Imagine if our politicians had Bob Geldof’s unwavering focus

By Ronan Mullen YOU have to hand it to Bob Geldof.

He cares. Back in Ethiopia last week for the first time since his Live Aid epic in 1985, his passion for Africa is greater than ever.

Unlike the carefully scripted words of the G8 leaders in Evian, Geldof opted for the módh díreach.

"A million AIDS orphans are wandering around because their parents and teachers have died. Many African countries are starving, but we in the West have a massive food surplus. We can't afford this decline; we can't afford to keep African people in economic chaos.

"They will migrate to our shores, and our social system will buckle under the weight."

That last line was interesting. Geldof was telling the rich West to take care of Africa if it doesn't want to be deluged by needy immigrants. Ahem.

No doubt the people from the aid agencies and the UN were wincing.

Should he have said it? Even if what he said was true, most of us would prefer to think a spirit of common humanity, not one of self-interest, would motivate us to tackle poverty in Africa.

But Sir Bob doesn't care much for such niceties. As he sees it, lives are being lost every minute we sit on the fence.

And if he has to slaughter a couple of sacred cows to get us off that fence, then that's what he will do.

He also praised George W Bush's $15 billion initiative to fight AIDS in poor countries.

"Though we've still got to see the cheque, it's a huge amount of money and it's particularly radical for a neo-conservative government."

Bill Clinton, on the other hand, was a "good guy" who did "f*** all". For Africa that is. And Geldof excoriated the response of the European Union to Africa's AIDS crisis as "pathetic and appalling".

Needless to say, Geldof's comments didn't please everybody. His words were "unhelpful and misinformed", said the British Labour MEP Glenys Kinnock.

And Justin Forsyth, Oxfam's director of campaigns and policy, said the remarks shouldn't be taken out of context.

"Bob Geldof rightly highlighted that the Bush administration deserves credit for dramatically increasing US aid for HIV programmes in Africa," said Forsyth.

"However, Bob is also campaigning to reform the international trade rules where the US administration remains a major impediment to reform. These trade rules disadvantage poor countries by much larger amounts than the US will ever offer in aid."

But it doesn't really matter whether Bob is spot-on with his political analysis. His high-profile, high-expletive trip to Africa was designed to focus the world's attention on its most troubled continent. And he succeeded admirably.

Isn't there something invigorating about this campaigning approach, expletives notwithstanding? Irish politicians and journalists should imitate him. You could freshen up the sterile, insincere atmosphere stifling Irish politics at the moment by applying some of the Geldof formula.

Firstly, observe how Geldof understands the value of praise. Bob's unexpected tribute to the Bush administration contrasts sharply with the high-pitched whine that constantly emanates from politicians, journalists and much of the voluntary sector in this country.

Criticism is sometimes necessary and the Government deserves a good deal of it at the moment. But does that justify our harping negativity about corruption in politics, business and the gardaí, the health service, the schools and the drink culture?

It's got to the point that we are unable to praise anybody other than Pádraig Harrington and Mickey Joe Harte. We have become blinded by our own negativity.

This point struck me forcibly recently when listening to Fr Sean Healy's contributions to the Living Word slot on RTÉ Radio1.

Healy is a man with very definite ideas about economic reform and an undoubted commitment to social justice. But there was something so negative, so carping, in his approach that his ideas were an instant turn-off.

A lot of Fr Healy's negativity may be down to the fact that there is, in truth, a lot wrong with Ireland. The poor, the sick and the elderly are being short-changed all over the place.

Family structures are mutating, not for the better. And you know there is a new tackiness in Irish life when you hear elderly people discussing the latest plot in Coronation Street with the same enthusiasm that they used to reserve for their prayers.

But Ireland is full of hope and heroism too. The Special Olympics has caught the public imagination and looks like it will be a roaring success despite the SARS.

Voluntarism is supposed to be on the decline but you can be fairly sure a cartload of money was raised by hundreds of groups during Monday's Women's Mini-Marathon.

And those same elderly people, despite their obsession with Coronation Street, are playing a stormer in their roles as grandparents and carers and a hundred other things in a country where families are increasingly stretched.

Even in politics good things are happening. Which leads me to the second of Bob Geldof's lessons for Irish public life.

Imagine if, instead of Noel Dempsey, Bob Geldof was the Minister for Education and had decided to reintroduce fees for some third-level students.

Like Dempsey, Geldof's gut feeling would have identified that the abolition of fees, a 1990s gift from the so-called Labour Party to the socially privileged, was bad policy.

But, unlike Dempsey, Geldof would have known exactly what he wanted right from the start. And clung on like a limpet until he got it. Unlike Dempsey, he would have charged around lobbying ministers, politicians and journalists until he had sold his idea to them.

And unlike Dempsey, he would not have climbed down in the face of pathetic arguments. Geldof would have been contemptuous of the way the Labour Party, in particular, is cosying up to the middle classes.

And he would probably have described Pat Rabbitte's u-turn on the issue, opposing the abolition of fees when in government himself while opposing Dempsey's reform now, as 'hypocritical gobshitery'.

Not for Geldof a stressed, red-faced appearance at a Sunday morning press conference to back down on his cause. Another free lesson here: Use the media. Don't be abused by it.

Noel Dempsey's mistake, and that of the cabinet around him, was to care too much about newspaper headlines.

He should have given journalists the sound bites they wanted, but also the mother and father of a dressing down for not backing him on an issue on which he was undoubtedly right.

Journalists secretly knew Dempsey was doing the right thing. But where were the newspaper editorials encouraging him?

And where were the radio and television interviews with representatives of the various charities to explain the educational needs of the underprivileged?

And where were the warnings to the PDs not to sabotage the proposal? The answer is, in this order: unwritten, unbroadcast, and unissued.

The stench of ministerial blood is always more attractive than the fragrance of a good cause.

Politicians, be advised. Find something to believe in and fight for it with every fibre of your being. But remember also that you should not care too much what people think of you.

There is a time to read newspapers and a time not to read them.

Lastly do not, under any circumstances, be pressurised into giving up precious Sunday mornings to give press conferences.

And if Bertie asks you to do so... Well, Bob Geldof has a phrase for it.