FROM THE ARCHIVES:Disillusionment with politics is such an ingrained reflex in the body politic (and in the media) that there's hardly been an era when it didn't exist. Two byelections in 1935 provided occasion for The Irish Times to bemoan the state of politics in the country. – JOE JOYCE
ONE OF the most remarkable features of the by-election in County Dublin – and, to a less extent, of that in Galway – has been the apathy of the electors. The elections were fought on a new register, and, consequently, the number of persons who had died or changed their residence must have been comparatively small. Yet in County Dublin, where the number of registered voters was 128,239, only 76,725 took the trouble to go to the poll. No fewer than 51,514 qualified electors, therefore, abstained. Mr. Cecil Lavery, the successful nominee of the United Ireland Party, polled 43,671 votes, or nearly 8,000 less than the number of abstentions, while President de Valera’s candidate polled 32,656 votes, or nearly 19,000 less than the number of those who did not vote at all. What does this condition of affairs portend? [. . .]
We venture to suggest that many thousands of intelligent electors in County Dublin did not go to the poll merely because they regarded the two parties as Tweedledum and Tweedledee, and would not give their support to either.
Large numbers of respectable citizens are thoroughly disgusted with our politicians and all their works. In particular, they are disgusted with Dáil Éireann; and we must admit, although we do not approve of their abstentionist attitude, that we can sympathise to some extent with their feelings. The standard of parliamentary conduct in the Free State is deplorably low. Dáil Éireann has been in existence now for some thirteen years, and by this time it surely ought to have evolved a code of civilised and decent behaviour, in keeping with the dignity of a sovereign assembly. Unfortunately, as time progresses matters seem to become worse instead of better. In the old days, when our people fought their political battles at County Council meetings, the phrase, “a Castle hack,” used to be regarded as the most stinging term of abuse; but nowadays our legislators go very much further in their castigation of their opponents. One member of Dáil Éireann not long ago referred to another as “a dying mongrel,” and only a few days ago two front-benchers argued hotly for the privilege of having been the first to call the other a cad. Expressions are bandied across the floor of the House which would disgrace a drunken coal porter. The Speaker does his best to maintain the amenities of debate; but his efforts are often in vain, and the number of suspensions is growing apace. One of the main reasons for this condition is the unhappy fact that the personal animosities of the civil war period never have been assuaged. Probably Dáil Éireann is the only body of its kind in the world in which the members of the two opposing groups rarely, if ever, mix with one another outside the House. Under Mr. Cosgrave’s Administration a Parliamentary Golfing Society flourished, and deputies, senators, officials and Press men used to meet periodically in friendly competitions. Now, with the exception of very few back-benchers, the members of the opposing parties keep rigidly to themselves, with the result that all social intercourse is estopped. While this condition of affairs is allowed to exist the conduct of parliamentary debate will remain unsatisfactory, and popular contempt for an assembly which ought to be respected will grow.
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