The divine right of kings wasn’t ended forever by the guillotine

I WAS at a family wedding in France last week. On the way back to Paris we stayed overnight in Versailles, and spent our last day exploring its magnificent palace, built by Louis XIV.

What, you’re probably wondering, have my holliers got to do with politics or the state of the world, but bear with me for a minute and all will become clear.

When you stand in the king’s bedroom at Versailles, you see that it is positioned exactly in the centre of the palace, with a view down the long boulevard that runs right though the town and points directly all the way to Paris. Apart from the sumptuousness of the room itself (there’s more gold around the walls than you or I are ever likely to see again), this room was designed for a king who was, literally, monarch of all he surveyed.

The bedroom was designed for other purposes as well. Two of the most important ceremonies in the palace were called the levée (which took place when the king woke up) and the couchée (at the other end of the day, when he was going to bed).

During both ceremonies, courtiers would help him to dress and undress and assist him with his other ablutions (our guide was too discreet to go into details). Apparently, the more favoured the courtier, the more intimate the ablutions with which he was allowed to assist.

But throughout the palace, the evidence is everywhere that this was a regime that not only patented, but passionately believed in, the divine right of kings. One of the bedrooms at one point in its history was wallpapered with one hundred tonnes of beaten silver. Priceless pieces of furniture, inlaid with jewellery of all kinds, littered the rooms. Several generations of the royal family lived there over the best part of a hundred years, robbing their country blind (and doing it casually) to maintain the grandeur with which they were surrounded, and becoming hopelessly corrupt in the process.

No one knows if the story is apocryphal or not, but it was the last queen of the line, Marie Antoinette, who said “why don’t they eat cake?” when told that the peasants were starving because they had no bread. By all accounts, she wasn’t a callous or bloodless person, just hopelessly removed from any sense of the suffering of people. Versailles is now a museum dedicated to the glories of France. It could well serve as an object lesson, because it’s impossible to see it all without realising why the French Revolution had to happen. A succession of kings who lived for self-glorification, who had only contempt for ordinary people, succeeded in paving the way for a revolution which introduced and enshrined the three great principles of freedom, equality, and solidarity.

I came home from Versailles to read the report of what’s likely to happen when the SSIAs mature in a couple of years’ time. This grandiose scheme, fuelled by nearly three billion tax euro, is likely to cause a huge spending splurge and contribute to a dose of overheating in the economy when the investors pick up their cheques. Critical social issues have lain neglected for the last four years, while that vast amount of tax money was being poured into a scheme designed specifically for people with disposable income.

The middle-class boon that will result (because few, if any, of the poor will have been able to invest in an SSIA) will widen the gaps in our community even further. Some who could already afford cake have been enabled to eat a lot more of it as a result of the SSIAs. Those who struggle to keep bread on the table will have to look on while new cars and more foreign holidays go elsewhere.

And I came home in time to see President Bush nominated to fight a second term as president. If he wins, then between father and son, a member of the Bush family will have been in the White House, or a heartbeat away from it as vice-president, for 20 years. The divine right of kings may not be visible in the clothes they wear or the quality of their wallpaper, but it is surely to be found in the unsavoury connections with money, oil and construction with which that family is surrounded.

The Bush family also believes that some should be able to stuff themselves with as much cake as a tax break for the wealthy can bring. They believe in their own right to rule, and were fortunate that another member of the family was governor of Florida at a time when that state stood between the family and the White House. Like the kings of 18th century France, they are surrounded by courtiers willing to perform any ablution, and by people whose familiarity with any concept of equality or solidarity extends only to their own immediate circles.

The polarisation and division they have caused in the United States, and between the US and the rest of the world, has already caused immense damage, and that will get worse as the revolution within the Islamic world gathers pace.

But the principles that flowed from the French Revolution are strong and embedded, strong enough to endure. A couple of things happened after I came home from France that made me realise that some principles are strongest when they are to be found in the hearts and actions of individuals. They happened to two men I know who each, in his own way, embodies and personalises a commitment to principle, whose lives and values were and are lasting and real testimony to the notions of ‘liberté, egalité, fraternité.’

One of them, John Ryan of Limerick, died this week, after a short illness.

You may not have heard of him, but he was loved and respected throughout the disability movement. The father of two autistic boys, he fought for dignity, equality and freedom for them and demanded the solidarity of the community for everyone with a disability. The one thing John would have appreciated about Versailles (that you won’t find anywhere in Ireland), is that, nowadays, people with a disability and their escorts are not just admitted free, but are made welcome.

A doughty and tireless campaigner, John was never afraid to speak his mind honestly and openly, though he treated everyone with the respect he demanded for his own children. His untimely death will rob the disability movement of a tireless champion, and of a great friend and vital character.

And finally, a friend of mine (actually a man I regard as a brother) is in hospital this week recovering from a serious operation. He’s had a tough time, but hopefully by the time you read this he’ll be on the mend. His name is Pat Magner, and he will be well-known to everyone in the political world as a man of character, intelligence and sharp social conscience.

A former Labour senator, he is a key figure in building the opposition to this Government and in helping to shape and organise an alternative based on principle. Get well soon, Pat. You’re not just missed, you’re needed.