30 September 2014
The current
debate over the future leadership of the Labour Party has given rise to much
commentary about the ideal political leader.
For me, an
outstanding political leader by any standard, whom I have always admired, was
the great Irish nationalist Eamon de Valera. From the time of the Easter
Uprising in 1916 until shortly before his death in 1975, de Valera was at the
centre of Irish politics, either as Prime Minister, Leader of the Opposition,
or President of the Republic.
That physical longevity
was remarkable enough, but de Valera’s political survival skills mark him out
as one of the great leaders of the 20th century. Yet he was a grim,
dour figure, possessing no charisma, and virtually blind for the last 20 years
of his life.
What made de
Valera was that he never lost his dream of what his country could be. Quaint
and out-moded as it proved to be by the time he finally stood down as President
in 1973, de Valera’s dream shaped and dominated Ireland’s destiny, probably
through until the rise of the Celtic Tiger in the 1990s. He was extremely wily –
his biographer Lord Longford paints vivid pictures of how he outwitted the
English over the Abdication Crisis in 1936, and the Germans during the War over
their wish to upgrade the status of their Legation in neutral Dublin to that of
a full Embassy. To their surprise, de Valera not only was supportive but agreed
that the Embassy should be opened by the German Head of State, provided, of course,
he respected Ireland’s neutrality by travelling to Dublin for the occasion, by non-military
means, which was of course completely impossible in the circumstances of the
time, unless one was to travel via England. At that point, the proposal was
quietly shelved.
I am not seeking
to make allusions between de Valera’s extraordinary and arguably unique career
and the current plight of the Labour Party, save for one point. De Valera knew
instinctively what the narrative was that he wanted to present to the Irish people,
and he stuck with it for over half a century in public life. There were times
when it was unpopular; times when it was seen as slightly old-fashioned and
romanticised; and, other times, especially towards the end of his career, when
it was simply out of touch.
Yet he stuck to his line, and backed down for no-one, most notably in his rebuke to President Kennedy, after the latter’s powerful speech to the Dail during his successful 1963 visit, or when he spoke on the occasion of the 50th Anniversary of the Easter Uprising in 1966. Constancy was his byword.
Yet he stuck to his line, and backed down for no-one, most notably in his rebuke to President Kennedy, after the latter’s powerful speech to the Dail during his successful 1963 visit, or when he spoke on the occasion of the 50th Anniversary of the Easter Uprising in 1966. Constancy was his byword.
To me, that
highlights a critical quality of leadership – conviction and strong self-belief
in the cause one is promoting. I do not mean conviction displayed superficially
in the neo-Pentecostal sense we often confuse as charisma, but conviction in
the sense of quiet, determined inner passion that drives one forward and which
over time inspires its own sense of confidence. Grim determination in pursuit
of a goal should always outshine flashiness or overt showmanship, in my view.
Interestingly, it
was that same sense of grim determination that marked out one of our greatest
Prime Ministers – Peter Fraser – and Helen Clark, in more recent times. So,
maybe as Labour begins its now near-annual search for a new leader, it should
take a leaf out of the Fraser and Clark books, and opt for the choice that has
the determination, constancy, grit and stamina to settle in and knuckle down
for the long haul.
The problem is
finding such a person in the current Labour Caucus.