Bertie and McCanns will find too much spin makes stone of the heart

PINK was the defining colour of the last week. The shocking fuchsia suit Margaret Thatcher wore to meet Gordon Brown wasn’t just the first thing to hand in the wardrobe. As a former British foreign secretary acidly put it, “she has a perfectly good blue dress at home”. She was seeking attention and she got it, dominating the headlines at the expense of Conservative leader David Cameron’s long-awaited ‘green’ report.

Likewise, Celia Larkin sent out subliminal messages by appearing at the Mahon Tribunal in baby pink. A very different shade from Thatcher’s, it said femininity, vulnerability and, crucially, innocence. The same goes for her evidence. She opted for the Nuremberg defence: “I was just taking orders.”

And when is there a news bulletin without the colour pink? Kate McCann seemingly doesn’t leave the house without her missing daughter’s Cuddle Cat toy ostentatiously peeping from her handbag.

Three strong women very knowingly using pink in different ways to make their points for them. Was there a theme here? Lessons for the Taoiseach? Perhaps.

Plenty of sketch writers picked up on Baroness Thatcher’s decision to sport a reddish shade. Was she somehow giving her blessing to that most Labour of prime ministers? It seemed incredible, although her scorn for Cameron’s ‘touchy-feely’ Toryism is palpable.

Later we learned that Thatcher had identified Brown as long ago as the mid-80s as a rising star. They had met occasionally in the Westminster tearooms to chat over affairs of state, the fresher at the feet of the empress.

Thatcher and Brown have more in common than either has with Cameron, the Etonian grandson of a baronet. They are the products of the lower middle class. They both live for politics and subscribe to the Protestant work ethic. They both put economics at the heart of their politics: no ‘quality of life’ flim-flam for them. And, whatever the rhetoric, Brown has no intention of undermining the Thatcherite legacy: flexible markets, privatisation and low taxes. But the sketch writers missed a seemingly obvious point about that outfit: it was almost exactly the same shade she wore the day she tearfully left Downing Street all those years ago.

Which brings us to the Taoiseach. Of his future plans we know very little, only that he wants to choose his own departure date. Any examination of history shows that very few heads of government have that luxury.

True, some were turned out by the electorate, but that’s not a fate going to befall Bertie. Equally, no Fianna Fáil leader has gone voluntarily since Lemass. Lynch was undermined by the ‘real republicans’. Haughey succumbed to scandals and prompts from Des O’Malley and Albert Reynolds. Reynolds, in turn, did the decent thing when Labour walked out in 1994.

Across the water, most prime ministers have resigned on account of ill-health — Churchill, Macmillan, Wilson — or lost elections – Attlee, Callaghan, Major. All the rest simply lost the confidence of their respective parties. None went out on a high. There is a tide in the affairs of men. Eden cocked up over Suez. Thatcher wanted to go “on and on”, but her parliamentary colleagues decided she was a liability. Blair promised “a full third term”, but left just two years after his third election in the wake of ministerial resignations.

Ahern has been a very great Taoiseach with two massive accomplishments to his name — a strong economy and Northern peace. He hasn’t messed up foreign affairs like Eden, Thatcher and Blair did in Britain. There is an argument that with a recent spectacular election victory under his belt, he should — like Lemass — only go when he likes.

All political parties tend to turn on a leader they perceive has lost his or her utility. Bertie isn’t going to win another general election for Fianna Fáil: he has said so. His achievements are behind him: no-one believes that a different Taoiseach is going to wreck Stormont or intervene in such a way that damages the economy.

On the contrary, there is a perfectly good Fianna Fáil Taoiseach-in-waiting who has a detailed knowledge of both the finances and the Northern situation. There is no sign — yet — that the Mahon Tribunal will fatally wound the Taoiseach, although the evidence given last week by Celia Larkin in particular, while very largely corroborating the Taoiseach’s story, left a sour taste in many mouths.

There is much irritation among Fianna Fáilers with the tribunal, but who really wants the electorate to turn the 2009 local and European elections into a referendum on the dodges, the ‘dig-outs’ and the dollars (alleged)? Equally, at the time of writing, there seems no reason why Bertie cannot just brazen out the tribunal’s investigations for the time being at least, if his backbenchers will allow him.

Very many people — not generally Fianna Fáilers — are appalled that the then finance minister took money personally for giving dinner-time briefings and appointed people to State boards because they were his friends. On the other hand, examine closely the photos of Bertie in Dublin Castle last week. In particular, look at his shoes. Are they from Church’s or Gucci or Ferragamo? Far from it. They have the cheapest and most plasticky soles. They look as if they came from a factory in deepest Slovakia and couldn’t have cost him more than €30. Perhaps he was at one time living beyond his means — perhaps not – but where is the island retreat, the Georgian mansion and the silken shirts?

STILL, what might tip the scales against Bertie — as it is damaging the world’s most famous holidaymakers at the moment — is a surfeit of spin. The more Gerry and Kate McCann have seemed to be orchestrating public sympathy, the less credible they have become.

Journalists regard it as their prerogative to exploit, to use, victims among the general public. They don’t like to be used by them. Whether or not you believe any of the accusations made against them, who doesn’t find the McCanns just a little bit irritating? Leave Cuddle Cat at home, for heaven’s sake, Kate!

Journalists skilled in ferreting out relatives, friends, friends of relatives and relatives of friends are somewhat taken aback when the apparent victims start doing the job for them, all but handing out contact details for ‘today’s family friend’. As long ago as that very un-private visit to the Pope, people started to wonder who was using whom?

It’s the same with Bertie. When his staunchest journalistic supporters start whining on about his tiredness, loneliness, terrible deprivations and unmade bed — as if men are incapable of making beds — they go over the top.

Moreover, when cabinet ministers start questioning the whole tribunal process, floating voters are reminded of the old Fianna Fáil that believed it could do as it pleased so long as it won elections. Many people are prepared to forgive past misdeeds. Asking for sympathy is going too far.

As Bertie and the McCanns are finding out to their cost, news management is all very well, but it needs subtlety. Too long a sacrifice can make a stone of the heart. So can too much spin.