A final farewell to political stage

HE was the consummate sorcerer's apprentice, when Charlie Haughey anointed Bertie Ahern as the most cunning and most devious of them all, the Drumcondra man lived up the billing. The three times Taoiseach was also something of a tree-card-trick merchant, astounding many with his ability to persuade, deal and delegate.

His interventions in many industrial disputes and his gift for pulling rabbits out of the hat were second to none.

He had no difficulty in claiming credit for the 'boom', famously dismissing concerns about the excesses with the pronouncement that "the boom times were getting boomer".

For the four decades Bertie Ahern was in politics, reaching poll-topping heights in his heartland, the man with the popular touch could do no wrong. But in recent years the stellar trajectory took a more tawdry turn. His prolonged victory lap before leaving office took on a farcical air.

Ahern's legacy as Taoiseach is complex to put it at its kindest.

His outstanding achievement was the peace process and the restoration of normality in Northern Ireland.

It says much about what followed that such a historical legacy, ridding the bomb and the bullet from this island, could be eclipsed by a series of unfortunate events most of which were of his own making.

Ahern's performances at the Tribunal at Dublin Castle were shambolic and unsatisfactory. His inability to provide plausible answers about how the "ordinary man", as he loved to be regarded, could have tens of thousands of pounds in a safe, and could be the leader of the country without having a bank account, cost him much credibility.

Yet, having first become Taoiseach, in 1997 Ahern was a breath of fresh air.

We all thought that the arrival of "anorak man" would herald a new era after the shocking revelations about the high life enjoyed by Charles Haughey and the Charvais-shirt era.

People loved the man with the common touch, who could speak plainly and seemed to have a grasp of how the man in the street made ends meet.

However, when the warning signs lit up the bridge, Ahern was too ready to scoff.

An already over-heating economy was driven into the red zone by "Bertienomics", when, rather than cooling things down, spending was actually increased and taxes were cut. These two populist flourishes were a sign that Mr Ahern had lost touch with "the fundamentals" which he liked to boast were sound.

Holding on to power became the raison d'etre, and an election was won on the back of a 'folie de grandeur'.

When leading commentators questioned the dubious wisdom of largesse, Ahern asked: "Why don't these people go off and commit suicide?"

The common touch which had been his greatest asset had vanished.

It is probably simplistic to lay all the blame for the spectacular economic crash we are now living through at the door of any single individual but it is reasonable to say that Ahern's footsteps can be traced through much of the debris.

Bertie Ahern was most at home in his base with his pint of Bass at the bar and a hardcore coterie of loyal supporters.

His sixth-sense of what the people wanted somehow evaded him at the end and his bowing off the political stage was almost over-due such was the chorus of cat calls,

When the curtain came down on Bertie Ahern, it was not "the kebabs that were plotting against him", it was his inability to remember his lines. The great ad libber had stayed around too long.

To his credit Bertie Ahern became Taoiseach three times and this can not be taken away from him.

Perhaps in time he will be judged less harshly, but he walks off the plinth with too little done and too much more to do to win an ovation.

Irish Independent