Saving the State

Fine Gael from Collins to Varadkar

Stephen Collins, Ciara Meehan

• Publisher: Gill Books
• Year: 2020
• ISBN:
  9780717189748
• Topic: Política y relaciones internacionales
• Subtopic: Partidos políticos

When Fine Gael entered a coalition government with Fianna Fáil in 2020 the party did what would have been unthinkable for its forefathers, who had fought and won a bitter civil war to establish the institutions of an independent Irish state almost a century earlier. Saving the State is the remarkable story of Fine Gael from its origins in the fraught days of civil war to the political convulsions of 2020.

Written by political journalist Stephen Collins and historian Ciara Meehan, Saving the State draws on a wealth of original historical research and a range of interviews with key political figures to chart the evolution of the party through the lens of its successive leaders.

From the special place occupied by Michael Collins in the party's pantheon of heroes to the dark era of the Blueshirts, and from its role as the founder of the state to its claim to be the defender of the state, the ways that members perceive their own history is also explored.

Saving the State is essential reading for anyone interested in understanding how Fine Gael came to be the party it is today, the ways in which it interprets and presents its own history, and the role that it played in shaping modern Ireland.

1

THE W.T. COSGRAVE YEARS

‘It would be hard to imagine anybody who is less true to what we used to consider the Sinn Féin type than Mr. Cosgrave. It is not only that he does not dress in the regulation way – trench coat, leggings and slouch hat and the rest of it; but he has a thoroughly Conservative face.’

– IRISH TIMES, 9 SEPTEMBER 1922.

At Dublin Castle on 16 January 1922, the British handed over control of an independent Ireland to a provisional government led by Michael Collins. The first test of the new state came with a general election on 25 June 1922.¹ In an effort to avert civil war Collins and de Valera signed a pact that would allow the pro- and anti-Treaty factions to return to the Dáil in their existing strength. Neither man appears to have understood the workings of proportional representation, because such a pact was simply not feasible in multi-seat constituencies, with other parties and independents also entitled to enter the fray. Collins repudiated the pact just two days before the general election. Despite widespread intimidation by anti-Treaty forces, who came to be known as the Irregulars, the pro-Treaty panel of candidates polled nearly twice as many votes as its opponents. If the votes of Labour, Farmers’ Party and independent candidates are added to the pro-Treaty total the result was even more decisive, with less than 22 per cent of the electorate voting for candidates who opposed the settlement. After the election the Provisional Government issued an ultimatum to the Irregulars to leave the Four Courts and release a hostage they were holding there. The republicans refused, and the Civil War began with an attack on the Four Courts by the Free State army on 28 June. Collins had come under enormous pressure from Churchill to take action after the assassination of Sir Henry Wilson, and the British provided the artillery for the Free State forces to launch a bombardment of the Irregular positions.

The garrison surrendered after three days, but in the course of the fighting the Public Record Office, and much of its invaluable collection of historic documents, was destroyed. Street fighting took place in Dublin, and O’Connell Street was again left in ruins, only six years after 1916. In a major military offensive, the Free State forces drove the Irregulars out of all the major towns by the end of August, with successful seaborne landings in Cork and Tralee. After that the Irregulars took to guerrilla war. Collins took temporary leave from his position as chairman of the Provisional Government to concentrate on winning the war and W.T. Cosgrave was elected by his colleagues as cabinet chairman in his place, while Arthur Griffith continued on as president of Dáil Éireann.

Although circumstances had taken Griffith down a political route, he was more comfortable with the life of a journalist. Born in Dublin in 1871, he later followed his father into the printing trade, which served as his first introduction to journalism. Over the course of his career he developed an impressive résumé of newspaper titles, which included the United Irishman, Sinn Féin, Éire, Scissors and Paste and Nationality. A skilled polemicist, his writings helped shape a generation of young separatists. In The Resurrection of Hungary, published first as a series of articles and then in pamphlet form in 1904, he wrote of how the Austro-Hungarian model of dual monarchy could be applied to the Anglo-Irish relationship. In particular, he proposed that the policy of passive resistance followed by Hungary in the middle of the nineteenth century be adopted in Ireland. His economic thinking was shaped by Friedrich List and Henry Carey, both of whom advocated protectionism. Not only was this the cornerstone of Sinn Féin’s economic policies but it would also influence, and divide, thinking in Cumann na nGaedheal throughout the 1920s.

Although 1916 and the subsequent independence struggle were at odds with his policy of non-violence, Griffith remained active in Sinn Féin, which became a very different party to that which he had founded with Bulmer Hobson. He ultimately led the delegation to Britain that signed the Treaty on 6 December 1921. Defending the settlement in the Dáil, he argued, ‘We have brought back to Ireland equality with England.’² Griffith remained a journalist at heart, and his final involvement with a publication came only a year before his sudden death. An Saorstát – the organ of the pro-Treatyites – first appeared in February 1922, reflecting Griffith’s belief in the value of a newspaper for advancing a cause. Though Griffith features in the Fine Gael pantheon of great leaders, his legacy, Colum Kenny suggests in a new biography, belongs to no single political party today.³

In contrast to Griffith, Michael Collins was seen to be at the forefront of the physical struggle after 1919. Born in Co. Cork in 1890, he emigrated to London in 1906, where he became involved with the Irish Republican Brotherhood through the GAA. The organisational abilities he displayed within the association would later prove invaluable. Like many of his contemporaries, he came to prominence in republican circles through this connection. Later, countless people involved in the campaign for independence would claim to have met or soldiered alongside him. But, as his recent biographers Anne Dolan and William Murphy have observed, ‘the image we have of him comes filtered through a sensational lens, exaggerated out of all proportion.’ Collins himself knew the power of persona, capitalising on it where he could.⁴ The image that endures long after his death is the powerful figure he cut in his commander-in-chief uniform. Had he lived and chosen to become a full-time politician, his personality was such that he might have provided Cumann na nGaedheal with a charismatic rival to de Valera, while his exceptional organisational abilities might have resulted in the creation of a more defined branch structure. Or would his great military reputation have withered, like Richard Mulcahy’s? And would his authoritarian streak have been reconciled with the practice of democratic politics? These are the great ‘what ifs’ of Irish history.

But let us return to the months before his death. On the instructions of Collins, the first meeting of the third Dáil was postponed on a number of occasions during the summer, pending the stabilisation of the military situation. Following the outbreak of hostilities at the end of June, Griffith and the members of the Provisional Government, whose lives were now in constant danger, were compelled to live together under military guard in the newly acquired Government Buildings in Upper Merrion Street, which is now the Department of the Taoiseach. As the war intensified, some ministers brought their families there for safety.

On 22 August, just ten days after the death of Griffith, came the news of Collins’s death at Bealnablath. The cabinet met that night in Cosgrave’s office and the immediate concern was to ensure that there were no military reprisals. Collins’s body was brought back from Cork to Dublin by boat and lay in state in City Hall. He was buried in Glasnevin alongside Griffith, Parnell and O’Connell. Richard Mulcahy delivered the graveside oration.

Although he was acting chairman of the Provisional Government, Cosgrave was not the only name considered by the leaders of the pro-Treaty party. While he had been a founder-member of Sinn Féin and a highly regarded member of Dublin Corporation, Cosgrave did not have the romance associated with the leaders of the armed wing of the independence movement. Richard Mulcahy and Eoin MacNeill were asked by supporters to put their names forward. The dynamic and abrasive Kevin O’Higgins, who never had an easy relationship with Cosgrave, pressed Richard Mulcahy to contest the position. ‘O’Higgins’ idea was that I should be the head of the Government,’ wrote Mulcahy, ‘but there was no move to discuss that and as far as I was concerned the position with regard to the army was that I didn’t believe that the army could be handled by anyone except myself after Collins’ death. Therefore, the question of my taking over the Government would be an utter impossibility at that time.’⁵

The writer Terence de Vere White, who knew many of the leading figures, recalled that, while O’Higgins favoured Mulcahy, support for Cosgrave was so strong that he withdrew his opposition. O’Higgins, though, is reputed to have sneered that ‘a Dublin corporator would make Ireland a nation once again.’ On the republican side there was a misguided view that Cosgrave and his colleagues would not be able for the task facing them. Writing at the end of August, Liam Lynch suggested, ‘Collins’ loss is one which they cannot fill. The enemy’s position from the point of view of military and political leadership is very bad. We are at present in a much better position.’

Despite the reservations of some colleagues, Cosgrave was confirmed in his position as chairman of the Provisional Government. The first thing he did was to abandon the policy instigated by Collins of deferring the meeting of the third Dáil until the Civil War was over, and he summoned the newly elected TDs to meet on 9 September. At that meeting he was proposed and elected as president of the Dáil, in succession to Griffith, combining that position with his role as chairman of the Provisional Government. In a typically short and pithy speech he set out his priorities.

It is my intention to implement the Treaty as sanctioned by the vote of the Dáil and the electorate, insofar as it was free to express an opinion, to enact a constitution, to assert the authority and supremacy of parliament, to support and assist the national army in asserting the people’s rights, to ask parliament, if necessary, for such powers as are deemed essential for the purpose of restoring order to suppress all crimes, to expedite as far as lies in the power of the Government the return of normal conditions throughout the country, and having established Saorstát on a constitutional basis, to speed the work of reconstruction and reparation.

Cosgrave continued to maintain an outward reluctance to accept the leadership, and at his first meeting with the Northern Ireland prime minister, James Craig, he protested: ‘You know, I’ve been pushed into this. I’m not a leader of men.’ This self-effacing judgement should not be taken too seriously. Winston Churchill, who knew something about the qualities needed in a leader of men, wrote:

The void left by the deaths of Griffith and Collins was not unfilled. A quiet potent figure stood in the background sharing, like Griffith, the dangers of the rebel leaders without taking part in all that they had done. In Cosgrave the Irish people found a chief of higher quality than any who had yet appeared. To the courage of Collins he added the matter of fact fidelity of Griffith and a knowledge of practical administration and state policy all his own.

Cosgrave typically laughed off Churchill’s assessment and told friends with a twinkle in his eye that the only reason he had been described as ‘a chief of higher quality’ than any of the others was that he had taken the trouble to ask after Churchill’s health after a fall from a pony during the tense negotiations of May 1922.⁶ The historian Joseph Curran got it about right:

Cosgrave’s self-assessment was too modest, for in his quite commonsensical way he made an effective leader. He delegated authority wisely, handled ministerial disputes even-handedly and was, on the whole, an ideal chairman. His colleagues valued his advice and steadiness and long before he left office his competence and wit had made him personally very popular with voters.⁷

On the day the third Dáil met for the first time the Irish Times published a perceptive profile of Cosgrave, pointing out that he ‘dresses generally in sombre hues, wears a bowler hat and looks rather like the general manager of a railway company’. It went on to say:

He is undoubtedly the most capable man in the new Irish Parliament and that may be said without the slightest contradiction of any of his colleagues. As Premier of the Free State he has a formidable task before him but in one way he is almost the ideal choice because he has no violently extremist past to live down and with him the problem of saving face does not arise.⁸

The poet Padraic Colum, a long-time friend and political ally, provides the following pen-picture of W.T. as he took over the leading role in the Dáil in the autumn of 1922:

He speaks leaning forward, his hands on the barrier before him; his delivery becomes like a series of pistol shots, each word shot out, each word reaching its mark. He is sociable as becomes a Dublin man and abundantly witty. His wit is a Dublin wit. It is founded on a very exact estimate of character. He can reveal character in a mordant phrase. Before his humour, before the phrase that springs up in his speech pretentiousness of all kinds falls away.⁹

During September 1922 the Civil War intensified and Mulcahy proposed that the army be given the power to try and punish a wide range of offences. After long discussion at cabinet the details of an Emergency Powers Bill were agreed. This provided for the establishment of military tribunals, which were empowered to impose the death penalty for serious offences, including the possession of weapons. When the bill was introduced in the Dáil, Cosgrave told deputies that ‘those who persist in those murderous attacks must learn that they have got to pay the penalty for them.’ In response to suggestions from the Labour leader Tom Johnson, Cosgrave announced an amnesty on 3 October to give republicans a chance to surrender before the new provisions came into effect. Few availed of the option, and the special powers came into effect on 15 October, the day after the amnesty expired.

The first executions took place a month later when four young men, found guilty of carrying unauthorised arms in Dublin, were shot by a firing squad. A week later an execution took place that elevated the Civil War into a new phase. The leading anti-Treaty figure Erskine Childers was captured at his cousin’s home in Co. Wicklow and had in his possession a pistol given to him by Michael Collins. He was tried and convicted by a military court and executed the following morning. Cosgrave vigorously defended the execution of Childers in the Dáil on 28 November and he outlined the basis of his government’s policy.

What do we want? We want simply order restored to this country. We want all arms under the control of the people who elected us and who can throw us out tomorrow if they so desire. We want that the people of this country only shall have the right to say who are to be armed and who are not; and we are going to get the arms if we have to search every house in the country.

Maintaining that the same law had to apply to the ‘intellectual’ Childers as applied to the four ‘poor men’s sons’ who had been executed a week earlier, Cosgrave went on:

People who rob with arms are going to be brought before military courts and found guilty. Persons robbing at the point of the gun will be executed without discrimination. This is going to be a fair law, fairly administered and administered in the best interests of the country for the preservation of the fabric of society … We are going to see that the rule of democracy will be maintained no matter what the cost and no matter who the intellectuals that may fall by reason of the assertion of that right.

The response of the Irregulars to the emergency powers came on 30 November when the IRA chief of staff, Liam Lynch, sent instructions to all battalion commanders to conduct operations against the enemy. No less than fourteen categories of people were directed to be ‘shot at sight’, including all members of the Provisional Dáil who had voted in favour of the Emergency Powers Act. As well as that, republicans were ordered to kill members of the Senate, High Court judges, journalists and proprietors of hostile newspapers and even ‘aggressive Free State supporters’. The homes and offices of all these people were also to be destroyed, as were the homes of ‘imperialist deputy lieutenant of the county types’. There followed a series of outrages by republicans against politicians, journalists and ordinary citizens.¹⁰

As the Civil War escalated the government faced other problems. A constitution had to be drafted and enacted to put the operations of the government and the Dáil on a legal basis. A police force was hurriedly established, and in a courageous and an imaginative move the new Civic Guard, later called An Garda Síochána, was established as an unarmed force, in contrast to its predecessor, the RIC. This was one of the most important decisions the government made to legitimise the institutions of the new state. On 6 December 1922, the first anniversary of the Treaty, the new constitution approved by the Dáil in October came into force. The Irish Free State formally came into being and the Provisional Government ceased to exist. Cosgrave was formally re-elected by the Dáil to the position of president.

The republican response to the new constitution was swift. The day after it was enacted two Dáil deputies were gunned dow...