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Yes Taoiseach: Irish Politics From Behind Closed Doors
Book by Waters, Stephen John, Dunlop, Frank
- GenresPolitics
368 pages, Hardcover
First published January 27, 2004
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
November 16, 2024
https://fromtheheartofeurope.eu/yes-taoiseach-irish-politics-from-behind-closed-doors-by-frank-dunlop/
A really interesting insider account of Irish politics particularly in the period from 1974 to 1982, when the author started out as press secretary for Fianna Fáil, then in opposition, and was then appointed spokesman of the government when they unexpectedly won a huge majority in 1977; under the Fine Gael / Labour coalition, he was not as central but still had plenty of scope to observe.
I found the first two thirds of the book totally gripping. Dunlop had a front seat as Jack Lynch built Fianna Fáil up from its bitter defeat in 1973, and takes us through the 1977 election campaign and the stunning result. He then sees Lynch slowly losing his grip over the next couple of years, until he is forced to resign in 1979 and replaced by Charles Haughey (“Charlie” to everyone). His description of the Lynch government, having won an unexpectedly huge majority which was in fact built on a very fragile electoral margin, is grimly reminiscent of the problems faced by Keir Starmer and the Labour Party in the UK today.
Dunlop defends Haughey strongly against all allegations of corruption and wrong-doing, and tells stories of his humanity – and also of monstrous behaviour and gross political misjudgements. It’s clear that Haughey was his favourite Taoiseach. Alas, Dunlop’s defence of Haughey’s probity rings a little hollow in the light of his own subsequent criminal conviction for bribing Dublin councillors, not to mention what has since come to light about Haughey. But for me, coming from a perspective where my family were distinctly not Haughey fans, it is healthy to read another view. (Even if it is wrong.)
Dunlop was less close to the centre under Garret Fitzgerald, and spent most of his time in the coalition governments of 1981-2 and 1982-7 assisting the Fine Gael minister John Boland (I must admit I had completely forgotten about him). He then retreated into private sector public affairs and lobbying, though was recruited again by Fianna Fáil for the 1992 election. The book was published in 2004, ten years after the events it describes, and contemporaneous with Dunlop singing like a bird to the Mahon Tribunal.
There is very little about ideology here and a lot about political character, psychology and motivation. In particular there’s very little about Northern Ireland, other than complaining about the difficulties it raised, praising Haughey’s attempts to build a relationship with Thatcher and explaining his own perfunctory contacts with British diplomats, and regretting the (peripheral) impact of the hunger strikes in the first 1982 election. It shows how little the reality on the ground in the North mattered for Dublin (and other southern) politicians.
I am personally sympathetic to the anthropological approach to politics, and I love gossip anyway (who doesn’t?) so I generally enjoyed Dunlop’s account. It is occasionally a little too hand-wavey – he never quite says what he thinks the facts were behind the Arms Trial, except that in his view Lynch was more guilty and Charlie less so than most people think. But some of his observations about the relations between politicians and the media, politicians and the voters, and indeed politicians and reality itself, are spot-on.
A really interesting insider account of Irish politics particularly in the period from 1974 to 1982, when the author started out as press secretary for Fianna Fáil, then in opposition, and was then appointed spokesman of the government when they unexpectedly won a huge majority in 1977; under the Fine Gael / Labour coalition, he was not as central but still had plenty of scope to observe.
I found the first two thirds of the book totally gripping. Dunlop had a front seat as Jack Lynch built Fianna Fáil up from its bitter defeat in 1973, and takes us through the 1977 election campaign and the stunning result. He then sees Lynch slowly losing his grip over the next couple of years, until he is forced to resign in 1979 and replaced by Charles Haughey (“Charlie” to everyone). His description of the Lynch government, having won an unexpectedly huge majority which was in fact built on a very fragile electoral margin, is grimly reminiscent of the problems faced by Keir Starmer and the Labour Party in the UK today.
Dunlop defends Haughey strongly against all allegations of corruption and wrong-doing, and tells stories of his humanity – and also of monstrous behaviour and gross political misjudgements. It’s clear that Haughey was his favourite Taoiseach. Alas, Dunlop’s defence of Haughey’s probity rings a little hollow in the light of his own subsequent criminal conviction for bribing Dublin councillors, not to mention what has since come to light about Haughey. But for me, coming from a perspective where my family were distinctly not Haughey fans, it is healthy to read another view. (Even if it is wrong.)
Dunlop was less close to the centre under Garret Fitzgerald, and spent most of his time in the coalition governments of 1981-2 and 1982-7 assisting the Fine Gael minister John Boland (I must admit I had completely forgotten about him). He then retreated into private sector public affairs and lobbying, though was recruited again by Fianna Fáil for the 1992 election. The book was published in 2004, ten years after the events it describes, and contemporaneous with Dunlop singing like a bird to the Mahon Tribunal.
There is very little about ideology here and a lot about political character, psychology and motivation. In particular there’s very little about Northern Ireland, other than complaining about the difficulties it raised, praising Haughey’s attempts to build a relationship with Thatcher and explaining his own perfunctory contacts with British diplomats, and regretting the (peripheral) impact of the hunger strikes in the first 1982 election. It shows how little the reality on the ground in the North mattered for Dublin (and other southern) politicians.
I am personally sympathetic to the anthropological approach to politics, and I love gossip anyway (who doesn’t?) so I generally enjoyed Dunlop’s account. It is occasionally a little too hand-wavey – he never quite says what he thinks the facts were behind the Arms Trial, except that in his view Lynch was more guilty and Charlie less so than most people think. But some of his observations about the relations between politicians and the media, politicians and the voters, and indeed politicians and reality itself, are spot-on.
Displaying 1 of 1 review