Basil Chubb

Frederick Basil Chubb, political scientist: born Branksome, Dorset 8 December 1921; Lecturer in Political Science, Trinity College Dublin 1948-52, Fellow 1952-55 (Emeritus), Reader 1955-60, Professor 1960-91; married 1946 Margaret Rafter (died 1984), 1985 Orla Sheehan (one daughter); died Dublin 8 May 2002.

Twenty-five years ago, Basil Chubb was the personification of cool political science in Ireland, familiar on television, in the committee-rooms of state bodies, and in academic life. From a somewhat unlikely base in Trinity College Dublin, he established himself as both the pioneer of his subject and in time its most distinguished veteran. Cheerful, and pithy in speech, he seemed to make his way effortlessly into the bosom of the Irish public.

Frederick Basil Chubb, political scientist: born Branksome, Dorset 8 December 1921; Lecturer in Political Science, Trinity College Dublin 1948-52, Fellow 1952-55 (Emeritus), Reader 1955-60, Professor 1960-91; married 1946 Margaret Rafter (died 1984), 1985 Orla Sheehan (one daughter); died Dublin 8 May 2002.

Twenty-five years ago, Basil Chubb was the personification of cool political science in Ireland, familiar on television, in the committee-rooms of state bodies, and in academic life. From a somewhat unlikely base in Trinity College Dublin, he established himself as both the pioneer of his subject and in time its most distinguished veteran. Cheerful, and pithy in speech, he seemed to make his way effortlessly into the bosom of the Irish public.

It had not been roses all the way. Born in Branksome, Dorset, in 1921, the year of the Anglo-Irish Treaty, Chubb belonged to the generation of Englishmen who found themselves committed to war with Nazi Germany. Having reached Oxford University, he abandoned study to join the RAF. Shot down in 1944, he spent more than a year in Stalag Luft 3 which, after Colditz perhaps, was the Oxbridge among prisoner-of-war camps. A notable escape was engineered from within and below his hut.

Free in Attlee's Britain, Chubb returned to Oxford, graduating from Merton College in 1946, in Modern History. The country possessed more talent than opportunity, so he accepted a junior post at Trinity College Dublin, which was undergoing something of its own Attleean revolution. Having sung "God Save the King" (quietly enough) behind closed doors for 20 years or so, the college suddenly elected a new-style Provost, Albert McConnell, under whose leadership Chubb moved steadily upwards through academic and administrative promotions. A tippling Presbyterian and a mathematician, McConnell set out to woo Eamon de Valera, the Catholic puritan leader of Fianna Fail, who in his youth had had some slight association with Trinity's maths department.

Chubb had much to contribute, and he was fortunate in his contemporaries. In the history school, T.W. Moody had already made an impact on the study of Ireland's past, through the practice of a modern discipline learned in London at the Institute of Historical Research. Chubb's virtual invention of Irish political science could hardly have been possible without Moody's example, while in the public service there were stirrings of interest in the European Economic Community. Ireland's complex network of state- and semi-state bodies, together with its system of proportional representation in parliament, made for an ideal research topic and, for Chubb, a life's work of active and reflective participation.

His first substantial publication, The Control of Public Expenditure (1952), took the lid off a secretive and self-protecting administration. This assisted him to Fellowship in Trinity, and later in 1960 to the new Chair in Political Science. An Englishman was perhaps well placed to overcome the informal religious barriers which separated the Dublin colleges and, with Patrick Lynch in University College, Chubb demonstrated how participative the new-style don could be. Outside the seminar room, he made an impact on Irish television, and did much to demystify the ordinary viewer on the topic of Irish political culture.

Beyond the universities, he also made an early commitment to the Institute for Public Administration, the brainchild of Tom Barrington. Many of Chubb's most important publications were issued under the IPA imprint. If at first this reflected British publishers' lack of interest in Irish minutiae, the pattern quickly served to establish that high-quality research could be published locally for local consumption. Chubb's work always addressed itself to a non-academic public as well as to his fellow scholars. His audience included civil servants, the business community, the Confederation of Irish Employers, and – crucially – trade unions.

Before moving to Dublin, Chubb had married Margot Rafter, and they had counted George Orwell among their friends. She took a job in Trinity's underdeveloped library, and rose to become Head of Readers Services. They were a remarkable couple, sociable in a city which appreciates lively talk and new ideas. Chubb took out Irish citizenship in the early 1970s, amid rumours he intended to enter politics. His Trinity colleagues, Justin Keating and David Thornley, had joined the Irish Labour Party, but Chubb made no public commitment. The crisis in Ulster soon divided Thornley (also an Englishman) from the party line, and the bitterness of the period particularly affected the radical side of Labour.

In May 1970, Chubb was appointed by the government to chair a new Employer-Labour Conference. Two years later, he also took on Comhairle na Ospidal (the Hospitals Council), which he led with great success until his tenure died under Charles Haughey. These appointments did not inhibit his criticism of the political system, nor was he excluded from the increasingly popular discussion of politics on state television.

The Troubles made Chubb's academic specialism popular, and his publications gave backbone to the southern polity's sense of its own legitimacy, its capacity for self-reform, and its moral integrity. As Garret FitzGerald gradually dispelled the great clouds of British condescension towards the Irish Republic, Chubb's exposition and critique confirmed the substance, resourcefulness and worth of the Irish state. By now, of course, he was not alone in the field. Beyond Dublin, institutions of higher education were appointing Chubb's former students and a broader confidence in Irish political science became manifest.

In the final decade of his Trinity career, Basil Chubb maintained a formidable rate of publication. A Source Book of Irish Government, first published in 1964, went into a second edition in 1983. The Government and Politics of Ireland (1970) reached its fourth edition in 1992. His interest in voting history was reflected in a contribution to Ireland at the Polls, 1981, 1982 and 1987 (1987) though, characteristically, the emphasis was on the prospects for democracy rather than on the past. The Politics of the Irish Constitution (1991), published in his 70th year, rounded off a prolific career. To mark his retirement, colleagues assembled a Festschrift, Modern Irish Democracy (1993).

Although he was ever the loyal college man, and a popular figure in Dublin, there was a very private dimension to Basil Chubb. The seemingly effortless integration into Irish society, following quite rapidly on the aftermath of a prison-camp escape and the perils of bomber raids over Germany, could not have been achieved without great inner effort. There was an acerbic side to his cheerfulness. When a philosophy graduate applied for part-time work in Chubb's department, he was told, "I prefer philosophers to politicians" – the applicant's father had been a member of the Irish parliament.

W. J. Mc Cormack

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