Many factors contributed to outsider Mary Robinson's dramatic victory in the Republic's 1990 presidential election. The visual management of her public image may have played a decisive role. Here Ciarán Swan describes how that image came to be constructed, and how subsequent political campaigns have drawn lessons from that image-management process.

The presidential election campaign of Mary Robinson changed Irish political imagery. Although personality-based campaigns had been run previously, the Robinson campaign in 1990 showed the increasing importance of modifying the visual image of candidates in order to broaden their appeal. It also reinforced the importance of political visual signifiers.

Previous presidential elections had been staid affairs, with candidates usually being former senior politicians. Fianna Fáil won every election and a perception had grown that the role of President was one distant from the public—unsurprisingly, as the last contested election for President was held in 1973.

Labour had never put forward a candidate, due in part to their small numbers. Following an improved showing at the 1989 general election, their leader Dick Spring and his advisor Fergus Finlay decided that the presidential election was an opportunity to project the party as a political force. They recognised that a Labour candidate would need to have a popularity that extended beyond the 15% that Labour had won in 1989 in order to have a chance of winning.

The candidate

Finlay states that Spring sought a candidate who would be "…different…having an impact, especially on younger voters" [1], a candidate who would step outside the stereotypical view of the presidency as a retirement job. Eventually the name of Mary Robinson was put forward. A distinguished barrister and former law professor with a strong liberal profile on civil and human rights, she was only forty-four. Elected to Seanad Éireann during the 1970s, she joined the Labour Party in 1976 but resigned from the party in the mid-1980s.

Robinson accepted the proposal. However, as Emily O'Reilly has noted, there were a number of disputes between her and Labour [2]. Spring wanted her to rejoin Labour, while she was resolute that she would campaign as an independent supported by Labour. Spring eventually acceded to her wish and in April she was officially nominated. However, divisions remained.

O'Reilly describes the initial image that was presented of Robinson as a candidate with "…affiliations firmly planted on the left-liberal side of the political spectrum. She was photographed flanked by members of the Labour Party, the Workers' Party…and by…trade union and women's groups" [3]. This image was to be modified as the weeks passed.

Early during the campaign Eoghan Harris, formerly an advisor to the Workers' Party, forwarded a letter to Mary Robinson. A one-time RTÉ producer, able to arouse admiration and condemnation in equal quantities for his political positions, his abilities in the field of image promotion were widely respected. He was involved in the successful 1989 European-election campaign of Workers' Party leader Proinsias De Rossa where the imagery used was a precursor of that of the Robinson campaign.

The abiding image of the De Rossa campaign was a black-and-white photograph of the candidate on Sandymount Strand. The photograph was taken by fashion photographer Mike Bunn. The image played with various subtexts: the Strand depicted nature, the twin towers of the Pigeon House in the background ‘controllable' industry, the heavy overcoat De Rossa wore an ‘heroic…1940s' image. The slogan A breath of fresh air reinforced the overall effect. Whether such covert meanings were decoded by the electorate is open to question. Nonetheless this was a striking political image and was perceived as such by other parties. Indeed Bunn was later commissioned by Fianna Fáil.

Harris outlined what he considered to be the prerequisites for a successful presidential campaign. Robinson was impressed and subsequently they met. Harris delivered a ten-page memo which Finlay has described as dealing with issues of style and of substance, in other words defining the image the candidate had to project and the policy positions that she had to strike [4]. Harris was employed as an advisor, and later produced three election broadcasts, but perhaps unsurprisingly in view of his turbulent reputation, his initial involvement remained secret. Although his overall role was later disputed, his comments on logos and posters are worth reproducing as an insight into the resulting imagery:

CAMPAIGN LOGOS

You need distinctive, attractive European colour systems for posters and logos. Colour is critical. Think of the way Peter Mandelson used the red rose in Britain. You need a ‘feminine' but strong colour system, preferably Italian style with a typography designed by a graphic artist with a feel for that kind of ‘soft' political attack. [5]

The logo

Both Robinson and Labour agreed that the rose, the traditional symbol of European social democracy, would provide a valid signifier for the campaign. Finlay considered the rose "an important symbol of a broad left campaign" [6]. This was partly as a result of the widely admired British Labour Party 1987 election campaign. British Labour adopted more centrist policies and emphasised the personality of their leader Neil Kinnock while discarding the hard-edged ideological red-flag imagery and replacing it with a red-rose logo. There was general agreement that British Labour ‘won' the campaign in terms of media presentation. Irish Labour analysed the performance of their fraternal comrades and drew important conclusions relating to electoral campaigning. Indeed a similar ideological shift had occurred within the Irish Labour party, and Finlay and Spring were keen to cement this process visually by introducing the rose as the Labour symbol, replacing the traditional iconography of the Starry Plough and red flag. The Robinson campaign provided a trial run. The rose served as a shorthand for modernity and modernity, being a mutable concept, would not alienate the broader electorate.

Robinson's husband Nick commissioned the design of a rose logo. The design, a soft painterly interpretation, was accepted but the colour, brown, was unacceptable to Labour. The root of the dispute was over the association of the rose with the ‘left', the feeling being that brown would, "…move it away from meaningful association with the left" [7].

Robinson recognised the importance of appearing detached from Labour if she was to appeal to a broader political constituency. An explicit visual link could be read as a structural link. That such a link existed through a campaign committee containing many Labour members was irrelevant—the point was that this could not be seen to be so. Yet Labour required a leftist element in the visual expression of the campaign, validating Labour participation, indicating an ongoing modernisation and appealing to the wider left constituency. Finlay, somewhat ironically in light of his role in discarding the Starry Plough, was tenacious in fighting to retain the red rose and eventually his view prevailed. His attitude reveals the potency of visual imagery, even for those who apply the most dispassionate gaze.

The Robinson rose, with its moderated political meaning, embodied referents that hinted at a feminisation of the presidential campaign. Colm Ó Briain, former General Secretary of the Labour Party, put it succinctly: when commenting on the Robinson rose he compared it to the candidate, "…of but not in the Labour Party" [8].

The poster

Harris recommended minimal campaign literature. In his estimation campaigns "don't need to leaflet…just go for a good poster and TV advertising" [9]. The campaign poster was simple. The black-and-white photograph of the candidate was the centrepiece of the composition, occupying two thirds of the available space. Beneath that was her name and the campaign slogan, A President with a Purpose.

Contrast that photograph of Robinson with one taken on the day of her nomination. In the earlier image her hair was long and straight and she wore a severely cut jacket and high-necked blouse. The image was formal, entirely appropriate within the context of the legal professional but somewhat at odds with the perceived needs of the campaign.

According to Finlay, Robinson engaged in consultation about her appearance and the clothes that would suit her. She utilised the services of a professional hairdresser who was responsible for the change in her visual appearance.

The very fact that Mary Robinson was a woman was of itself a defining aspect of her candidacy. The concept of glamour was introduced, as if making Robinson appear more conventionally visually attractive this would somehow ‘humanise' her image. In the campaign poster she wore a stylish mid-coloured jacket over a plain top. Her hair was styled in curls so that it framed her face. The background was neutral and she smiled openly at the viewer. The image projected a formal ‘informality'—Robinson depicted as efficient but relaxed.

Padraig Flynn's infamous comment, "…none of those who knew Mary Robinson very well in previous incarnations…" (my italics), while inaccurate, also missed the point. Whatever image was projected would inevitably be a construct, as would be true for any politician. The Mary Robinson of 1990 had undergone a professional image-making process, whereas the Mary Robinson of previous years had not. Such image management was considered politically necessary. Indeed, whether or not the perception of the office of President as aloof was in fact correct, it made sense for Robinson to campaign as if it were so. The image of her youth, her gender and her approachability was thought to contrast favourably with her opponents'.

Conceptually the reality of the image is essentially irrelevant. It operates on a Barthian level, providing a perfect analogue of the staged reality of much commercial advertising. A ‘mythic' image is created. Little or nothing is transmitted about Mary Robinson as Presidential candidate, no exposition of policy, no analysis of function or role. It is visual shorthand, projecting an emotive rather than a rational image. Robinson comes across as attractive, sophisticated, approachable—all positive human qualities, but not necessarily those required for a political position. It is this transmutation of ‘human' qualities into positive political qualities which makes it a prime example of modern political imagery.

The imagery of the other candidates was markedly different. Austin Currie of Fine Gael and Brian Lenihan of Fianna Fáil were both politicians. Lenihan, a former Tánaiste, had recently weathered a serious illness and was widely perceived the most likely candidate to succeed. Currie, a founding member of the SDLP, had moved south and joined Fine Gael. Lenihan was photographed facing the viewer and smiling faintly. Currie was photographed seated in a library. The accompanying signifiers are telling—formal bearing, dark suits and restrained ties—belying the slogan accompanying the Currie poster: A new style of President. All create an explicit linkage between the candidates and a traditional view of the Presidency. The library is particularly revealing, an almost parodic signifier of education.

The use of logos is interesting. The FG initials replaced the Fine Gael name and the Fianna Fáil initials were appended almost as an afterthought. Neither party wished to over-emphasise the party-political dimension. The Robinson rose was utilised in a visually prominent manner, but that symbol had the advantage of transcending overt linkages with a single party.

The contrasts between Robinson and her opponents can be summarised as between youthfulness and experience, vitality and gravitas, party and nonparty. In truth Mary Robinson was an experienced former politician, a professional barrister supported by two political parties. Yet the contrasting imagery of the election supports two different views of the Presidency. One proposed a ‘modernised', open, approachable concept of the position, the other reinforced the traditional and established role of the office. In Robinson the former view was embodied in her as the first woman and first non-Fianna Fáil candidate to contest the Presidency.

The 1990s

This campaign was to influence political parties during the 1990s, regardless of ideological orientation, particularly in the emphasis on more relaxed imagery. At the 1992 general election Spring was projected in a semi-presidential-style campaign. 1997's general election saw Fianna Fáil and the Progressive Democrats use personality-led campaigns. The Bertie Ahern poster became the notable image of that campaign. Dubbed ‘The Prince of Darkness', the poster depicted Ahern set against a dark background. The imagery was deliberately presidential in style, promoting Ahern as a thoughtful and youthful leader.

For the Progressive Democrats such imagery proved problematic. In a reprise of the Robinson imagery, the party used black-and-white photographs of candidates with leader Mary Harney. The intent was explicit. Harney enjoyed high opinion-poll ratings and was a positive selling point. Although it was logical to assume that an elision of her image with the candidates would strengthen the overall image, in practice it did not work. The posters were dark, with Harney an uncomfortable presence looming behind the candidates. During the campaign Harney's poll ratings slumped following a number of pronouncements on social policy. Unfortunately the posters were up, and the positive Harney image had become a negative.

The influence of the Robinson campaign was also evident at the 1997 presidential election. Four of the five candidates were female, an indication that the parties sought to emulate the Robinson style and evidence that Robinson had altered the perception of the office. The process of professional image management that Mary McAleese, Mary Banotti and Dana underwent was clearly inspired by the Robinson campaign. In contrast, the joint Green, Labour Party and Democratic Left candidate Adi Roche initially appeared less media-managed. As her ratings dipped Finlay and others reworked her image, but to no avail [10]. Tellingly the eventual winner, Mary McAleese, started with a lower public profile than her opponents. Clearly, in this instance professional image management and presentation was only one factor among many.

Conclusion

It would be overstating the case to claim that the visual imagery of the Robinson campaign propelled the candidate to success. Political issues disrupted Brian Lenihan's campaign, allowing Robinson to emerge as victor. Yet the visuals contributed to the dynamic of the campaign and their influence on the subsequent imagery of other political parties suggests that they were regarded it as effective. Whether the use of image management by politicians comes at the expense of policies and issues is a serious question. Certainly those with the greatest resources can project their imagery to the greatest extent.

It is unfortunate that such imagery, due to its impermanent nature, is often regarded as trivial: the purpose that determines its creation is not. The political parties pour money and expertise into the area. Its ubiquity and the manner in which it permeates our society, if only for a limited period, speak of profound cultural and social significance. Cultural commentator Nicholas Backlund, in a critique of modern American political imagery, states that "how…parties translate ideas into visual ciphers offers a revealing look at how they view themselves and the electorate" [11]. Political imagery is a snapshot, however imperfect, of a point in the political and social life of a society. This is where the processes of democracy are projected into the public space, the point at which the political is made visual.

[1] Fergus Finlay, Snakes & Ladders, Dublin: New Island Books, 1998, p. 82
[2] Emily O'Reilly, Candidate, Dublin: Attic Press, 1991, p. 36
[3] Ibid., p.41
[4] Fergus Finlay, Mary Robinson, A president with a Purpose, Dublin: O'Brien Press, 1990, p. 41
[5] Eoghan Harris, cited by O'Reilly, op. cit.
[6] Fergus Finlay, unpublished interview with the author, Dublin, November 12, 1997
[7] Ibid.
[8] Colm Ó Briain, unpublished interview with the author, Dublin, December 5, 1996
[9] Eoghan Harris, unpublished interview with the author, Dublin, December 10, 1996
[10] Finlay, 1997, op. cit.
[11] Nicholas Backlund, Red, White and Bland, ID Magazine, Vol. 38, March/April 1991, New York, p. 60