Written for the Hot Press 2007 Annual

What stands out for me, in 2007, is the entry of the Greens into Government. Ever since I saw the late lamented German Green pioneer Petra Kelly speak in Dublin when I was fourteen or fifteen, thirty years ago, I’ve thunk in a green way. I was one of the protesters that took part in the sit-in on Wood Quay in 1977/78, protesting against the destruction of Viking Dublin by its own council. I’ve always been very much opposed to nuclear power (I went to Carnsore Point to protest at the planned nuclear station there, in 1978), and interested in the concepts of subsidiarity and the economic principle of “small is beautiful”. I see renewable energy as a means of gaining economic and political freedom from oil cartels and the US/Saudi axis, and am dismayed at the way the rain forests are disappearing, not to mention how whales are still being killed. I’m interested in good town planning and detest the Irish bungalow blight. Though not vegetarian, I buy organic when I can, and free-range if it’s not too expensive.

I’m not a fanatic, I do the best I can, like most people. Recycling is a pain. Global warming never got me excited as a topic, oddly enough, probably because I think the Earth will recover, even in a doomsday scenario, long after humans have extinguished themselves. I’m a guilty green when I take advantage of penny flights and hop over to foreign climes, and ignore my whopping carbon footprint. I am not convinced that biofuels are the best answer to global warming, because huge swathes of natural wilderness are now being razed to make way for industrial scale plantations churning out vegetable mass for oil, and in a lot of ways this does more harm than good. There are no easy answers, but at least people are beginning to think intelligently and creatively about the problems, and taking them seriously. I believe that the way forward involves allowing capitalism to flourish but in a strong yet imaginative regulatory framework; providing incentives for small and/or co-operative businesses to work, and tax breaks for actions that preserve and conserve and husband our planet’s resources. I believe that a competitive free market is ultimately a good thing, but only if it’s kept within firm and fair boundaries; it is as dangerous as fire, and needs to be contained in order for it to be safe. Progress for its own sake is not a virtue, there are always other social values to be taken into consideration.

I suppose I’m a believer in the gradual evolution of the human race, and I do believe that things do get better, albeit at a painfully slow pace, sometimes 3 steps forward, 2 steps back. If governments had listened to the likes of Petra Kelly 30 years ago our world would be a lot safer, cleaner, and economically less volatile place.

Anyway. Hypothetical “what if’s” don’t serve any useful purpose. Being right is not enough, it never has been, as history shows. Politics is the art of the possible, and turning ideals into reality is a slow, arduous process, full of compromise, uncomfortable partnerships, sacrifices, and choosing the lesser of two or more evils. Any transition from abstract Utopian notions to practical grounded working systems involves a good deal of supping with the devil, if by Devil we mean the Satan/saturnine principle of getting our hands dirty, spending filthy lucre, and getting involved in the realpolitik of deal-making and appeasement of the many powerful vested interests there are in society. There is often little respect for this process, because it is, often, far simpler and easier to hold lofty high ideals, to maintain the moral high ground, than it is to compromise.

On the day the Greens signed up to join Fianna Fáil in government, I sent off for an application form to join them. I was impressed with the calm, sober, methodical way they did their deal, how they stood their ground, and held their nerve until Fianna Fáil came back to them. I was impressed when Trevor Sargent kept to his word and stood down as leader. And I saw what a good deal they had made when the dream Green ministerial portfolios were handed out. And I had to smile at the canniness of Bertie in doing this – the master of the dark arts of political persuasion, he was indeed offering them the holy grail of ministerial responsibility in the areas most beloved to greens, which, because of the nature of power, so easily turn into poisoned chalices.

But, as much as I would have liked to have been in on the debate on entering government, I didn’t send off the application form. Until the vote on Labour’s bill on gay marriage, which was kicked to touch by the government, and the Greens appear to have let the principle of equality go by the wayside in the deal they have made with Fianna Fail. Then, I realised that I could either bitch about the Greens from the outside, as others have taken great pleasure in doing, or get in and get vociferous from the inside.

So, off went the application form, and received my probationary membership card. In six months’ time, I can vote. I have no intention of being a mole, and writing here in a clandestine fashion about how the greens are on the inside. Anything I write tends to be with people’s consent. Suffice it to say that, just as I expected, at my first constituency meeting, there were no big surprises. A committee meeting is always a committee meeting, and I often lose the will to live in committee meetings.

However, I did come to a realisation about the political process, simply through attending it. The devil is the detail – the painstaking process of writing law, framing constitutions, tabling amendments, correcting sub-clauses. We were talking about local constituency group constitutions at one stage, clause after tedious clause, and then we had a senator come talk to us about the biggest constitution of them all, the most unwieldy and dense, the proposed European constitutional treaty, which Ireland will be voting on next year. Mastering technical detail is not my forté. But I realised if I want to try to change anything at all in the next few years, I’ll have to resist my natural urge to flee from technocrats as alien human beings. The details matter, how they are written matters. And when it comes to the next battle over principle, I’ll at least hope to have some details at my fingertips to support my argument. Passion alone is not enough.