Just Mary (8 page)

As regards Education and Health, it was clear that the main spending area was staff — teachers and doctors and nurses — and that inevitably, this was where cuts would somehow have to
be made. Education costs could be cut by increasing the Pupil/Teacher Ratio (the
PTR
) and yet, despite all of the cutbacks my predecessor Gemma Hussey had imposed, she had
steered clear of this one — and with good reason. My own teaching background informed me that this was a measure that would just not be worn by the teachers’ unions. I knew in fact that
parents wouldn’t initially attach that much significance to the issue, until prodded to do so by the
INTO
, the Association of Secondary Teachers, Ireland (
ASTI
) and the Teachers’ Union of Ireland (
TUI
), because to parents, if their child was in a classroom and being well taught, that was all that really
mattered.

In April 1987, before the true implications of Ray MacSharry’s proposed budget had become clear, I had to undertake my obligatory tour of the teachers’ unions’ Easter
conferences. As a former teacher, I knew already that these conferences were like enormous bear pits, where the Minister was treated like a strange animal in a zoo — to be gazed at,
pilloried, baited and in the end to be just plain put up with, until he or she went off to his or her next stop on the Via Dolorosa. Fortunately, I went along knowing that, if I had one strong
thing going for me, it was that I had actual teaching experience myself and that I genuinely believed that teachers work hard and contribute much to society by their careful nurturing of a young
person — particularly at primary level, I felt (even though my own professional experience had been at secondary level), when one takes over
in loco parentis
, so to speak. Also to my
great advantage, I had my valued confidante, Margaret Walsh, who was a secondary school teacher in Dublin and an ex-president of
ASTI
, and whom, shortly after my appointment
as Minister, I had asked to be my Advisor in the Department. To my delight, Margaret had accepted the position and there is no doubt that her presence and wise counsel greatly helped my passage
through the
ASTI
conference and those of the other unions that Easter and in fact throughout my years in Education. Also of huge benefit was the good relationship I had
built up during my time as a teacher with my own trade union, the
ASTI
, and with their then General Secretary, Kieran Mulvey. Kieran, whilst berating me as Minister as good
as the next, was always careful to keep things cordial and courteous.

I cannot over-emphasise here the extent to which Ireland was not just in the financial doldrums, but in a financial wasteland. We found ourselves directionless in a vast tundra of national debt,
over which the previous government had presided apparently helplessly for more than four-and-a-half years. Alan Dukes and John Bruton, as the two successive Ministers for Finance, had no doubt
tried to rein in spending but because of the influence of Labour, were just not able to do so with any kind of effectiveness.

As I have said, the really big cuts Mac the Knife had in mind had not yet been formalised, and so that Easter at the conferences of the teachers’ unions, I was given a fool’s pardon,
so to speak. I distinctly remember going to the
INTO
’s Annual Congress in Ennis that year. As a school principal in a small rural school in County Clare, my paternal
grandfather had been a firebrand union adherent, noted for his radical views and his sterling espousal of the
INTO
. In true Lenihan fashion, he had fallen out with the
hierarchy and had had various spats with authority, so there was nothing new in the spark of antiauthoritarianism which was to re-emerge in our family in the following generations. All of this was
mentioned in speeches at the conference and I felt a glow of fondness for my grandfather, who had in his own way blazed a trail, allowing me a safe entry to this, my first teachers’ union
conference. Luckily for me too, the
ASTI
were hospitable as well and politeness prevailed. The
TUI
, under the direction of Jim Dorney, were more
watchful and wary, but the proceedings at their conference also passed off without difficulty that Easter.

This was all before the really bad news broke, of course. For me, the most painful financial decision endorsed by Cabinet in 1987 to 1988 was the proposal to change the
PTR
, leaving each teacher responsible for more pupils than heretofore. This proposed measure became known as the infamous ‘20/87’ — a term which has never left my mind
and still provokes a degree of dread in me to this day. (Circular number 20 was issued by the Department of Education in 1987, detailing changes in
PTR
.) It was announced
that these strictures were to be imposed at primary, secondary and vocational level, and immediately huge uproar ensued. Of course I could not justify it on educational grounds, only on financial
ones and that was proving very difficult. Even now, 25 years later, the present government is finding it difficult to explain to people why there have to be financial cutbacks. It was extremely
sore indeed in 1987/88, and there were numerous talks and walks and a huge teacher gathering in Dublin, when the union members and others turned out in force to protest against the proposed change
in the
PTR
.

A more vehement protest against the ‘20/87’ proposals developed back in my home town. One particular Saturday, over 12,000 parents, teachers and children marched up to my very
ordinary bungalow on my very ordinary road in Athlone, with banners and shouting and general clamour. As I watched, bemused, I found myself wondering whether this was to become a habitual Saturday
occurrence. At one point, Enda and my two sons suggested that they could give expression to their entrepreneurial spirit by setting up a homemade burger bar on the open green opposite the house,
but I quickly knocked that idea on the head!

As well as the crowds of protestors, present on that occasion too were the then national reporters on education: Christina Murphy of
The Irish Times
, John Walshe of the
Irish
Independent
and Pat Holmes of the
Irish Press
as was. They were three great people on whom I would come to rely more and more, and who had always an unbiased, objective view of all
that was going on in the field of education. I remember how, on the evening of that day, when the marchers had dispersed, Enda cooked a big roast of pork with crackling in our house. Christina
Murphy and Pat Holmes had gone back to Dublin, but John Walshe was able to stay for a while to partake of the pork. The headline for the piece he ran following the protest was, ‘Mary is a
cut
above the rest’, which of course was a reference to the cuts in education and to what had gone on under previous Ministers — but I always privately took this too as a sign
that John had enjoyed Enda’s cooking! The same John Walshe is now Special Advisor to Ruairi Quinn, Minister for Education.

The following week, I got a call from the Chairperson of Athlone Chamber of Commerce, who asked if they could please have another march soon, as the shops had done really well that day. Many of
the teachers were women, of course, and what would women do when they are in a strange town but go shopping! On a more serious note, the 12,000-strong crowd which invaded the streets of Athlone
that day was an indication of how high feelings were running at the time.

But I held tough, as indeed we all did. I knew that my travails paled beside those of Rory O’Hanlon. Whatever the damage caused by cramming more pupils in under the tutelage of one
teacher, it would be an even more serious matter if patients could not get access to hospitals. Yet it was clear that drastic cutbacks were necessary. Of course as time went on and as I got to know
the Department better, I began to see where some cutbacks could have been made — not in an easier fashion — no cutback is ever easy — but perhaps more judiciously. Hindsight and
experience are great things. But for now, it was the
rí rá
, the
ruaille buaille
and the constant deputations and the continual talks.

Fortunately, fate was to intervene in the shape of a mutual recognition by the unions and the government that the only way out of the dire financial circumstances in which we found ourselves was
by working together, rather than against each other. Only through talks and continuing cooperation could a plan be determined, which would put the country on a more even keel financially now and
for the future. Luckily, Peter Cassells, who was head of the trade union movement, was a very astute man — and steady, sane and sensible with it. Bertie Ahern was the then Minister for
Labour, and he and the Taoiseach and the unions began in a tentative way to talk together to see if they could come up with a plan — a Programme for National Recovery (or
PNR
). There followed an endless series of talks between the trade unions and the government, known as the Social Partnership Talks. Later, in relation to various programmes, other key
players were brought into the talks but in the beginning it was just the trade unions and the government, both sides fully convinced of the need to plan ahead in a realistic, problem-solving way
and both going into it wholeheartedly. It was clear to all that there was no way out of the current situation other than a coming together of the various interests, a pay pause and a determination
to work together to clear the miasma of Ireland’s debt.

And so began the
PNR
, the first social partnership which highlighted among many other things the importance of Education and Health as the key tenets for a healthy future
for the country. Of course, during these talks and consultations, the teaching unions along with all of the other various trade unions of the day seized their opportunity, and put forward that the
proposed Pupil/Teacher Ratio cutbacks should not take place. However, Education and I were saved by the bell, so to speak, in that when the school year began that autumn, the cuts were not as first
envisaged and gradually the suggested
PTR
changes fell by the wayside, first in disadvantaged schools and then all over. The main capital cutbacks and all of the other
attendant strictures on spending were to be held to, however, and Mac the Knife got ready to introduce a lethal second budget.

It was in the run-up to Easter 1988 that the Taoiseach and the trade unions, along with Padraig O’hUiginn, Secretary General to the Department of An Taoiseach, and Declan Brennan,
Secretary to my Department of Education, prepared to finally formalise the various measures to be taken under the
PNR
, which would relieve a degree of the pressure on many
interest groups and introduce a sense of coordination in how the way forward could be charted. After a difficult and at times very fraught week, it was Good Friday before all was signed and
sealed.

I was due to embark the following Easter week on my second tour of the teacher conferences. This time, I was to have a far more difficult ride than the previous year. As the details of the new
PNR
arrangement had not yet been fully worked out, let alone made public, most members at the conferences thought that the changes to the Pupil/Teacher Ratio, with its
draconian effects, were still to be implemented. My first conference was with the
INTO
on Easter Tuesday in Salthill, and there I got the silent treatment. The
INTO
Secretary, Joe O’Toole — later Senator Joe O’Toole — was a formidable foe but a decent guy. Prior to the event, he had phoned me and Margaret Walsh, to tell
us what kind of reception we should be expecting at the forthcoming meeting — the members had agreed that there was to be no booing, but there would be absolutely no clapping and no welcome
either — just total silence.

Nevertheless, I went along as planned. I wasn’t particularly upset at the prospect of being greeted by silence — to anyone involved in political life as I was, this can seem like a
reprieve: no heckling to be borne, after all! As I mounted the platform and took my place, the room was absolutely quiet. After the president had given his opening address, it was my turn to speak.
I stood at the podium. Something which always stood me in great stead in public life was the fact that I have a good, strong voice. This comes mainly, I think, from my teaching days. I was also
lucky to never have to rely on a script when speaking: I would read over the text of a speech a couple of times beforehand and then be able to stand up, look out at an audience, and speak fluently
and without hesitation. This is a great attribute for a politician and one that is well worth cultivating.

In any case, I stood there in front of the gathered might of the
INTO
members, said all I had to say and sat down to total silence — but to my mind, that
was a relief rather than a penance. Then, as the session was breaking up for lunch, I stood up at the microphone once more and thanked the
INTO
for their invitation to join
them for lunch, saying that I was delighted to accept — which led to a few gasps from the audience. I held my nerve and left the stage, determined not to be shunted out. I made sure to stop
and talk to a number of the delegates on the way out. Among these were teachers from Clare and from Westmeath, who broke the taboo and talked to me, shaking my hand and wishing me luck — much
to the chagrin of the top platform.

When I got outside that hall, I breathed a huge sigh of relief that I had passed that test! This gave me the strength I needed to go on to attend the conferences of the
ASTI
and the
TUI
, and deal head on with the varying degrees of distrust, disbelief and worry with which their members confronted me. In time, as my experience as
a Minister grew and the stringency of the financial situation began to ease, I would go on to forge strong working relationships and in some cases bonds of friendship with many of the union
members. After all, we were all in the one boat — we all had to work together — and I was a strong believer in keeping relationships vibrant and productive with what could have been
warring factions. Fortunately, this turned out not to be the case. I had a strong propensity within me for trade unions, and my ability to relate to them was consolidated by the fantastic work of
Margaret Walsh, my Advisor. Margaret was also always adept at buttressing me against bad news, and all in all managed my course in such a terrific way. We became firm friends and have remained such
ever since.