The Irish economic crisis was as much sociopolitical as it was economic. So it is surprising that we have had so little analysis from outside economics. This book on the role of culture, particularly the way it has reflected the fall, is therefore extremely welcome.
It includes an analysis of religion as a market, a perspective on women’s fiction and how it has reflected the crisis, the way Paul Howard’s beautiful monster Ross O’Carroll-Kelly has evolved over the Tiger and its crash, a discussion of popular music, with Jedward as the empty anti-heroes, the (limited) role of poetry in addressing the crisis, and a wonderful discussion of the monsters of post-Celtic Tiger Ireland. The book is full of wonderful insights.
The chapter on monsters, by Kieran Keohane and Carmen Kuhling, reminds us that Dracula is an Irish term – droch fholla, or bad blood – and that plenty of bad blood was generated in the crash. The Renfield-as-gombeen-man identification should have resonance. Just as Dracula is essentially undying unless killed in a particular way, Renfield gombeens seem to be a persistent feature of the Irish economy.
Gerry Smyth’s chapter on popular music takes a swipe at Jedward, seeing them as essentially hollow. One gets the impression that Smyth despairs of popular music as a reflection of anything other than a cynical marketing exercise.
Vic Merriman's powerful chapter on theatre reminds us that quite a number of performances punctured the smug bubble of the Tiger and cast an unflattering light on its aftermath. It is startling to read of Site: Builder's Tale, performed in 1999 in Galway, which seems damningly prescient. Hinterland, in 2002, reminded us of the rotten heart of the Irish body politic. The chapter necessarily confines itself to an analysis of some of the theatrical presentations, but one that should in my view have been examined is Guaranteed, by Colin Murphy. The previous plays looked at the run-up to the Tiger; Guaranteed examined the apocalyptic night of the bank guarantee. Its strength lies in the fact that, like Outsiders, David McWilliams's solo production, it relied more on factual than dramatised elements.
The nature of the crisis is such that no perspective can truly give it justice. There are three areas that could give a perspective lacking in the book. The first is crime fiction. Ireland is lucky in having world-class writers of crime fiction. In a sociocultural critique of the Celtic Tiger, the lack of an analysis of crime fiction is surprising. If Colin Bateman can write about the still-raw wounds of Northern Ireland with a rapier wit, one wonders why a similar genre of post-Celtic Tiger crime has not emerged. The post-Tiger Cork of Graham Masterson, with its distinct heroine struggling with the impact of the crash on both her colleagues and her work, is easily recognisable. The dark underbelly of Dublin reflected in the works of Gene Kerrigan, and the methodical procedurals of Tana French, provide a window into our fall.
A further gap, perhaps reflecting the make-up of the authors’ intended audience, is popular music. The thriving Irish hip-hop and rap scene gets scant attention. The themes of acts such as those represented by Bloodshed Records reflect a raw reality and an anger that acts such as U2 have long since left behind.
The final element that I think is missing from this book is the changing role of the media. The words “blog” or “Twitter” do not appear at all. Throughout the crisis mainstream Irish media has been, to put it mildly, compliant. The old adage of newspapers being there to afflict the comfortable and comfort the afflicted has, with few exceptions, been jettisoned. Much of the critique of how the Government, permanent and elected, has responded to the crisis has instead come from new media.
The growth of Irish new media analysing the crisis is surely a sociocultural phenomenon, yet it is not reflected here. This is a pity: the emerging media landscape, blending new and old, will shape the sociocultural landscape of the next decade.
End of the economist as commentator
The lack of a new-media perspective also reflects the change in the past three years in how economists are treated. We saw in the run-up to the crash, and in the immediate aftermath, the emergence of the economist as commentator on a scale never before seen – and, with luck, never to be seen again.
There is a great deal to be said for the argument that (macro) economics exists in order to make astrology look good. This is especially the case if we consider economics to be primarily about forecasting the components of GDP. In the run-up to the Tiger, for the most part, the profession, myself included, took our eye off the ball. Some were unsure about the kind of ball they were playing with; others were playing an entirely different game.
There are fantastically talented economic analysts in Irish financial services. But when somebody from a stockbroking house turns up on the radio, he’s likely to have an agenda. Too often that agenda goes unacknowledged. Unfortunately, academics can also have an agenda. For some that agenda might be to look good for possible future government preference; for others it might be to unconsciously herd towards the line of the majority, so as not to be seen to be wrong. Ideological perspectives may motivate others. In other words, economics is far too important to be left to economists alone.
The phenomenon of economists as the only accepted commentators on the crisis is one that deserves analysis. If we are to afford economists a sociocultural role as the high priests of distress, we need to understand better what they do. Economics is more than just macro. A sociocultural analysis of why we have not heard from more varieties of economists, who undoubtedly have valuable and insightful points to make on the nature of the crash and of the economy, would be a valuable exercise. By ceding the ground to macroeconomic analysis, microeconomists, specialists in public-choice theory and experts in a range of areas affected by the crash have rendered themselves mute. Mainstream media feeds now on new media. It is easy to set up a blog, easy to set up a Twitter or Facebook feed. The experience of many with something to say, grounded in analytical rigour, is that if you blog it the media will come.
This book is invaluable, if only for the fact that it is the first serious attempt to cast a sociocultural net across what has happened. It is not always easy or comfortable reading, but it is rewarding. As we move towards the upswing, with the inevitable consequence that that also shall end, we need to reflect on what happened and on how we responded to it. This book helps us to do that.
Brian Lucey is professor of finance at Trinity College Dublin.
