Clash of conscience

Colm Keaveney, essentially a member of the opposition, chaired a meeting of the Labour parliamentary party at the weekend. Michael Clifford reports

Here’s a political meeting straight out of Pat Shortt’s imagination.

Last Saturday, the national executive of the Labour Party met for a scheduled gathering. This being a political party, the meeting dealt with, believe it or not, politics. Yet the chair of the meeting, Colm Keaveney, left the room when “political matters” were under consideration. That’s according to the party leader, Eamon Gilmore.

The question immediately arises: If Keaveney wasn’t present when “political issues” were being discussed, when was he actually chairing the meeting?

Was there a discussion on intercounty hurling, or perhaps the merits or otherwise of Quentin Tarantino’s latest movie? What exactly forms the agenda of a political party meeting if not politics?

That’s an area where Shortt’s creation, Councillor Maurice Hickey, might find some fertile ground.

Keaveney lost the whip of the Labour parliamentary party in December when he voted against the budget measure that cut child benefit.

His decision was preceded by three days of the most public soul-searching to be observed this side of the Bible. Time and again, he staged wrestling bouts for the media in which he took on his conscience. Unusually for a politician, particularly a Labour politician, his conscience eventually emerged victorious.

Under rules practised by most parties in this State, he then lost the whip, and effectively rendered himself a member of the opposition. Thus he became the fifth member of the Labour parliamentary party to go overboard since the general election.

The outstanding problem in Keaveney’s case was his position as chairman of the party, to which he had been elected by ordinary members, despite opposition from Gilmore. Keaveney refused public entreaties to resign the position as a matter of honour. There was no shifting him.

Now the party has as its leader the deputy leader of the country, and for a chair a member of the opposition. To whom do the ordinary members show greater loyalty? In normal circumstances, the party’s leader would have first call of their fidelity.

But in this instance, Keaveney, who was directly elected, could claim to be the primary standard bearer for the party, on the basis that he has stood up for traditional values.

The whole thing has become a major headache for Gilmore. Last Saturday, he could have brought it to a head, but chose not to. He was batting on a sticky wicket. There are no rules to deal with the situation that has arisen, simply because nobody in their wildest dreams could ever have imagined such a thing arising. In addition, there is absolutely no discernible movement among the general membership to put pressure on Keaveney to resign.

There are conflicting versions on how much of the meeting Keaveney actually chaired. According to Gilmore, Keaveney was absent when “political matters” were discussed.

“Clearly, it wasn’t tenable that you could have discussions about Government business or about the business of the parliamentary party or about political matters when someone who voted with the opposition was in the room,” Gilmore told RTÉ Radio’s This Week programme.

“We did find a way in which that can be dealt with, and that is that he withdraws from the meetings when my report and when political issues are under discussions.”

Keaveney, by contrast, told reporters he was present at the two-hour meeting for everything except the presentation of Gilmore’s report, which he says took about 20 minutes.

Either way, the situation is farcical, and it looks likely to persist until September, when Keaveney’s term of office is up. If the former trade union official decides to run for the position again, Gilmore’s leadership could face choppy waters.

Keaveney is popular with the grassroots, and has garnered support for what is perceived as his principled stand. While some might view his defection as an electorally astute move ahead of the expected massacre facing Labour deputies at the next election, there does remain a constituency within the party that considers he took an honourable course.

If Keaveney were to be elected again, Gilmore’s position would come under serious threat. Such a vote could well be interpreted as a rejection of the leadership’s position in government, and by extension Gilmore’s tenure.

More than 30 years ago, at another Labour Party conference, the then leader Michael O’Leary lost a crucial vote that would have redistributed power from the general membership and towards the parliamentary party.

He was a lot more eager to engage in coalition with Fine Gael than many of the membership. That 1982 conference effectively ended O’Leary’s tenure as leader.

To be fair, O’Leary was a distant figure within the party anyway, and his position was always tenuous. Gilmore is relatively secure, but political history is always lurking around the corner, waiting to pounce.

In the meantime, the ordinary Labour members are in the enviable position of having their cake and eating it. The party is in power, tempering, as many Labour people would see it, the worst excesses of Fine Gael, while managing to get a word in for some of Labour’s traditional values. But it’s a horrendous time to be governing, with little to offer the citizenry but blood, sweat, and austerity.

Gilmore and the other leading lights in the party see themselves as having the courage to do this dirty job, while others within their party abandon their responsibilities to do likewise.

“There are some people in the Labour Party who are more comfortable in opposition than government,” Gilmore said, soon after Keaveney’s defection.

Those who are discomfited can now look to their party chairman as representing the values which are twisting in the wind of the troika’s strictures. It’s a role that Keaveney would appear to relish, staying put in order to articulate the position of the grassroots, as he would see it.

So the membership can claim allegiance to both the party leadership and a figure that stands in opposition to the party’s role in government. The duality is in sharp contrast to what unfolded in the Green Party in the last administration, when its traditional values were challenged as the economy fell apart. People such as Patricia McKenna, who opposed participation in government, did the decent thing and left, rather than try to foment further opposition in the ranks.

By contrast, the approach of Labour has more in common with Fianna Fáil under Bertie Ahern’s leadership. Whenever tough decisions were being considered, a procession of Fianna Fáil backbenchers made their way to the plinth to voice opposition to the uncaring government. At times, even Ahern himself managed to distance himself to what “they” were doing.

Labour members can now claim to be similarly positioned, as simultaneously enjoying both power and opposition. The only difference for them this time around is that, while Ahern approved of such shenanigans, Gilmore and those around him are hopping mad.