Tour of Thithe an Rialtais

This afternoon we toured the Government Buildings - the Irish name "Thithe an Rialtais" is much more interesting - which include the Department of the Taoiseach or "Prime Minister" of the government. The term derives from the Irish word for "leader" or "chief." Before describing the tour, I'll give you a little current events in Irish politics.

The sitting Taoiseach, is the embattled Brian Cowen of the now derided Fianna Fail party. Six ministers resigned from their posts last week and elections were called Thursday for March 11th (although Cowen may not survive that long if a no confidence vote is successful in the Dail Eireann). His troubles stem from a deal made with the now infamous Anglo Irish Bank for the government to guarantee its debts - a sum that turned out to be far larger than the GDP of the Republic. All signs point to massive defeat of Fianna Fail and the return to power of Fine Gael after more than a decade out of government.

Tours of the Government Buildings are given only on Saturday from 10:30 to 1:30pm with the each starting on the half hour. Tickets are free and are available at the nearby National Gallery starting at 10am. Believing that we may see lines akin to those for the Washington Monument, I volunteered last night to throw myself out of bed and queue for tickets. Even though only 20 tickets are given out for each tour, I had no trouble grabbing four. In a sign of the political climate though, the 1:30 tour was canceled (we saw camera crews gathering outside on our way to the Tesco after lunch).

Government Buildings

Sean, Kathryn, Brittany, and I gathered in Goldsmith and headed out for the 12:30 tour expecting a crowd to be gathering in front of the buildings. As it turns out, there were only nine tourists, one guide, and a government "minder" from time-to-time. After a quick walk through security, during which the new-looking automatic door broke, we assembled in the Buildings' courtyard. The building wraps around the square in the picture above, with mirrored archways on the left and right. The entrance to the square is bridged by enormous double-columned arches and sealed by wrought iron gates. The complex is the last public building to be constructed by the British soon after Ireland was granted home rule. Unfortunately we were not permitted to take pictures inside, so you will have to make due with my commentary.

Despite the seemingly ornate and commanding exterior, the interior was Spartan and rather common. The grand entrance-way used only for foreign dignitaries was little more than a cordoned off red carpet. Just beyond that entrance was a floor-to-ceiling stained glass window from the Ireland exhibition at the 1933 Chicago World's Fair. It included iconography representing the four provinces of Ireland, a harp - the official emblem, and a clover - the unofficial emblem.

From the main entrance we turned to the left and headed to the Taoiseach's office (above the archway on the left side of the building). Unlike the halls of Congress decorated with enormous and occasionally gaudy frescoes, the walls were bare except for a collection of modern paintings. Before entering the office we were shown two display cases of recent gifts to Ireland, as received by the Taoiseach during his state visits abroad. Having visited the Kennedy Library in Boston, I was surprised to only see two cases as compared to the library's wing dedicated to such gifts.

Inside the Office of the Taoiseach, I was again surprised by its modest design. While the Prime Minister is not the official head of state, he wields power akin to our President. Still, his oval office was lacking a large seal of the Taoiseach in the carpet and had few paintings along the walls. The generic desk was set off in the corner, which contrasted the impressive Italian-marble fireplace. Along the wall were three pictures: two with Obama in the States - last St. Patrick's Day, and one with Bill Clinton by the fireplace. A drawing of flowers behind the desk was signed T. Kennedy, but the tour guide was unsure if it was by the famous Ted.

From the office, we left the building through the main entrance and looped under the right archway to enter the building on the right via a side street that somewhat resembled an alleyway. Headed to the Cabinet room, we stopped in the hallway outside to see the portraits of every Taoiseach. Unlike the oil paintings of governors found on Beacon Hill, each portrait was done in colored pencil with little drawn beyond the shoulders and upper chest. Again they struck the modest cord that ran throughout the Government Buildings.

The Cabinet Room was filled by a large oval mahogany table, fashioned (with the accompanying chairs) by hand in Cork. The table was unadorned but for tablet computers stationed at each ministers' seat. The Taoiseach sits in the middle of the table, with his chair distinguished by a golden harp emblazoned on the black leather back cushion. Along the walls are portraits of famed Irish revolutionaries from the 1600s to the Easter Rebellion of 1916. In a display along the wall are the seal of the Irish Free State and the seal of the Republic, among other older mementos.

An adjoining room to the modern Cabinet Room holds the original table used by the cabinet. More modest than the last, it looked no different than a traditional, expandable dining room table. Ministers were less comfortable at this table, as only the Taoiseach's chair (again with the harp) had a back cushion.

And that concluded the tour. Considering the striking architecture of the exterior, I was not expecting the modesty that pervaded the building. When I was interning for Representative McGovern, I gave not a few tours of the Capitol, and became acquainted with its massive frescoes, friezes, statues, and other artwork. However, Ireland does not need to place every reminder from its past in one building, as many of the buildings throughout the country are older than any in the States. I suppose we needed a grandiose building in our new capital to signal our debut on the world stage, but Ireland has survived more than a few revolutions, wars, and tragedies to negate a need for ostentatious reminders in every government building.