Michael D is more than just a safe pair of hands
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MICHAEL D Higgins was by far the best qualified candidate -- arguably the only qualified candidate -- in this presidential election. The intellectual gap between him and all the others, with the possible exception of David Norris, was glaring. Less obvious, perhaps, was the political gap.
In this area, his only competition came from Gay Mitchell. But Mitchell, though he has enjoyed a long political career of some distinction, never served in a cabinet.
None of the others had any top-level executive experience whatsoever. In addition, they made no effort to rise above their own deficiencies. Most of their contributions to the debate consisted of nothing more than guff, obviously written by public relations consultants.
An exception, of a sort, was Sean Gallagher. Already kitted out with a "man of the people" image, he tried to expand on it by pushing the message that his presidency would be all about jobs, jobs, jobs.
That attracted unthinking young people. But persons with any maturity or knowledge of the system could see it as nonsense. The president can do nothing about job creation. The role is something completely different.
And in debate after debate, Higgins consistently pointed that out. He broke all the rules of the Twitter Age and ignored the age-old Irish injunction "whatever you say, say nothing". He set out the facts in a manner that would have been recognisable to Isaac Butt or W E Gladstone. He told his fellow contenders and the nation all they needed to know about the president's powers and the restrictions on them. By telling the truth, and telling it with authority, he won every debate.
He would look better if he were a little taller. He would sound better if his voice were a little lower. But he can do nothing about his height or his voice, just as (to quote himself) he can do nothing about his age.
And the high-pitched voice, and the cuddly manner, are deceptive. There is steel in Michael D Higgins.
Brought up in poverty, he got himself an education and became a university lecturer.
He fought many general elections in the difficult Galway West constituency, dominated by Fianna Fail and often the scene of the Labour Party's fondness for internal divisions. He became an icon of the party's left wing, but there was and is much more to him than that.
The one-time Labour leader Frank Cluskey, a man of mordant wit, was amused by Michael D's campaigns for human rights in faraway places like Latin America. He said that "when it comes to a choice between saving the world and organising the Labour Party, Michael D always takes the easy option".
Michael D was capable of letting his imagination run riot at the expense of plausibility. He once told the 'Financial Times' that in addition to his genuine career successes he also knew how to succeed in business. Readers of the 'Financial Times' who knew him personally (a tiny fraction of the population, for sure) laughed wryly.
But when he reached cabinet rank he showed himself well capable of administration as well as idealism.
He launched TG4. He revived the film industry. Admittedly he did these things, along with many other achievements, at a time of great prosperity, when access to public funds was easy. But these were real, tangible successes.
And during the election campaign he demonstrated another quality, verbal sharpness. In debate, he never lost the thread of his argument. While others waffled, he stuck to the point. He picked up on every gaffe, always without rancour or rudeness. And throughout the sensations surrounding David Norris and the calamity that struck Sean Gallagher at the end, he and his handlers maintained the same steady tone and pace.
By lunchtime yesterday, when it was clear that he would win, people were talking about "a safe pair of hands". They were right. Should an emergency arise, he will know how to handle it. For the rest, he knows that the presidency is about setting a tone. He will set a tone.
How to define it? A fascinating clue came on Monday night on TV3's 'Tonight with Vincent Browne', an hour after the spectacular implosion of Sean Gallagher on RTE.
Among the panellists was Rita Fagan, a community worker. She said that Michael D, when minister for the arts, had appointed her to the board of the Irish Museum of Modern Art. And this, she added, was not tokenism.
Indeed it was not. One of the many components of Michael D's version of socialism is a passionate belief that working-class people should have access to the high arts: to classical music, world literature, great paintings and sculpture. The Labour and trade union leaders of the late 19th century thought likewise. Things have turned out otherwise, but the idea is noble.
Along with his passion for the high arts goes a dedication to Irish culture. Which prompts a thought: how do we feel about the fact that six out of seven candidates for the presidency of Ireland cannot speak Irish?
And also along with it goes something that is partly a fault and partly a virtue, his love of hifalutin language, never using one syllable when four or five would do.
In one way, that is greatly to his credit, and Rita Fagan would doubtless agree. Michael D does not patronise. He speaks to community activists in the same language that he speaks in the company of academics and intellectuals.
But how will it go down in the Twitter Age? I think it will go down just fine. The PR people, when they groom candidates, tell them to "be yourself". Michael D does not need that advice. He is himself, and speaks accordingly. I think the Irish people will take him to their hearts. Learn to admire him and ponder what he says. And chuckle at the same time.
- James Downey
Irish Independent
