All the promises have neutralised each other, so it’s a beauty contest

It already seems it’s the promises they can’t make that might mean all the difference.

If the Taoiseach, for instance, were to promise that FF, not the PDs, would run the Department of Health, it would be a vote-winner. That’s a promise he probably wishes he could make, but can’t

WHEN President John F Kennedy addressed our parliament, Seamus Pattison had been a TD for just two years. Elected for Labour in Carlow/Kilkenny in 1961, he went on to serve a remarkable 46 unbroken years representing the people of those two counties with incredible distinction and approachability. He was particularly associated with Kilkenny, of course, and served as its mayor three times.

Last Thursday, Seamus was the Father of the House, the honorary title given to the longest serving member of the Dáil. He was also its Leas Ceann Comhairle and the only surviving member who had been there for that historic address.

Last Sunday it was all over, terminated in a flash by the announcement that the Taoiseach had been to the Áras and dissolved the Dáil. Seamus Pattison had already decided he would not contest the next general election. He was prepared for the moment when the Taoiseach advised the House that he intended to go to see the President.

He would have deserved the tributes that would have been the last act of that Dail, and they would have been heartfelt. But it never happened. In a snub to tradition, and to all of those who were not going to return, the Taoiseach chose to let the Dáil die rather than go out with grace.

It’s hard to figure out why the Taoiseach chose to end the Dáil the way he did. My esteemed colleague Terry Prone wrote here yesterday that it was all the result of careful planning, although it looked more like a lot of stumbling around.

The dissolution of the Dáil was followed by a badly-managed press launch, with the Taoiseach unwilling to take questions and a spate of newspaper stories about personal finances. Maybe it’s all designed to lull the opposition into a false sense of security!

In any event, we have the election we have all been waiting for.

Again, Terry wrote that there are going be as many issues in this election as there are constituencies, and of course she’s right about that. There is no doubt whatever that there will be things troubling the candidates at the doors in Clondalkin that will never be mentioned in Tralee, and vice versa.

But already it seems clear there is one big question overhanging the election, and the answer to that question (and its corollary) will determine the outcome.

Do we want to give them five more years? If we don’t, can we trust the alternative? There will be endless banging on about the ‘issues’ in the days and weeks ahead. But in the minds of most voters, questions about the issues are already settled. If this election was about Northern Ireland, the Taoiseach would be a shoo-in. If it were about low taxes, the Government would be on a winner. If it were solely about the state of the health service, ministers could be saying goodbye to their State cars now. If it were about the traffic, the opposition would have it in the bag.

And if it were about promises, there’d be nothing to choose between them. Every time anyone says “I want to reform stamp duty”, everyone else says “me, too”.

There isn’t the remotest possibility that by the time it’s all over any reasonable voter will be able to make head or tail about who said what on the 18% tax rate, the higher tax rate, the pupil/teacher ratio, the extra gardaí, the extra hospital beds, the quality of our drinking water, the price of our houses. There have been so many promises already that in a sense they have neutralised each other.

Indeed it already seems that it’s the promises they can’t make that might mean all the difference in this election. If the Taoiseach, for instance, were to promise that in the next government it would be Fianna Fáil, and not the PDs, that would run the Department of Health, that would be a vote-winner. That’s one of those promises he probably wishes he could make, but can’t.

In 1977, an election was won on promises. And Jack Lynch, the winner, lived to regret it. Ever since then, the promises made by political parties have much more to do with how they want to be seen rather than anything else.

Pat Rabbitte’s surprise announcement that, if elected, he would cut the standard rate to 18%, for instance, was a pre-emptive strike. His primary purpose was to ensure that throughout the campaign Labour couldn’t be labelled as a ‘high tax’ party. That’s not to say it isn’t a solemn promise — it’s just that these days all politicians know that the promises they make serve a number of purposes.

The key overhanging issue in virtually every election since the late 1970s has been character, not promises. Sometimes rash promises (Fine Gael’s in the last election) or political events (the mismanagement of the health service in 1989) have dominated particular elections.

But — for good or ill — the characters of Charles Haughey, Garret FitzGerald, Des O’Malley, Dick Spring, Albert Reynolds, and Bertie Ahern have been the deciding influence in the minds of voters over the past quarter of a century. That, in a way, is what makes this election different. Not because it won’t be a test of character, but perhaps because there are so many different characters. The coverage of an Irish general election nowadays lends it more of a presidential style, but there are still four clearly dominant characters. How they emerge from the campaign will determine its outcome to a considerable extent.

Of all of them, Pat Rabbitte is generally perceived as being the ablest. He doesn’t have the battalions he should, and therefore will need to fight an energetic campaign. The people need to get a much stronger sense of him among them. And they will need to be totally convinced that he really does mean it when he argues for a complete change.

MICHAEL McDOWELL is seen as the most polarising politician of his generation, and of course the cleverest. Anyone who might have thought he needed to soften his image a bit won’t be too heartened by the slogan he has chosen — ‘Don’t throw it all away’. We needn’t expect too many positive messages there.

Bertie Ahern is generally perceived as — well, as what? In 1997, he was young, callow, enthusiastic, earnest. In 2002, with accomplishments already under his belt, he was more rounded, still earnest and honest, still one of our own.

How is he seen now? Is the deviousness more apparent than the honesty, the slippage more obvious than the successes? Has a more clouded, troubled figure emerged? Enda Kenny is the one who must emerge from this campaign. He has made a great start, coming across increasingly as honourable and decent. But he’s coming from a long way behind in terms of public perception and is likely to be more closely watched than any party leader in a generation. That’s because he, and he alone, has the answer to the question most people are asking — can we trust the alternative? If he can reassure the people on that score, he could emerge a winner.