How the Celtic Tiger was tamed

As Ireland heads to the polls, it expects not change but more of the same.

If all the talk of treason in Dublin were in earnest, there would be nooses dang­ling from the Georgian lamp posts around the Dail instead of general election posters. There are no lynch mobs along the banks of the Liffey and the worst financial crisis in southern Ireland since the founding of the Free State doesn't seem to be bringing about the kind of large-scale realignment that the Irish left has been longing for.

Forget "Guns'n'Roses", as a Sinn Fein-Labour coalition was nicknamed when a single rogue opinion poll suggested such a mould-breaking possibility. For all his gung-ho rhetoric about triumphing over the two big tribal parties, the Labour leader, Eamon Gilmore, now has a struggle on his hands to play any role in the next government. Instead of making history, the most he can hope for is to become a Hibernian version of the Liberal Democrat leader-turned-Deputy Prime Minister Nick Clegg - and he might be denied even that dubious achievement if a resurgent Fine Gael can muster a majority with the aid of independents.

Although Gilmore has accused the outgoing Taoiseach, Brian Cowen, of "economic treason", the Labour leader is unlikely to pursue retribution if he becomes Tanaiste (deputy Taio­seach). A politically connected golden circle of investors seems always to be protected, even in times of socio-economic carnage. Most people in Ireland can't imagine this ever changing. Meanwhile, mass emigration is acting as a safety valve for social unrest. A new exodus from the country is one of the very few reasons that the number on the dole has yet to reach half a million.

Following the €85bn EU/IMF bailout, many have become exercised about the issue of economic sovereignty. The most that Fine Gael's leader, Enda Kenny, promises is that, if he becomes Taoiseach on 25 February, he will try to negotiate a less onerous interest rate with the European Central Bank (ECB). But its president, Jean-Claude Trichet, has already publicly slapped him down for this. Alan Dukes, a former Fine Gael leader who is now chairman of Anglo Irish Bank, has added to Kenny's woes by indicating that the country's banking system will need a further €15bn on top of the €35bn already earmarked.

If the Irish Labour Party becomes the junior partner in a Fine Gael-led coalition that spends even more public money while implementing savage cuts in front-line services and social welfare payments at the behest of the ECB and the IMF, it will not be able to avoid becoming as loathed as Britain's Lib Dems. And if they fall into the same trap, Dublin's social democrats could end up following the Green Party, which fears electoral annihilation as punishment for propping up the outgoing Fianna Fail-led government. Even ardent ecologists find it hard to lament that prospect. Despite securing two of the ministerial portfolios that they most coveted - energy and environment - the Greens failed to tackle a national betrayal that straddles both these crucial spheres.

The great giveaway

The Corrib gas controversy concerns plans by Shell, Vermilion Energy and Statoil to exploit the hydrocarbon reserves off the Irish coast, whose total value is estimated by the government to be €420bn. It involves not just a rejection of local public safety concerns but also a sell-off of the nation's natural resources.

When Eamon Ryan first entered the Dail, the charismatic young politician, once hailed as the great Green hope, campaigned for the Rossport Five, a determined group of local demonstrators who were prepared to go to prison to halt the construction of a gas pipeline through their village in County Mayo. When Ryan became Ireland's energy minister, however, he seemed to forget this pledge of solidarity and failed to use his influence to prevent planning permission from being granted for an onshore, rather than offshore, refinery.

Furthermore, over the coming decades, as the Corrib gas starts to thunder through the pipe, the almost insolvent Irish state will not receive a single cent in royalties. And when the likes of Shell do eventually declare any profits, they will be taxed at just 25 per cent, compared to the international average of 68 per cent imposed by energy-producing countries.

In 1987, Ireland's then minister for energy, Ray Burke, granted multinational corporations terms and conditions that few other countries would have stood for - including the abolition of royalties - purportedly to encourage gas exploration. Dick Spring, who was then Lab-our leader, is said to have denounced Burke's deal as "an act of economic treason". Burke was later jailed for offences relating to tax evasion. Little attempt has been made by any subsequent government to rescind his great gas and oil giveaway.

To cap it all, it emerged recently that a British undercover agent had been given free rein by the Irish police to infiltrate the Corrib protest groups. Mark Kennedy of the Metropolitan Police posed as an eco-warrior called Mark Stone while on the payroll of the UK National Public Order Intelligence Unit; he has claimed that he was commissioned in Dublin to do so. It seems that, when it comes to safeguarding the interests of international capital, Ireland's national sovereignty can be breached not just by the IMF but also by the British police and equally unaccountable elements within the Irish state.

Rob Brown is senior lecturer in journalism at Independent College Dublin

This article first appeared in the 21 February 2011 issue of the New Statesman, The offshore City

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The French millennials marching behind Marine Le Pen

A Front National rally attracts former socialists with manicured beards, and a lesbian couple. 

“In 85 days, Marine will be President of the French Republic!” The 150-strong crowd cheered at the sound of the words. On stage, the speaker, the vice-president of the far-right Front National (FN), Florian Philippot, continued: “We will be told that it’s the apocalypse, by the same banks, media, politicians, who were telling the British that Brexit would be an immediate catastrophe.

"Well, they voted, and it’s not! The British are much better off than we are!” The applause grew louder and louder. 

I was in the medieval city of Metz, in a municipal hall near the banks of the Moselle River, a tributary of the Rhine from which the region takes its name. The German border lies 49km east; Luxembourg City is less than an hour’s drive away. This is the "Country of the Three Borders", equidistant from Strasbourg and Frankfurt, and French, German and French again after various wars. Yet for all that local history is deeply rooted in the wider European history, votes for the Front National rank among the highest nationally, and continue to rise at every poll. 

In rural Moselle, “Marine”, as the Front National leader Marine Le Pen is known, has an envoy. In 2014, the well-spoken, elite-educated Philippot, 35, ran for mayor in Forbach, a former miner’s town near the border. He lost to the Socialist candidate but has visited regularly since. Enough for the locals to call him “Florian".

I grew up in a small town, Saint-Avold, halfway between Metz and Forbach. When my grandfather was working in the then-prosperous coal mines, the Moselle region attracted many foreign workers. Many of my fellow schoolmates bore Italian and Polish surnames. But the last mine closed in 2004, and now, some of the immigrants’ grandchildren are voting for the National Front.

Returning, I can't help but wonder: How did my generation, born with the Maastricht treaty, end up turning to the Eurosceptic, hard right FN?

“We’ve seen what the other political parties do – it’s always the same. We must try something else," said Candice Bertrand, 23, She might not be part of the group asking Philippot for selfies, but she had voted FN at every election, and her family agreed. “My mum was a Communist, then voted for [Nicolas] Sarkozy, and now she votes FN. She’s come a long way.”  The way, it seemed, was political distrust.

Minutes earlier, Philippot had pleaded with the audience to talk to their relatives and neighbours. Bertrand had brought her girlfriend, Lola, whom she was trying to convince to vote FN.  Lola wouldn’t give her surname – her strongly left-wing family would “certainly not” like to know she was there. She herself had never voted.

This infuriated Bertrand. “Women have fought for the right to vote!” she declared. Daily chats with Bertrand and her family had warmed up Lola to voting Le Pen in the first round, although not yet in the second. “I’m scared of a major change,” she confided, looking lost. “It’s a bit too extreme.” Both were too young to remember 2002, when a presidential victory for the then-Front National leader Jean-Marie Le Pen, was only a few percentage points away.

Since then, under the leadership of his daughter, Marine, the FN has broken every record. But in this region, the FN’s success isn’t new. In 2002, when liberal France was shocked to see Le Pen reach the second round of the presidential election, the FN was already sailing in Moselle. Le Pen grabbed 23.7 per cent of the Moselle vote in the first round and 21.9 per cent in the second, compared to 16.9 per cent and 17.8 per cent nationally. 

The far-right vote in Moselle remained higher than the national average before skyrocketing in 2012. By then, the younger, softer-looking Marine had taken over the party. In that year, the FN won an astonishing 24.7 per cent of the Moselle vote, and 17.8 per cent nationwide.

For some people of my generation, the FN has already provided opportunities. With his manicured beard and chic suit, Emilien Noé still looks like the Young Socialist he was between 16 and 18 years old. But looks can be deceiving. “I have been disgusted by the internal politics at the Socialist Party, the lack of respect for the low-ranked campaigners," he told me. So instead, he stood as the FN’s youngest national candidate to become mayor in his village, Gosselming, in 2014. “I entered directly into action," he said. (He lost). Now, at just 21, Noé is the FN’s youth coordinator for Eastern France.

Metz, Creative Commons licence credit Morgaine

Next to him stood Kevin Pfeiffer, 27. He told me he used to believe in the Socialist ideal, too - in 2007, as a 17-year-old, he backed Ségolène Royal against Sarkozy. But he is now a FN local councillor and acts as the party's general co-ordinator in the region. Both Noé and Pfeiffer radiated a quiet self-confidence, the sort that such swift rises induces. They shared a deep respect for the young-achiever-in-chief: Philippot. “We’re young and we know we can have perspectives in this party without being a graduate of l’ENA,” said another activist, Olivier Musci, 24. (The elite school Ecole Nationale d’Administration, or ENA, is considered something of a mandatory finishing school for politicians. It counts Francois Hollande and Jacques Chirac among its alumni. Ironically, Philippot is one, too.)

“Florian” likes to say that the FN scores the highest among the young. “Today’s youth have not grown up in a left-right divide”, he told me when I asked why. “The big topics, for them, were Maastricht, 9/11, the Chinese competition, and now Brexit. They have grown up in a political world structured around two poles: globalism versus patriotism.” Notably, half his speech was dedicated to ridiculing the FN's most probably rival, the maverick centrist Emmanuel Macron. “It is a time of the nations. Macron is the opposite of that," Philippot declared. 

At the rally, the blue, red and white flame, the FN’s historic logo, was nowhere to be seen. Even the words “Front National” had deserted the posters, which were instead plastered with “in the name of the people” slogans beneath Marine’s name and large smile. But everyone wears a blue rose at the buttonhole. “It’s the synthesis between the left’s rose and the right’s blue colour”, Pfeiffer said. “The symbol of the impossible becoming possible.” So, neither left nor right? I ask, echoing Macron’s campaign appeal. “Or both left and right”, Pfeiffer answered with a grin.

This nationwide rebranding follows years of efforts to polish the party’s jackass image, forged by decades of xenophobic, racist and anti-Semitic declarations by Le Pen Sr. His daughter evicted him from the party in 2015.

Still, Le Pen’s main pledges revolve around the same issue her father obsessed over - immigration. The resources spent on "dealing with migrants" will, Le Pen promises, be redirected to address the concerns of "the French people". Unemployment, which has been hovering at 10 per cent for years, is very much one of them. Moselle's damaged job market is a booster for the FN - between 10 and 12 per cent of young people are unemployed.

Yet the two phenomena cannot always rationally be linked. The female FN supporters I met candidly admitted they drove from France to Luxembourg every day for work and, like many locals, often went shopping in Germany. Yet they hoped to see the candidate of “Frexit” enter the Elysee palace in May. “We've never had problems to work in Luxembourg. Why would that change?” asked Bertrand. (Le Pen's “144 campaign pledges” promise frontier workers “special measures” to cross the border once out of the Schengen area, which sounds very much like the concept of the Schengen area itself.)

Grégoire Laloux, 21, studied history at the University of Metz. He didn't believe in the European Union. “Countries have their own interests. There are people, but no European people,” he said. “Marine is different because she defends patriotism, sovereignty, French greatness and French history.” He compared Le Pen to Richelieu, the cardinal who made Louis XIV's absolute monarchy possible:  “She, too, wants to build a modern state.”

French populists are quick to link the country's current problems to immigration, and these FN supporters were no exception. “With 7m poor and unemployed, we can't accept all the world's misery,” Olivier Musci, 24, a grandchild of Polish and Italian immigrants, told me. “Those we welcome must serve the country and be proud to be here.”

Lola echoed this call for more assimilation. “At our shopping centre, everyone speaks Arabic now," she said. "People have spat on us, thrown pebbles at us because we're lesbians. But I'm in my country and I have the right to do what I want.” When I asked if the people who attacked them were migrants, she was not so sure. “Let's say, they weren't white.”

Trump promised to “Make America Great Again”. To where would Le Pen's France return? Would it be sovereign again? White again? French again? Ruled by absolutism again? She has blurred enough lines to seduce voters her father never could – the young, the gay, the left-wingers. At the end of his speech, under the rebranded banners, Philippot invited the audience to sing La Marseillaise with him. And in one voice they did: “To arms citizens! Form your battalions! March, march, let impure blood, water our furrows...” The song is the same as the one I knew growing up. But it seemed to me, this time, a more sinister tune.