Out with the old, in with the....
The wind of change may have been sweeping through the corridors of Leinster House, but it left a whiplash sting on just about anyone who happened to be a woman, or under 58 years of age.
As the Dáil reconvened for the carefully choreographed announcement of the new Cabinet, after Enda Kenny’s return from the Áras, TDs swarmed in to see who would fill the 15 front-bench spaces left clear for the top team.
But instead of a government being announced, a sudden 30-minute delay was declared as speculation raged that the ministerial carve-up had resulted in a backstage bust-up. When they finally trouped in, it was clear to see Joan Burton was not happy; the Labour deputy leader was easy to spot as she was only one of two women in Cabinet — a drop even from the appallingly low level of representation in the last heavily derided government.
Ms Burton had also been shafted out of her expected position as the expenditure and public sector reform minister in favour of Brendan Howlin — not much of a reward for the woman who called the banking crisis correctly for Labour.
The only other woman in Cabinet was Fine Gael’s Frances Fitzgerald, who was given the children’s portfolio in what could be seen as another nod to sexist stereotyping.
And talking of stereotypes, there was a striking blond in shocking pink who was turning all the heads — yes, the defiantly different Mick Wallace was strutting his stuff.
A hand casually left in his pocket, no tie and his pink shirt sleeves rolled-up to the elbows, the Wexford Independent delivered his maiden speech in a manner the Dáil had surely never seen before.
And in the bizarre mash-up that was the scrambled seating arrangement for the Dáil before it elected the new Taoiseach and everyone went to their proper places again, developer Mr Wallace — or Mr Pink — sat next to the Mr Red of the Left Alliance, Richard Boyd Barrett, while Sinn Féin’s Gerry Adams chatted amicably to his Thatcherite Fine Gael neighbour Leo Varadkar, as the four remaining members of the outgoing Cabinet cut a rather ungainly and lonely looking rump squashed into the corner of the front row by the Labour hordes to their left.
A giant bright gold handbag sported by a fresh female deputy competed with Mr Pink’s shirt for gaudy ensemble piece of the day. But though newly elected Ceann Comhairle Sean Barrett was keen to exercise a firm early hand on the newbies, he did not ask anyone to turn down the colour volume on their outfits.
He did, however, clearly think that Ming was the first name, rather than the nickname, of the ‘decriminalise cannabis’ campaigner Luke Flanagan and addressed him as such before the Roscommon-South Leitrim TD gave a lively address, listing many of the places he had lived in Europe — before an unkind opponent heckled: “But did you do any work there?”
And then there was Enda. Finally at the culmination of a faltering 36-year walk to power, fighting back tears as he paid tribute to his mother and his late father stating: “They walk with me every step of this heart-stopping journey.”
But some parts of Enda’s speech were so flowery and well, downright hippyish, you wondered if he’d stood too close to Ming at some stage and accidently been affected by passive inhaling.
“It is said that the tomorrow imprinted on our ancestral retina is our today,” was followed by a strange meander through “the long Hibernian nights on the western edge of Europe” where we imagined “the generational lightness of our soul”. He did have a nice line about our horizons not being fixed but travelling with us as we go, but surely that also means you never actually get to where you intend to go in the first place — not really the best omen with that IMF re-negotiation looming.
Enda was on stronger ground with his wife Fionnuala, watching from the gallery with their three children. After Micheál Martin had graciously praised Mrs Kenny for her role as a former FF press officer, Enda joked: “Were she still with Fianna Fáil, it might be in a much stronger position today.”
Sinn Féin president Gerry Adams seemed rather nervous in his new home and rose to question and qualify procedure far more than anyone else.
But the Shinner clearly wanted to be noticed, occupying Eamon Gilmore’s old seat and sporting a prominent Easter lilly on his lapel.
As the remnant Fianna Fáilers were scattered to the opposition benches for the first time in 14 years, after Mr Kenny’s election as Taoiseach, they looked like a beaten down bunch of political refugees, desperately trying to come to terms with their new surroundings as they remained bewildered at the speed and scale of their fall from grace.
But it was not plain sailing on the government benches either, as Taoiseach and Tánaiste used the first woman attorney general, Marie Whelan, as a human shield to be cited as defence against charges of sexism — but she will not have a vote at Cabinet, while highly capable deputies like Roisín Shortall, Jan O’Sullivan and Kathleen Lynch were overlooked completely for a first-rank role.
And, as without the more youthful profile of Simon Coveney and Mr Varadkar, the average age of the government would top 58, an ultra-cautious, rather than courageous, hue hung over the proceedings.
Especially as the almost completely male Cabinet comes after the two parties accepted Fianna Fáil’s financial targets for the next two years and kept in place the government press secretary who served Bertie and Brian Cowen — despite Labour and Fine Gael being so critical of the botched handling of the IMF bailout announcements.
Not such a perfect first day for Enda and Eamon’s fabled era of New Politics, then.
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