerous in extreme cases by leading some people to believe that there are attractive alternatives to the endless debating of democracy.
Politicians are generally in politics for much the same reasons as most people are in other occupations; because they are born into it, because they are attracted by its possibilities, because it suits their talents and vice versa, because it offers them a living as well as the possibility of power, status and satisfaction. Few other occupations offer such possibilities to so many people; there are not many chief executives of very large companies or other comparable organisations who get to make the same kind of major decisions on a daily basis as senior politicians. They live in a world where they are constantly on the edge of success or failure, where they are constantly required to make snap judgments or comments that can turn out to be inspired or disastrous. It is a highly public world, partly played out in the parliamentary arena where they are pitched against opponents who are always on the alert for, and trying to encourage, a faux pas, and in the bright light of the media which is equally eager to fall on any infelicitous word, gesture or decision.
It is a high octane world in which the highs can be very high, the lows very low, the movement from high to low very swift. It is tough and unforgiving but also addictive and great fun for those who have the stomach for it. It is like living on the edge all the time; dull moments can be few and far between when virtually anything can turn into a crisis.
Much of party politics can be depicted as a blood sport, fun and games in which you aim to delight your supporters while discombobulating your opponents. Government politics can offer a higher variant of the satisfaction that comes from completing any project. The objective is frequently achieved in the teeth of the begrudgery and negativity that is such an ingrained part of Irish life and that seems to accompany major infrastructural developments in particular. Even the usually unflappable Bertie Ahern seems to have been affected by that inevitable headwind when opening the Dublin Port Tunnel recently.
Despite the moaning that is the soundtrack to all politics in this country and the very real damage done to the body politic by Haughey and his imitators, we should not lose sight of the enormous achievements brought about by political decisions over the last decade and a half. Some of the most important, like the consensus among all the main parties to adopt the Maastricht Treaty and join the euro, were taken against the advice of so-called experts; others like the Northern peace process were carried through by incredible patience and great political skill in the teeth of widespread scepticism and, in some quarters, hostility. The economic policies pursued have led to sustained growth which has finally begun to compensate for the previous six decades or so of political failures.
Our recent successes are as much the result of politics as our previous failures were. It is perfectly understandable that the politics of the early decades after independence was preoccupied with symbols of statehood from oaths to self-sufficiency. Success in establishing democracy and sovereignty was not matched by economic development for a variety of unconnected reasons, not least the grip of vested interests on the new State. In more recent decades, Haughey managed to hold the whole political system in thrall while living out his own bizarre fantasies while other parties proved themselves to be much better at self-justification than they were at governing.
It is not unusual now to hear the argument that politics no longer matters much in Ireland, that the economy is big and vibrant enough to be self-sustaining no matter what politicians choose to do. That may seem a reassuring idea to those who have little time for politicians but it is no more true now than it was in, say, the 1980s when Ireland was depressed while other western countries boomed. To others, a reduction in voting levels is a worrying sign of insufficient interest in politics and of a lack of involvement in democracy. Such fears are undoubtedly exaggerated: high levels of interest in politics often go with the absence of other opportunities, as was the case in Ireland in the past. Which is not to say that other factors, such as market forces, should dominate either: a balance is most beneficial.
Politics will continue to decide our future as much as it did our past. Before the political temperature rises in the run-up to the general election, it is no harm to remind ourselves of that fact and to treat seriously and without undue cynicism the men and women who put themselves forward to take on that task. If they betray that trust, as Haughey and others have done, they then deserve all the opprobrium that comes their way.