Europe’s ‘weakest presidency’ needs a strong candidate

WAKING up at the end of a week that teased us with a whiff of excitement in the presidential race, we’re left with that empty feeling described in the opening line of Samuel Beckett’s novel Murphy: “The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new.”

A lot has happened, in a meaningless way, and everything stays the same. Like Murphy in the novel’s opening scene, trussed up in a rocking chair he “works up to a maximum rock”, there is a sense of purposeless purpose about the looming election. There is nothing new in the race since it got under way in the early summer, and nothing new at all in the politicians’ approach to the presidency.

Their ceremonial flick through the RTÉ Guide to find a candidate on whose fame they could piggy-pack to win the election seems at an end. The independent TDs and senators, who had backed the most popular candidate, David Norris, have accepted they will not put anyone forward, after little success with an unimaginative wishlist that included news-reader Sharon Ni Bheoláin.

Fianna Fáil was bought and sold by veteran broadcaster, Gay Byrne, who danced a merry waltz with Micheál Martin, before announcing he would not run.

By overlooking one of their own in the misguided belief that backing the country’s most famous person would hide their troubled recent past, Fianna Fáil has caused unnecessary anger among what is left of its core support.

Yesterday, GAA broadcaster Micheál Ó Muircheartaigh, said he would continue his policy of “widely keeping out of party politics”. He said the nomination process would be political and so he would stay away.

So the sun has been left to shine on those already in the race — and the two party candidates will be hoping no more high-profile celebrities threaten to throw their hat in the ring.

Candidates themselves have admitted in private that the public aren’t fully engaged in the campaign.

This is normal in an election year. The last time a presidential election was held in the same year as a general election, in 1997, the turn out was low, at 47.6%.

Such is the desire to express apathy that there is a great deal of dedication to, and support for, “the Mary Robinson tapestry rug for president” campaign, which has 1,700 online followers. Its Facebook page features the tapestry greeting world leaders and drinking tea with Obama.

The message is: We’re not all that excited about the presidential race and have begun debating whether we need a President at all — pondering the purposeless purpose of the presidency.

The presidency’s basic problem is that it is neither truly political or truly non-political, as stated in a 1977 book on the office by Michael Gallagher.

The same writer concluded in other studies that the Irish presidency has been perceived in the European context to be “the weakest presidency to be filled by direct election”.

A shortage of inspiration, or desire to exercise great leadership, from the Áras is nothing new.

The first office-holder, Douglas Hyde, was inaugurated unopposed in 1938, following inter-party negotiations.

With Hyde aged 78, in deteriorating health and with little political experience, policy matters were largely left to Taoiseach Éamon de Valera, who was at the peak of his political career.

A combination of factors “went to ensure that power continued to reside with the head of Government”, according to Politics in the Republic of Ireland by Coakley and Gallagher.

Hyde set the tone for the presidency, which was continued by his successor, Sean T O’Kelly, who held office until 1959, “safely and unremarkable”, according to an account by Gemma Hussey.

O’Kelly was replaced by Patrick Hillery, who subsequently said he wanted to do the job with “the minimum of self-projection”.

He exercised some powers when he dissolved the Dáil in 1982, despite attempts by then taoiseach Charles Haughey to prevent this.

Reflecting on this in later years, Hillery wrote: “The most important use of [presidential] powers is sometimes not to use them at all.”

It was not just the office-holders themselves who limited the boundaries of their own powers, but the role set out in the constitution.

Despite it stating the President “takes precedence over all other persons in the state,” it gives it limited powers.

The President has to ask the permission of the Cabinet to leave the state. The Taoiseach must inform the President on domestic and foreign policy matters, but there are no rules on how often they should meet.

The President can refer bills to the Supreme Court to test its constitutionality. But this power is also limited, as it cannot apply to “money bills”, which are usually the most important, involving spending of public finances. In any case, this power has only been used 15 times.

The limits of the office were eventually tested by Erskine Childers, who wanted to set up a think-tank to examine the long-term needs of the country. This was slammed down by the taoiseach of the day, Liam Cosgrave.

Childers’ efforts were continued by Mary Robinson, who also met with opposition in reforming the role. She did manage to shape the political agenda, most notably by shaking hands with Gerry Adams on a visit to west Belfast, and she brought to attention the suffering in Rwanda.

But she, too, was limited by the powers of government, who would not permit her, for example, to chair a committee on the future of the United Nations.

Mary McAleese also found herself constrained when she made her comments about the Nice Treaty in 2002, prompting the Green Party leader, John Gormley, to tell her to “butt out” of politics.

The question a lot of people will be thinking when this election truly gets underway is whether we want the President to “butt out” of anything meaningful or pertinent to our country’s future, or whether we want a political player who can change it for the better.