THE VALUE OF DEMOCRACY
Can we not discuss anything these days without it descending into the usual spiral of outrage, asks Brendan O’Connor
Brendan O’Connor and Kevin Doyle
IF an alien had landed in Ireland last week and observed what was going on, she would surely not have concluded that we were in the midst of a competition to fill the highest, most dignified office in the land.
The alien would have noticed a bunch of people doing the rounds of various media outlets and being aggressively questioned, at times, as if they were criminals. But the alien would have been confused, because the nature of the crimes would have been unclear. The alien would notice one bald man being repeatedly questioned about his alibi. Where has he been for the last seven years, everyone keeps asking him. It would also seem to the alien as if this man had possibly committed a crime during the gay marriage referendum because investigations seemed to focus on where he was while that was happening.
Watching a bit more, the alien might have decided that what was actually going on was a very public financial audit. The alien might have concluded that it seemed like a very elaborate way to conduct a simple accountancy exercise. The alien would have concluded that the potential financial irregularities seemed to involve an elderly bookmaker who was being less than forthcoming about his expenses, and who seemed to like air travel and expensive hotels.
The alien would have wondered, though, why various other random subjects kept getting thrown into the mix, like wellness, and even at one point childhood obesity. The childhood obesity issue seemed to be plucked out of the air by one of the suspects when he was put on the spot about his plans for the next seven years. It seemed this investigation didn’t just focus on people’s alibis for the last seven years, it also focused on what people were going to be doing for the next seven. Perhaps, the alien might think, it was a very elaborate form of parole hearing.
Ultimately though, as the week went on, the alien would have concluded that what was going on in Ireland last week was in fact a very ostentatious display of virtue by most of the people involved. And you’ve got to say that the alien would have been spot on. As the first presidential campaign to really happen in the age of mass social media and instant mass outrage, it was perhaps not surprising that this campaign would degenerate into the usual cycle of outrage, name-calling, public shaming and frantic virtue signalling.
The first thing you’d have to admit is that before Peter Casey said what he said about Travellers, this was a campaign about nothing. The first two debates devoted significant time to discussing turning up at debates. When you’re having debates about debates, you know an election has essentially eaten itself.
Apart from that, some of the contestants, which seems like the most appropriate word for them, didn’t seem to know why they were there or why they wanted to be president. There was a general, uncomfortable consensus that one or two of them at least were making fools of themselves. Sean Gallagher seemed to some to be driven by some sense of injustice, and some found there was a vaguely sour note to his appearances. The feeling among many about Joan Freeman was that she seemed like an admirable person, but that she was possibly too nice, and too vague, to be president. Liadh Ni Riada didn’t seem to want to be president at all, and she seemed to have a rather semi-detached relationship with her political party Sinn Fein. No one was quite sure what Gavin Duffy was at, and why he was pretending to be so passionate about his contrived idea of a sort of a peace corps. Peter Casey seemed to be the only one who was actually enjoying himself. There was a glint of mischief in his eye, and while he said some sensible things, he often seemed to keep talking then, without having fully thought everything through. Casey’s loose talk was the opposite of the polished waffle of media trainer Gavin Duffy. Indeed Casey was straight-talking in a way that none of the others were. Liadh Ni Riada, while seeming a bit less stilted and formal than the others, still didn’t seem quite straight. Though she gave the impression, like Casey, that she was reacting to some things on the hoof, on other matters she was very clearly on message. Her aim seemed to be less to become president than to talk about a united Ireland, which was odd.
People who sail close to the wind will often find themselves tipping over, and it happened to Casey when he talked about the houses built for Travellers at Cabra Bridge. If he had stuck to that specific issue, many people would have still been appalled, but it might not have exploded the way it did. It was that extra bit of talking that Casey often does that really got him in trouble. We don’t know how many people in Ireland believe that Travellers are a different race to the rest of us, but for the purposes of this argument, everyone did, publicly at least.
When outrage rises, it is only satisfied by some public display of repentance, and the slinking off of the offender. But Casey refused to do either. He refused to recant, and he refused, initially at least, to go away. All right-thinking people were appalled. The other candidates could not contain their outrage. Suddenly, from having a lacklustre campaign about nothing, we were playing a new game, a game of which everyone knew the rules. There was now one clear bad guy and his role in the campaign was to make everyone else look good, as they signalled their abhorrence of him. Liadh Ni Riada even went as far as reminding us that she herself is a member of an oppressed minority, being from the Gaeltacht. And such was the high indignation in general that no one even passed remark on the fact that Liadh Ni Riada, in claiming victim status and essentially bringing identity politics into it, was actually playing a version of the race card. To listen to the candidates fulminate about how Casey had dragged down the tone of the campaign, while they eagerly made the campaign all about condemning him, seemed vaguely disingenuous.
The laws of the liberal outrage game state clearly that the next thing that must happen is that you label the offender a racist, and sure enough, Peter Casey was branded a racist. Even the Travellers who wouldn’t move into the houses got in on it. They didn’t even want the houses, they said, but it was part of their culture, and part of the deal they made to agree to move into the homes, that they would have facilities to graze horses. And Casey was a racist for suggesting otherwise, and for the broader comments he made about Travellers.
Michael D Higgins must have been chuckling away to himself back at the Aras. Because for a while it had seemed as if he was the bad guy of the campaign. He had been getting steadily more snippy at each public appearance, as the other candidates respectfully criticised him. But the game had moved on now. Peter Casey was the new bad guy. He had set back relations between Travellers and the rest of us hugely, and driven a wedge of hatred where previously there had only been sweetness and light. Even the Taoiseach rowed in with an slightly vengeful quote, essentially telling the public to give Casey what he deserved.
As this campaign started, it seemed as if it would have been nice to use it to have a conversation about the psyche of the nation. But if last week proved anything, it’s that we’re unable to have any big conversation in any adult manner any more. Peter Casey might not have gone about starting this conversation in the best possible way. But he certainly scratched at some unfinished business here in Ireland, and we all admit there are many who will have agreed with some or all of what he said.
It could have led to a really interesting discussion whereby we listened to people we disagreed with and argued back with them, and where stereotypes and accepted wisdom about Travellers were addressed and discussed. But clearly that’s not how we do it any more.
And then we complain that our politicians are obsessed with spin. Well, what do we expect them to do? Say what they really think?
‘Some didn’t seem to know why they wanted to be president’