McCreevy’s record shows why he would admire Maggie’s mettle
He warned that public opinion was turning against the EU in many member states, and people with Maggie's mettle were needed.
She must be the most reviled woman in Ireland. Northern nationalists hate her and even Ian Paisley once expressed the hope that that lying, treacherous woman would burn in hell for all eternity, which was strong stuff even by his astonishing standards of invective.
Thatcher stood up to Big Ian and insisted on implementing the Anglo-Irish Agreement, which formed the foundation for the Good Friday Agreement. She effectively told Northern loyalists that even Tory Britain was tired of their antics.
Republicans, on the other hand, never forgave her for not surrendering to the hunger strikes. The Provisional IRA tried to kill her with the Brighton bomb in 1984. She belittled Garret FitzGerald in dismissing the alternative forms of government suggested by the New Ireland Forum. But, like Ted Heath, she eventually changed her tune about Northern Ireland. Yet few in this country give her due credit.
When Eamon de Valera was confronted with a hunger strike in 1940 he made it clear he would not concede to the demands for political, or prisoner of war status.
"Prisoners would not be allowed to dictate the conditions under which they would be kept in detention," he insisted. The IRA was, in essence, demanding that members "sentenced for any offence whatsoever should serve their sentence in military custody, and thus be treated as though they were members of a military force engaged in legitimate warfare and entitled to be treated as such".
One of the hunger-strikers was Jack Plunkett, a brother of Joseph Mary Plunkett of 1916 fame. The government did not want the hunger-strikers to die, but it was not going to yield to their demands, de Valera warned Plunkett's sister.
Her brother survived, but two others died in that hunger strike before it was called off. Later, after World War II, de Valera allowed Seán McCaughey to die on a hunger and thirst strike. That killed the hunger strike as a tactic against any other de Valera government.
Thatcher merely acted like de Valera in regard to hunger strikes. So why should anyone be surprised that McCreevy would admire her? Love him or loath him, Charlie McCreevy never lacked guts. Back in 1979, when the chickens of the reckless 1977 manifesto were coming home to roost, McCreevy was one of the first to criticise Jack Lynch's stewardship. He actually schemed to oust Lynch and replace him with Haughey.
But it was not the two Charlies who undermined Lynch; that was done by the people of Cork when they voted against Fianna Fáil in the two by-elections in late October 1979, one in Jack's own backyard. He had been giving people what they wanted, but they had come to realise that it was not what they needed. McCreevy recognised that, and hence he turned to Haughey. Some might say he deserved no credit for that. For a time he probably would have been the first to agree. He expected Haughey to tackle the ailing economy, but it took him almost eight years. In the interim he tried to buy popularity in essentially the same way as Lynch and company.
Haughey realised the country was living beyond its means, but he funked the hard decisions. As a result he was ousted in 1981.
Garret FitzGerald's government did try to bring some reality back into our economy, even though he was a kind of prisoner of the fractious Labour Party at the time. Haughey was roundly critical of the new government as they tried to do something.
While others plotted and schemed against Haughey behind the scenes, Charlie McCreevy acted openly.
He was particularly critical of Fianna Fáil's performance in opposition. "We seem to be against everything and for nothing," he said.
On January 11, 1982 he said that elections were "developing into an auction in promises" with scant regard for the national interest. "We are so hell-bent in assuming power that we are prepared to do anything for it."
Bristling with indignation at the criticism, Haughey asked the parliamentary party to expel McCreevy, who spared the meeting the necessity of a divisive vote by withdrawing from the whip voluntarily. But he was invited back within a matter of days when a general election was called. Following his re-election he caused a sensation during Haughey's short-lived GUBU government.
ON October 1, 1982 McCreevy tabled a motion of no confidence in Haughey's leadership for a parliamentary party meeting. He explained that he wanted a change of leadership because there had been a lowering of political standards, mishandling of the economy, as well as the party's failure to secure a majority in two successive general elections.
People want to be governed, not bought, he said, emphasising it was time "to get decency back into the party".
McCreevy's motion was comfortably defeated, as it garnered only 22 votes. "These people have been flushed out now, once, finally and for all," one party activist said. "The situation after tonight is that they had better be ready to kiss Haughey's ass or get out of the party."
Some did kiss the Boss on all four cheeks, but not McCreevy. The mood was so ugly that night that gardaí tried to persuade McCreevy to leave Leinster House by a side entrance, but he refused.
As he emerged from the front door, surrounded by six gardaí, he was met by a jeering group of Haughey supporters, many of whom had been drinking throughout the day as they waited for the outcome of the meeting. "Go back to Kildare," one man kept shouting.
While this country dithered about tackling the economy and tens of thousands emigrated, Thatcher turned around the British economy during the 1980s. In part she did it by taking on and breaking the irrational power of some of the trade unions, especially the miners.
"It has been said that great leaders reflect their time," McCreevy noted in his recent address. "But few leaders transform their time. She did."
Thatcher sought respect rather than popularity. She gave the people what they needed not necessarily what they wanted. That is the essence of good government and proper leadership in a representative democracy.
It takes a certain confidence that frequently manifests itself as arrogance for a person to believe he or she knows better than the people themselves what is best for them. Thatcher had that confidence, and on his record it would seem McCreevy did, too, notwithstanding his appalling handling of the funding for Punchestown.
There were aspects of Thatcher's behaviour towards Ireland that McCreevy did not like, but he admired her political courage. "If we have the courage to say what we believe, to face up to the challenges that are inescapable," he said, "I have no doubt we can and we will regain the people's trust."
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