Bertie casts a Princess Di spell on our imagination
Monday November 03 2008
It's 'Bertie Time!' Ahead of the Santa Claus and Panto season, 'Bertie Mania' is taking a grip of the nation, lifting us back in time to the good old days and out of the present doldrums of gloomy economic news.
The former Taoiseach may be out of office and out of hospital after fracturing his leg -- but he is everywhere: last week hobbling on his crutches at the Liberty Hall theatre premiere of his daughter Cecilia's new play 'Mrs Whippy', and in newspapers we are regaled with timeless pictures of the trendily-dressed, long-haired and innocent-looking, green-eyed boy of the 1970s.
This Bertie-hype is being promoted with the razzmatazz of a Hollywood blockbuster in previews of Miriam O'Callaghan's television documentary, which begins on RTE this evening.
The disgraced ex-Taoiseach is assuming a Princess Di spell on the contemporary imagination. His marriage break-up, his relationship with his former girlfriend Celia Larkin and his irregular financial affairs make 'The Bert' an Irish 'Del Boy'.
With RTE assured of a huge viewing audience for the four-part series, simply titled 'Bertie', and with prime advertising slots during the intervals already sold out for tonight, his critics dismiss this fanfare treatment as sound-byte escapism at best, or historical revisionism at worst.
But these critics must confront the indisputable evidence of an abiding public fascination for the life-story of 'the Drumcondra ward boss' who became the most popular and able politician of his generation.
For 11 years as the 'Teflon Taoiseach', he presided over rapid change in society during the Celtic Tiger boom years, and the son of a former IRA man consolidated peace with 'Big Ian' Paisley in the North.
He could charm both Bill Clinton and George W Bush. He was as happy opening public houses sipping his pint of Bass, or posing as an environmentalist with Big Business tycoons in the Fianna Fail tent during the Galway Races, as he was in making backroom deals in the complex EU world of Brussels, and in addressing joint sessions of the Houses of Parliament in London and Congress in Washington DC.
Yet, after years of investigation by the Mahon Tribunal into his financial 'dig-outs' from friends in the mid-1990s, Ireland's most successful politician suddenly quit on May 7, 2008.
After his self-indulgent 'long farewell', Bertie's anointed successor Brian Cowen lost the Lisbon Treaty vote, and has wrestled with the suddenness of the economic recession, the banking crisis and a botched Budget, as well as a looming crisis in the North between Peter Robinson's sullen DUP and Sinn Fein's unchuckling Martin McGuinness, with the clumsy aplomb of a midlands circus manager.
On these three key policy areas of Europe, the economy and the North, the Bertie legacy is far from secure. Yet the overwhelming consensus was that the cunning Bertie was smart to get out in time for 'Apres Moi Le Deluge'. These are Cowen's headaches now. And to add to Biffo's woes he is being accused of booting poor Bertie out! Just as Mussolini made the trains runs in time. Bertie made national wage agreements work!
Viewers will switch on in expectation of finding 'the real Bertie'. They will be disappointed, according to critic Brendan O'Connor, who judges the new series "a flawed masterpiece", much like the great man himself.
Such a judgment is no surprise to biographers who discover in their research that major figures in history remain ultimately unknowable and enigmatic. Indeed, 'Cheekie' Charlie McCreevy famously said he knew only 25pc of Bertie's mind -- and that was 24pc more than anybody else who knew him!
Apart from his apparent ordinariness, much of our perception of Bertie was moulded by the description conferred on him by Charlie Haughey as being 'the most skilful, most devious, most cunning' of them all. Such a character reference enabled 'Bertie, the socialist' to become the idol of 'Breakfast Roll Man'.
Since he jumped ship from 'Battleship Bertie' seven months ago, his period as Taoiseach is already looked upon nostalgically as a vanished golden age. We yearn for the Bertie Era, which has disappeared as swiftly as the billions of euro in the stockmarket crash.
Meanwhile, in a fresh chapter of his eventful life, Bertie is crafting a new identity as an elder statesman and popular sports pundit. Like Tony Blair, he has joined the lucrative international political lecture circuit.
He may have his sights set on becoming President in 2011, though his future political life will depend on the Mahon Tribunal findings.
Whatever he does, he will still be plain 'Bertie', or more exactly, the many chameleon images of 'Bertie' for different people.
John Cooney is author of 'Battleship Bertie': Politics in Ahern's Ireland, which is published in paperback today
