There’s something horrendously awful about budget day in Ireland. I think it’s the suits.
For our politicians, budget day is sort of an amalgamation of first holy communion and the local GAA club dinner dance. New suits are the order of the day, getting the hair and nails done specially a must for female TDs in particular but some of the men as well. There’s a fair chance, you see, that they’ll be on telly, a few rows behind the Minister for Finance, nodding vigorously as he announces whatever goodies are coming your way, and nodding solemnly as the price of a pint goes up – an important measure to combat alcohol abuse that will no doubt be toasted at length in the subsidised in-house bar provided for our legislators later than evening.
There is an emptiness to it all, precisely because, I think, this is supposed to be the most important political day in the calendar, and yet there is very little politics involved at all.
That is a function of both how our politics is designed, and how our voters seem to wish it to be structured. Our TDs, after all, are less national legislators than they are local champions – dispatched to Dublin not to implement national economic reforms or long-term strategies, but to bring the bacon home with them back down the country. There’s a reason why the Government spent most of last week announcing almost 2,000 individual grants to sports clubs and other local community programmes. They know what you want from your local TD, and it isn’t strong views on whether the Government should abide by the spending limits recommended by its own independent fiscal advisory council. Those are matters for eggheads – your TD is there to get a new roof for the GAA club.
Those aforementioned fiscal advisory council limits will be blown apart today, as has been well-briefed before the budget, but it will be a shock if as much as a single TD – Government or opposition – raises a concern about this. The long-term economic health of the country is definitively not foremost in the minds of our legislators, this morning, as they assemble for the great disbursement of goodies – their minds are instead universally fixed on the general election to come.
The disbursement of goodies is what it all comes down to, really: In tough times, when belts are to be tightened and hard decisions made, the opposition of whatever stripe will argue that more money should be spent. In good times when the cash is being splashed around like cocaine at a pre-Oscars bash, the opposition will argue that more money should be spent. This is the highest purpose and sole objective of the Irish politician: Securing more money for his or her constituents.
Money is often the sole measurement used in Irish politics, to the exclusion of all others: A government that talks about its health policy will always mention first the “investments” made. A Government that talks about its compassionate policy to the poor will cite – almost exclusively – the “financial supports” it has offered. A Government that talks about EU membership will default immediately to a “how much we got” argument.
The reason that this depresses me so much – perhaps I am alone – is that the highest value of Irish politics is also the easiest thing for any politician to do. Any fool can spend money, and any fool can tighten a belt in tough times. This is one reason why we so often elect any old fool – their most important job is also objectively easy.
The harder things – the things that require some skill and managerial ability – are most often where we fall down. This Government, for example, has invested untold billions in healthcare but still lacks a children’s hospital, or a plan to address scoliosis surgeries for children, or the trolly crisis that hits every January like clockwork but for which Government is nevertheless always unprepared.
I wrote last week that the Oireachtas Bike Shed was one of the most important stories in recent memory – it is so precisely because it should be judged in light of today’s budget. That story was essentially a tale of financial fecklessness and mismanagement – of throwing money at a minor problem in the hope that the system would provide a solution. And a solution was provided – at excessive cost and with hardly any oversight. That was €336,000. Today, you get to watch the Government adopt the same approach – to thunderous applause – with tens of billions.
No doubt, by the time the sun sets tonight, my household, like most of yours, will be better off than it was this morning. I am told, for example, that my wife and I can expect to keep nearly €2,000 more of our own money next year than we were permitted to keep this year. A household where two people do not work and claim social welfare will be better off to the tune of about half that – just over €1,000 on social welfare payments alone. The Government will simultaneously take less from us, and give more to them.
You do not need to be a genius, looking at that basic fact, to realise that this is not an approach that a Government – any government – can keep up indefinitely. Modern politics is ultimately about the reallocation of resources from some groups to other groups. When a Government is giving more to everybody, and smashing its own fiscal advice in the process, it is not governing. It is electioneering. Your vote is being bought, and openly so.
Perhaps this is the most we can expect, or can ever hope for – in which case the electorate can hardly be blamed for choosing their own Fianna Fáil or Fine Gael bacon-grabber to get the job done for them for the next five years. But let the record show that yours truly, for one, finds the whole business cynical, embarrassing, and more than a little depressing.
Oh, by the way – fill your car with diesel today. If the Greens get their way, it will cost you more tomorrow.