[caption id="attachment_67836" align="aligncenter" width="600" caption="Michael D. is welcomed to his new home by Mary M."]
Ireland's President Elect, Michael Daniel Higgins, simply known as Michael D., shines like a beacon of integrity personified. Battered, bruised and broken, Ireland is impoverished economically, morally and spiritually. Truthfulness, honor and decency are encapsulated in the very countenance of Michael D. Dare we hope that during his presidency, we will re-discover those lost qualities in ourselves and recognize them mirrored in his noble face?
As an erudite scholar, poet, champion of the arts and fluent Irish speaker, Michael D. embodies all that is quintessentially Irish. In the 1970s, when our politicians - and most of the population - were mired in the 19th century, Michael D. was a radical free spirit and thinker, unfettered by the mores of the day.
Unafraid and unapologetic, he forged his visionary, independent, indefatigable way and campaigned tirelessly for the poor and dispossessed both at home and abroad. With his beloved wife Sabina and family, may he enjoy every blessing and good health in the hallowed halls of Áras an Úachtaráin as he represents Ireland in his proud bearing, and almost unparalleled intellect.
Still and all, Sean Gallagher must be bitterly disappointed. The presidential campaign was initially greeted with total apathy. We had more pressing issues to contend with: job losses, several savage salary cuts, mortgage worries with resultant marital/relationship breakdown and houses and apartments literally collapsing about their owners' ears due to the deliberately shoddy workmanship of rogue builders.
But we Irish are a highly political race and were drawn in, despite ourselves. When Gallagher declared himself as a candidate, he shot rapidly off the blocks, taking the lead instantly.
Fresh from Dragons' Den TV show in our celebrity-driven world, he appealed mightily, not least because of his sharp suits. His campaign was marked by his emphasis on his business background as an entrepreneur, and his ability to create jobs.
Cognizant of the fact that Fianna Fáil has now entered our lexicon as a four-letter-word, Gallagher immediately distanced himself from his Fianna Fáil roots. It was onward and upward for Gallagher and he led in every poll until the "Frontline" debate, hosted by RTE's Pat Kenny on October 24.
There, he was ambushed by Martin McGuinness. Unfortunately for Gallagher, in his feeble attempts to explain apparent contradictions he uttered several words which, when spoken nowadays, incite incredulity, derision and fury: envelope, collect, check, recollection. The murky world of coteries - in various Fianna Fáil administrations - immediately snapped at Gallagher's heels and he failed dismally in extricating himself.
The following morning's pre-scheduled interview on Pat Kenny's radio show served little to rectify matters. For the first time, we heard a ruffled, irritated Sean Gallagher. Gone was the cool poise that had so impressed.
Because of day before voting moratorium on both radio and TV election coverage, Gallagher had insufficient time to regain valuable lost ground and give satisfactory answers to the growing clamor.
With his credibility seriously dented, recovery proved impossible. One journalist quipped that his explanation about a particular donation to Fianna Fáil had more holes in it than Swiss cheese.
Martin McGuinness is surely delighted with his performance, securing third place. He said he thoroughly enjoyed the experience. He did not, however, relish the proposition by the angelic, much-admired, Miriam O'Callaghan, on RTE a week prior to election day, that he may have had knowledge of murders in the past.
One journalist described how "his mask slipped..." and "the flash of anger that crossed McGuinness' face."
Gay Mitchell, the Fine Gael candidate, seemed not to have any impact at all during the campaign. Despite his vast political experience, both in Ireland and as a member of the European Parliament, Mitchell simply failed to gel with the public.
Several reasons were proffered: Fine Gael failed to give him the necessary support; he was a too-obvious Dubliner; he was devoid of personality and charisma. His one attempt at humor was shot down in flames. On a TV debate, he joked that he was the only "real gay" in the race.
Independent candidate David Norris, who is gay, instantly took umbrage at this light-hearted remark, lecturing that banter was inappropriate on such a serious issue.
Mitchell, who has served both his constituency at home and his country in Europe excellently, may have been able to lay claim to the best president that Ireland never had title, this until he took the unprecedented step of failing to attend the declaration of Michael D. as president elect.
If he wished to be peevish and petty, he should have done so in similar company. The gentlemanly Michael D. did not deserve that snub.
David Norris proved a highly popular choice when he declared himself as a candidate. Ireland has definitely morphed into a thoroughly modern place. No one could have predicted, in our relatively recent past, that not only would a gay man present himself for president, but that he would be lauded and applauded.
His campaign, however, became derailed when news broke of a 10-year-old interview in which he stated: "I cannot understand how anybody could find children of either sex in the slightest bit attractive sexually. . . but in terms of classic pedophilia, as practiced by the Greeks, for example, where it is an older man introducing a younger man to adult life, there can be something said for it. Now, again, this is not something that appeals to me...Although when I was younger I would have greatly relished the prospect of an older, attractive, mature man taking me under his wing, lovingly introducing me to sexual realities, treating me with affection, teaching me about life...The law in this sphere should take in to account consent rather than age."
Such was the outcry that Norris withdrew from the race - though temporarily as it turned out. Although he bounced back in, he was not the same urbane, jocose, witty David Norris whom many had grown to love.
Damaged and wary, he wore a rictus grin for the duration of the campaign. He had learned a tough, valuable lesson. One does not, as he said himself, conduct "...a hypothetical, intellectual conversation..." over dinner and perhaps wine with a restaurant critic.
On The Frontline program, where Gallagher met his nemesis, however, Norris had recovered his bonhomíe and, happily, was his customary, charming self.
When all the candidates were asked would they resign should a skeleton be uncovered after their election, Norris cheerily and smilingly declared that his closet had been thoroughly cleaned out already. That was the old Norris - bloodied but unbowed, relaxed and smiling, fully recovered from the dreadful strain of a ferocious campaign.
Dana Rosemary Scallon's campaign was marked by high drama. First, Dana obviously realized that waving a copy of the Constitution in voters' faces like young teens waving their underwear at a pop singer was not a good plan.
Then came the drama. During a television interview with the aforementioned Miriam O'Callaghan, Dana made an electrifying, melodramatic statement about "untrue, malicious and vile allegations...Lawyers have already been instructed to forensically investigate a particular communication..."
Having dropped this sensational bombshell, she adamantly refused to discuss it any further, leaving us all, as they say, in suspenders.
Within days, there were suggestions of Murder Most Foul. There was a startling assertion by Dana that Michelin were to examine a tire that blew on her campaign car to assess it for sabotage. Husband Damien Scallon asked whether someone had been trying to kill them? Gárda experts inspected the wheel, but found no reason why the rubber should burst at high speed.
Dana herself subsequently said that detectives found nothing to suggest criminal damage. Repair experts claimed that the damage appeared to be consistent with a run-flat as the car may have traveled more than 100 yards after the blow-out. Histrionics? Yes. Farcical? Certainly. Exciting? Yawn!
Mary Davis finished last. Her fabulous figure, elegant, stylish clothes, and the air-brushed posters counted for nothing. Her posters were enhanced to such an extent that one journalist remarked that Mary must be wondering who is that lovely young girl on those lamp-posts?
Mary was not present either when our new President was declared, apparently unaware of protocol on such occasions. With the glaring exception of Gay Mitchell, all candidates showed the utmost graciousness in defeat.
To paraphrase Edmund Burke: It is, generally, in the season of adversity that men and women discover their real temper, principles, and designs.
Mary Hogan is a freelance writer based in Enniscorthy, County Wexford.
