ONE OF the items on display in the National Library this evening is an interview with Michael D from Hot Pressin 2004, under the subheading "The most passionate man in Irish politics".
It’s a description of Michael D that is apt; a fitting tribute, a reflection of why he is a politician who stands out and the extent to which, as the 140 boxes of his archival material illustrate, he has roamed so far and so wide in his political career to date.
His passion has known few boundaries and it has not confined itself to Ireland; indeed, one of the most striking aspects of his archival collection is the international dimension and the sheer range of causes abroad, whether that is in the US, Iraq, Turkey, Palestine, Portugal, Tanzania, Tibet, Uganda, Somalia, Lebanon, Iran, South America or Burma.
Another item on display is the copy of an article he wrote in the early 1980s – a historical look at “shopkeeper-graziers and land agitation in Ireland from 1895 onwards”. It highlights his historical and sociological perspectives and his ability to bring that gaze right down to the local level to get to the essence of power, which he had first demonstrated in the 1970s with fellow sociologist Peter Gibbons, with whom he co-authored a study of clientelism and the phenomenon of the Irish “gombeen” man.
You will also see on display tonight a copy of his book published in 2007, Causes for Concern. If that book was to be given a subtitle it might well be "the distribution of power", as power and the abuse of power and the centralisation of power are the threads running through the fabric of Michael D's interests.
Whether looking at gombeen men in the west of Ireland in the 19th century or human rights abuses in Africa and the Middle East in the 21st century, his exposure of the abuses of power; of the need to confront those abuses, analyse them and vocalise them, has been central to the contribution he has made.
The issue of power is also one that he directly addressed on his final day in the Dáil in January. He said that in 1969, when he first stood for election, he was conscious of the great failure of a country that called itself a republic, and 42 years later in 2011 as he retired from party politics, he said, “I believe no real republic has been created in Ireland”.
There has been, he maintained, a failure to make political power republican because there has not been enough distribution of power. From the foundation of this State, he asserted, the hegemonic power of the Department of Finance that was inherited from Britain was not challenged, and the monopoly enjoyed by government and parliament was not overcome.
It took courage for Michael D to leave academic life and throw himself at the mercy of the West Galway electorate four decades ago. It was respect for his courage that kept him in the Dáil over many elections; people admired his willingness to speak his mind and to confront the abusers of power.
As is often the case with passionate people, Michael D frequently got himself into trouble in challenging consensus, but what is also striking about his political career is how focused he was as a minister in the 1990s. The constructive passion he brought to the job of minister for arts, culture and the Gaeltacht meant that he was able to make a lasting impact and leave a significant legacy.
His career has clearly not just been about the politics of protest. It has been about creativity and imagination, poetry and conviviality, reflections on the human condition and sensitivity in understanding its various dimensions. All of these perspectives are reflected in his archive and the fact he has donated it to the National Library points to another one of his important traits – he is a generous patriot and what we are marking tonight is an act of generous patriotism.
For those working as historians in the future, these archival boxes will give a valuable overview of the various causes that he has prioritised; they will find much information on children’s rights, arts and heritage, the migratory experience, the Labour Party, the economy, health policy, disability, rural Ireland, the EU, prisons, Travellers, television and film, and the importance of an education that he has always insisted ought to be democratic, independent and not subservient to economics. As befits a sociologist, here we have a broad spectrum of Irish and international societies, including many who have been marginalised.
What is also clear from his writings and from this archive is his belief that it is simply unacceptable that society, the economy and politics should be seen as separate spheres. That, in his view, is not what citizenship is about and historians will find much to ponder in this archive when they see how prophetic he has been, particularly when they go searching for the reasons why we have ended up in the state we’re in.
He is also acutely aware of how power sharpens the mind; how you have to be pragmatic and indulge in hard-nosed bargaining to make your mark and how you can mix gravitas with mischievousness. It’s also important that here, in one of our most important cultural institutions, we acknowledge what he did for cultural institutions when he was minister, including the National Museum and the Chester Beatty Library. He acknowledged the need for cultural space to allow cultural diversity to express itself.
The archive also reveals someone who has always written powerfully and communicated his message effectively to many audiences, including young people – my first introduction to the thoughts of Michael D was as a teenager reading Hot Pressmagazine.
I was intrigued to see in the lists of contents of the archival boxes that in the middle of all this material is a lawnmower manual, stuck between files on the Galway anti-war group and the Lisbon Treaty. I suspect sometimes even for Michael D, the only solution to over-ingesting policy documents and files is to go out and cut the bloody grass!
Given the various aspects of Michael D’s contribution that I have mentioned, it is no wonder he enjoys widespread respect. He was referred to by one interviewer, Justine McCarthy, a few years ago as “the proclamatory, peat-perfumed contralto who is as pink-faced and unstoppable as the Duracell bunny”, a reflection of his ability to even inspire journalists to poetic heights.
But, in all seriousness, he is the quintessential intellectual in Irish politics and this has not been easy. In reference to his book, Causes for Concern, he suggested that with its publication "there was an element of walking naked in it . . . I am revealing certain aspects of my own psyche, in a way".
This is what his archive will also do; for that we must be grateful, and for that I, as a historian asked to accept this archive on behalf of the National Library, salute him and thank him sincerely for allowing his history to become a part of the Irish people’s treasured collections here.
Diarmaid Ferriter is professor of modern Irish history at UCD