Why Fianna Fáil’s lonely voice of realism is whistling in the wind

IN the fall-out from the Laffoy Commission debacle, Minister for Education Noel Dempsey has come up with what can only be described as an inspiration on how to cut down on costs, numbers and delays.

On behalf of the Government, he is thinking of introducing "sampling", which will drastically reduce costs and the number of people seeking to be heard. It is an inspired notion, not for Laffoy but for elections to the Dáil.

While the details would have to be worked out, it is a concept which would have the virtue of tremendous popular support.

Basically, following the minister's thinking, the numbers of elected representatives would be reduced, which would be a huge financial saving. They could be reduced from, say, 166 to 80. Think what that would save on salaries immediately, as well as the huge expenses they draw.

There would be fewer ministers and fewer State cars, and there would be considerably fewer special advisers. In fact, the latter could be dropped altogether, as could the second division of junior ministers.

They could lease a jet now and again, if one were needed, and there immediately would be a saving of about 100 million.

The reduced number in the Dáil could be selected by sampling, the system which the minister suggests is good enough for a future commission on the child sexual abuse issue.

Seeing that all the politicians largely stand for the same thing, and there is little if any difference between the parties, each of them could draw up a list of names put forward at convention.

Those lists would then be submitted to a small commission drawn from the electorate that's important representing the four provinces who would then select those who should be sent to the Dáil.

Alternatively, they could just put all the names into a hat and draw out 80 names at random.

It might not be a model for a democratic system, but then we don't have too much of that commodity in this country at the moment. Certainly not if you think you got the government you voted for, and most definitely not if you expect to get justice from it if you are one of those unfortunate victims of the regime of sexual abuse that was the responsibility of the State.

No doubt the Laffoy Commission was mentioned in Sligo during the Fianna Fáil gathering, but it was hardly in the context of the above.

Taoiseach Bertie Ahern lectured his flock of ministers and TDs on Wednesday that the country's problems were "problems of success".

If that's the case, then the Fianna Fáil/Progressive Democrats conglomeration is certainly successful.

Be it in the area of health or education, the cost of living, housing, the lack of gardaí, the debacle of the Laffoy Commission and stealth taxes there are certainly enough problems to attest to the success rate, by Bertie's yardstick, of this so-called government.

Fianna Fáil ministers, deputies and senators took themselves off to Sligo for a special parliamentary party seminar ahead of the Dáil term. It's rather like the cramming before the Leaving Cert, to catch up on subjects such as health, education, the cost of living, lack of gardaí, the Laffoy Commission and stealth taxes.

But, unlike the Leaving Cert students, those attending the Fianna Fáil crash course know that the subjects will definitely come up, so the head-bashing session I nearly said think-tank is essential so they'll know what people are talking about.

They got a grind in the mysteries of the economy and social change and how to tell ordinary voters to exist on wages and salaries which are being outstripped by the cost of living, unless you happen to be on a Dáil salary.

Apparently, one of the incentives for them to attend the series of workshops annually is that the Fianna Fáil backbenchers get a chance to rub shoulders with the Taoiseach and his ministers, which would suggest they don't otherwise meet them from one end of the year to the other.

Before they departed, Bertie Ahern's immortal words of encouragement to the bewildered were to tell them to keep their heads up. Which is, of course, what Ned O'Keeffe did before he arrived in Sligo. But he didn't keep his mouth shut.

THE Cork East TD forgot that Fianna Fáil deputies are not required to have minds of their own: they are elected to their comfortable Dáil seats, not to represent those who sent them there, but simply to keep the party in power. In the event of a conflict of interest between what's good for the electorate and what's best for the party, the Chief Whip will salve their collective conscience.

In an outburst before the Sligo retreat, Ned O'Keeffe had the temerity to tell the Taoiseach to sack four of his ministers and half of his junior ministers. The only thing wrong with that was his mathematics: he should have demanded the entire Cabinet go, including the Taoiseach.

With characteristic modesty he said: "It is not for me to make suggestions," before going to do just that.

"Four Cabinet ministers should be replaced and seven or eight ministers of State. What Bertie needs is new blood. The Cabinet are letting the Taoiseach down and seem to lack vision and flair."

Now if, like me, you ever wondered who enjoyed the largesse which the Celtic Tiger spewed all over the country and which the previous Ahern-led Government claimed would solve all our problems, Ned O'Keeffe has part of the answer: "The existing Cabinet is tired because of having a good time in the last Government."

Well, it's nice to know that somebody had a good time because as far as the rest of are concerned, the Celtic Tiger could have been an exhibit in Dublin Zoo or Fota Wildlife Park. Top of his hit-list was Agriculture Minister Joe Walsh, and it might have been assumed that the Mitchelstown TD was angling for the job, especially as he was formerly a junior minister for agriculture.

But Ned O'Keeffe is on the back benches and, in an interview in this newspaper this week, he accepts he has little chance of ever getting back into ministerial office.

Maybe that's why the man with almost 21 years' experience in the Dáil feels he can speak out freely. In fact, it's more than that because he considers himself in the role of Fianna Fáil policeman.

"My job is to keep the party on the straight and narrow. I see myself as the voice of realism in the party. I think this is one of the problems Fianna Fáil have at this time. They are not addressing the issues on the ground."

Ned O'Keeffe, if only he realised it, is whistling in the wind.