The blame game

national | miscellaneous | opinion/analysis Thursday February 05, 2009 14:33 by Paul O' Sullivan

A look at who's really to blame from a self-confessed Celtic Tiger cub

Pointing fingers is easy. There’s no fare for the bandwagon of blaming Government. If this financial calamity were the death of a loved one – let’s face it everyone loves three holidays a year – we’re still at the graveyard. We haven’t yet sat alone in the rooms they used to occupy, to think, reflect and come to terms with their passing. That’s when we will realise our own shortcomings, the part we the people played.

At a time when many young Irish were getting high on the thrill of being citizens of a thriving, affluent, modern economy (or coke), Charlie McCreevy was quoted as saying: ‘If I have it, I’ll spend it.’ I know, sounds more like a football manager when the transfer window’s open that Finance Minister for one of the world’s top five fastest growing economies.

But the scant attention paid to this remark at the time is evident from an internet reference check. What the coffers keeper said back then didn’t matter, preoccupied as we were with holiday planning, ready-made meals and the gym on a Monday and Wednesday evenings. Rising prices were tolerable, regardless how far they soared. Many gasped but few refused to pay. Stigma and snobbery rampaged. Largely, desirables the assurance we could purchase whatever we desired at whatever the cost.

And we were partying. We took the Finance Minister literally, and why not? If the company MD gives Friday afternoon off you don’t insist on staying.

But we didn’t party like our fore-fathers, or even the older siblings forced by necessity to take the boat (it takes a hardened night-prowler to forget 30% unemployment levels and yellow-label toilet roll). Craic evolved. Consumption, cynicism and a preoccupation with sex replaced the genes governing humorous, self-deprecating character. We had wads of cash for porter and chasers. And new treats to fuel our buzz - taurine instead of glucose, pills and speed instead of weed on the odd occasion, when it was available. The pace accelerated. Diddling fiddles, big characters and Irishness on the whole became a little twee. Even monogamous relationships seemed a stale concept.

To sustain ourselves on this path to new cultural pastures we found ourselves working harder, paying more attention to words like global economy, productivity and career progression. Masters replaced degrees as the third-level norm. Securing a good job just wasn’t enough anymore. There were promotions to strive toward, experience to compile, the year-out to complete, the status car and address to secure. Life was serious, too hectic to pay attention to what McCreevy and co. were saying.

But this is not a death. Mourning is a waste of time as is incessantly analysing the current climate.

And people will survive. There is, or perhaps was before paranoid preoccupation, more to life than money. If bank chiefs and politicians can’t figure that out then let them have it. There is little point in waiting for their ilk to sprinkle fairy dust on the stock markets. They’re not magicians. Most aren’t even the bona fide managers, planners, communicators and diplomats they need to be.

Where Mr. McCreevy shot from the hip with financial policy summaries Mr. Cowen does likewise in terms of management philosophy: ‘I’ll run the country as I see fit’. Perhaps this time we might sit up in alarm when cowboys talk so boorishly.