Bad tidings flow like lava but the minister keeps his cool and avoids meltdown
BRIAN Lenihan was waiting when his driver arrived at his Strawberry Beds home just after 8am yesterday. After easing into his seat, the Mercedes began the 45 minute journey to his office in Merrion Street.
D-Day had arrived, the beginning of a process which will cement Mr Lenihan's place in history as either a financial shaman or a dunce.
There hadn't been much sleep.
Just seven hours earlier Mr Lenihan had been hunkered down in his second floor office, dotting the 'i's and the 't's as he put the finishing touches to his second budget in five months.
With him were adviser Kathy Herbert, secretary general of the department of finance David Doyle, and his two second secretaries Donal McNally and Kevin Cardiff.
Then, with the motorbike couriers waiting in the cold night outside, the draft Budget -- and Mr Lenihan's speech -- was whisked off to the Stationery Office printers where staff worked overnight to print hundreds of copies of the 60-page book.
Mr Lenihan got home just before 2am, grabbed a few hours sleep and was up again to shower, breakfast and face the day which will define his 335 days as Finance Minister.
No longer a coffee drinker, Mr Lenihan has developed a penchant for green tea and fortified by a cup of the stimulant, he got down to work at 10am.
A barrister, Trinity scholar and fellow of Cambridge University, the 49-year-old father of two is considered a quick learner with a sharp intellect. And there's no doubt Mr Lenihan has had to employ these assets during his exceptionally uncomfortable tenure in Merrion Street during which a €16bn financial black hole opened up.
Most observers are agreed on one thing; while Mr Lenihan may be a smart man who enjoys reading books in French, he's never been an economist and barely managed a pass in Leaving Certificate Maths.
"He's a lawyer who's been asked to suddenly become Gordon Gecko to sort out the mess," said one TD yesterday, referring to the ruthless financier in the seminal movie 'Wall Street'.
There have been some gaffes. Last year, in an unguarded moment, the normally cautious minister told a reporter it was his "misfortune" to get the finance job just as things went sour.
He was also blindsided by the BBC in a 'Newsnight' programme which contained a string of factual inaccuracies about Ireland and the Irish economy which led to furious recriminations.
The minister and his officials were livid and complained to the BBC which had claimed unemployment was 10pc when it was in fact 6.3pc. Now it's 11pc and climbing fast.
Mr Lenihan went on to say: "We've a very low public debt. We have a thriving economy...We've a very strong, vibrant economy."
That was January 22, already a world away yesterday with Mr Lenihan admitting our gross national product will plummet by at least eight per cent this year.
Befitting the sombre mood, Mr Lenihan dispensed with the usual Budget day frivolities such as the traditional photo-op.
He was, however, spotted by the Irish Independent slipping out into a ghostly-still Merrion Street at 3.30pm.
Dressed in a blue-grey suit, blue shirt and green tie threaded with stripes of white, blue and red, the minister, clutching a couple of folders, made the short walk to a nearby laneway.
It led directly to the back door of Leinster House and the Dail where he was due to speak at 3.45pm.
He was no sooner in his seat than opposition TDs exploded when they noticed members of the press reading the Budget before they had been given their own copy.
He sat impassively as the storm boomed around the chamber, finally abating a full six minutes later when Labour leader Eamon Gilmore saw the futility of it all and called on Mr Lenihan to begin.
Watched by Central Bank governor John Hurley and a full public gallery, many of whom took copious notes, the minister spoke for 44 minutes.
It was hard medicine, a Budget, he said, which represented "the challenge of this nation's life" including massive tax hikes and cuts to child benefits.
People who earn over €75,000 will next week find themselves paying a 4pc income levy instead of the 1pc they currently hand over. For those on welfare, there will be no Christmas bonus.
The bad tidings flowed like lava. Unemployment benefit halved for under-20s, the spectre of a property tax later this year and a carbon levy as well.
Fatigue
Mr Lenihan sank back into his seat at 4.35pm, hollow-eyed with fatigue but relieved he had delivered the 60-page document which will see a massive €1.8bn clawed back in taxes.
After listening to Fine Gael's Richard Bruton ("This budget does not deserve a standing ovation") and Labour's Joan Burton ("This is the Budget from hell") it was off to Government Buildings.
There, in the Sycamore Room, the flashbulbs popped as Mr Lenihan lined up with 16 ministerial colleagues, their seating in a long row making them look more like a Politburo than a cabinet.
And just like in the old Soviet days, there was one central message: everyone had to take the pain.
"We're all in this together," said the grim-faced finance minister. "We all have to pull together."
"This had better work for him," said one onlooker, staring straight at Mr Lenihan.
- CIARAN BYRNE
