Dublin: The New Year dawned bright as a button in Ireland with the accession to office of the first woman president of the Irish Republic, Mary Robinson.
Even the British, not known for their admiration of Irish politicians, were suitably impressed with Robinson, making her “Woman of the Year” in one newspaper poll.
In Ireland, the press office at Aras an Uachtaran, the official residence, was swamped by media requests, over 1,500 in all, from every corner of the globe, anxious to interview the Irish president.
On radio, television and in newspapers, every utterance and action of the new president was closely scrutinized. When she sacked the domestic staff of Aras an Uachtaran, to make way for her own people, it was front page news, vying with the Gulf Crisis.
In the midst of it all, the new president herself was trying to quietly case her way into what is largely a ceremonial office, as titular head of state of the Irish Republic. But her victory against all the odds, in an election that bad more twists and turns than a fairground Big Dipper, had set the country alight and politically aflame in a way not seen since the foundation of the state.
Suddenly the old maxims that the Irish electorate were too conservative to vote a woman, and a liberal to boot into high office were shattered.
Robinson herself has come to embody truth for a new generation of young Irish ill at ease with the catch cries of the past, as Ireland becomes a fully integrated part of Europe.
Robinson embodies many of the new realities. Born in County Mayo, where her father was a local doctor in the town of Ballina, she was a brilliant law graduate, and at age 25, became a lecturer in Trinity College Dublin. At 29, she was elected to the Irish Senate, where she commenced a career singular in its devotion to the underprivileged in Irish society.
There was hardly a cause of the dispossessed that Robinson did not espouse. She was responsible for legislation bettering the lot of the travelers, or tinkers as they are most commonly known, who have long journeyed the roads of Ireland, romanticized by many, but not by Robinson, who saw in their plight a reminder of society’s obligation to the displaced.
Robinson also strove for change on issues such as deserted wives, battered women, and many other groups marginalized in Irish society.
She herself became marginalized for a time, because of her radical stance. She was unable to get elected to the Irish parliament, and seemed, as the liberal agenda failed on issues such as divorce, to have retreated into the middle distance as a force in Irish political life.
However, she had never lost her place in the hearts and minds of a younger generation in a country, where there is enormous respect for a scrappy underdog. Thus, when she was a surprise choice as a candidate for president for the Labor Party, Ireland’s third largest political group, she tapped a wave of affection, particularly among women, unheard of in Irish politics.
Now through one of those wonderful Irish ironies, she has become the titular head of the nation, whose restrictive laws on many matters are the tightest in Europe. As such her new power likely embodies the worst nightmares of the conservative forces who make up such a large part of the Irish body politic and frame its laws.
For the young Irish however, she is a breath of fresh air, someone who will surely sweep away the cobwebs from Aras an Uachtaran and the Irish presidency. With her election, the latter institution, which has long been seen as an old man’s club and a benefit for retiring politicians has received a massive boost.
Editor’s Note: This article was originally published in the February 1991 issue of Irish America. ♦
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