17 July 1997 Edition
Looking after Number One
MICHEAL MacDONNCHA examines the politics behind the decline and fall of Charles Haughey
In a state where personality politics dominate, Charlie Haughey was the ultimate political personality for the best part of thirty years. Although he has been retired for the past five years the Dublin Castle tribunal has seen the final remnants of his career and reputation come crashing down. And still the focus is on the personality rather than the politics.
The Dublin Castle revelations, culminating in the appearance of Haughey, confirm the view of most citizens in the 26 Counties regarding the conduct of political life in the state. The political class has treated the state more like a potato republic than a real democracy. Cosy cartels of certain big business people and certain politicians have manipulated the political system for their own profit. This has included reaping commercial advantage from state companies and abusing the planning laws for private profit. Wealth buys first-class citizenship while poverty excludes hundreds of thousands from the economic benefits of the Celtic Tiger and from full participation in the democratic process.
He was the great Mayo man, the great Derry man. He was the great Dubliner, champion of the Northside, King of the Blaskets. He was Medici to Irish artists. He was the courageous yachtsman, the knowledgeable racehorse owner, the benevolent local squire
The beneficiaries are the same people who over many years preached fiscal rectitude and belt-tightening while protecting their own privileged positions. Charles Haughey was but one of those people. Some of his sternest critics are also among the wealthy elite whose trademark is hypocrisy and humbug.
These realities have been blurred by the personalisation of the issues around the venality of Haughey. His greatest transgression was that he reinforced this system of inequality, in common with successive governments which included Fine Gael, Labour and the Progressive Democrats.
Yet even now Haughey commands the support and sympathy of many people. And he commanded much greater support over the years. The decline and traumatic fall of his career left in its wake many disappointed people, especially those in his own Fianna Fáil party. What was his attraction? And, more importantly, what does it tell us about Irish politics?
Haughey attracted support like a political magnet for a variety of reasons. Back in the early 60s when he became a TD he was foremost in the rising generation of politicians who had grown up in the newly established Free State. Unlike the founding fathers of Fianna Fáil - de Valera, Sean Lemass, Frank Aiken - they had played no part in the struggle for independence or the Civil War. They regarded the state as theirs for the taking. The personal rancour of Civil War politics between Fianna Fáil and Fine Gael was no longer as strong, but a new element had been added. Economic prosperity in the 60s created the inevitable social and political clash. Old Money - generally represented by Fine Gael - clashed with New Money - generally represented by Fianna Fáil. Haughey was the personification of the flashy new politician, the ``men in mohair suits'' who were frowned on by the older breed.
It was common knowledge that he and his peers were not only on the rise but also on the make. And a huge part of his popularity was the image of the ``cute hoor'' screwing the system and getting away with it. While Fine Gael maintained their patrician pose as the founders of the state and the upholders of the highest standards, Fianna Fáil populism gave plenty of scope to politicians like Haughey.
The Arms Crisis was the main source of the Haughey myth. What was it really about? Forget about the question of who was and was not involved in the plans to import arms and hand them over for the defence of nationalists. More important was the political context.
The overwhelming feeling in the 26 Counties in 1969/70 was one of horror at the plight of nationalists at the hands of the Stormont regime and a desire to help them in any way possible. Rusty guns were dug up from dumps all over the country. People travelled North to join in the defence. Money and sympathy flowed towards the Northern nationalist cause. A blind eye was turned to much `subversive' activity. In the Fianna Fáil Cabinet at least three ministers - Neil Blaney, Kevin Boland and Haughey - favoured military intervention in the Six Counties.
But not for the first time Haughey wanted to have it both ways. He abandoned his co-defendants in the Arms Trial and escaped prosecution. Unlike Blaney and Boland he stayed in Fianna Fáil. Outside Lynch's cabinet he toured the Fianna Fáil grassroots, carefully cultivating the myth that he was the republican hawk in the party, ready to take on the Brits if only he was given the reins of power. All the while his personal wealth and his arrogance were growing.
When he won the Fianna Fáil leadership from Jack Lynch and took over as Taoiseach in 1979 his alleged republicanism was soon tested during the H-Block crisis. His dithering refusal to support the prisoners' demands lost him support; the election of two IRA prisoners, Kieran Doherty in Cavan-Monaghan and Paddy Agnew in Louth helped deprive him of victory in the 1981 election.
Back in power briefly in 1982 his administration was plagued by the GUBU scandals, including the tapping of journalists' phones. (Ten years later former Justice Minister Sean Doherty, who had been scapegoated by Haughey, spilled the beans on this affair, revealing Haughey's full knowledge of the tapping which he had strenuously denied. This precipitated Haughey's resignation.)
In opposition from 1982 to 1987 Haughey's nationalist rhetoric was at its height; he opposed the Hillsborough Agreement (``I believe the concept of Irish unity has been dealt a severe blow''), political extradition, and government spending cuts. ``Health cuts hurt the old, the sick and the handicapped'' said the 1987 Fianna Fáil poster. But back in power Haughey continued the cuts, left Fine Gael's Extradition Act on the statute book, and fully implemented the Hillsborough Agreement. Haughey governed in a minority administration with the support of Fine Gael under Alan Dukes' `Tallaght Strategy'. The beast, if beast he ever was, had been tamed.
It was extraordinary the belief that so many people still had in him. In 1990 Dublin republican Dessie Ellis went on hunger-strike against his extradition to England by Haughey's government. Taking a taxi to the Ellis family home this writer was told by the driver: ``But Charlie would never do it. He'll find a way out of that. He's a republican behind it all.''
For those in the 26 Counties who genuinely sought Irish unity Haughey was still seen as the only alternative to the pro-British Fine Gael-dominated coalitions with their disastrous record on the Six Counties. It wasn't that he was so great but that they were so bad. As yet no path towards the resolution of the conflict, no nationalist consensus, and no peace process had evolved.
When Haughey failed to win an overall majority yet again in 1989 he admitted that he had not realised people were so angry about the health cuts he had imposed.
It took six months of controversy in 1992 to finally topple Haughey. During that time the business class with which he was so closely identified was exposed in a series of scandals that revealed their greed for power and wealth - in the case of the Greencore and Telecom scandals they were ripping off the state for their own benefit. We now know that at this time Haughey was the kept man of Ben Dunne, one of the biggest businessmen in the country, and one of the worst employers.
We know also that his money was hived off into foreign bank accounts. This too is typical of the monied circles in which he moved. Anger at this aspect of the scandal should not be confined to Haughey. Tax evasion and tax avoidance is a service industry for a whole class of people, employing hordes of lawyers and accountants. Their patriotic rhetoric about building the Irish economy does not apply to themselves. Money is invested abroad, not in jobs and infrastructure at home. Tax due to provide sevices for Irish citizens is laughingly disdained. Massive amounts of personal wealth flow out of the country. The profits of the multinational companies on which they have made the economy almost totally dependent for employment, flow in the same direction.
If these are the crimes of Charles Haughey they are also the crimes of a whole class in Irish society, many of them on a much bigger scale than his. That is why all the focus will continue to be on the personality rather than the politics, on the man rather than what he represents. As Charles Haughey fades into history his successors are happily inhabiting the glittering palace he erected. And the rest of us are still outside the gates.
For the power and glory of Charlie Haughey
In the little case of £1.3 million, former Fianna Fáil leader Charles Haughey played hard right to the bitter end this week. No, he didn't have a lavish lifestyle. No, he didn't have time to worry about his personal financial dealings. No, for over thirty years he was off fulfilling his destiny as a TD, as a minister, and finally as Taoiseach.
This week, though once again centre stage, times have moved on for Charlie Haughey. In his heyday he would have been the last to arrive for an important function at Dublin Castle. On Tuesday he was over three hours early for his grilling at the McCracken Tribunal. What were the thoughts going through his head as he waited for yet one more confrontation with those who doubted his integrity?
Maybe he wandered back to another very public confrontation in October 1991 when facing hostile questions on the Greencore, Telecom and other scandals. He then told Leinster House that ``My detractors have failed to substantiate one single accusation against me''.
So what was Haughey thinking now, six years on. NEIL FORDE goes behind the facade and gives a view of what might have run through the Boss's head as he holstered up for one more duel.
A hero in his own head
What he wouldn't give now for the good old days. All he has to do is close his eyes and he can still remember, still savour the atmosphere. He would be surrounded by his noble courtiers, all of them waiting patiently, expectantly for his requests, his pronouncements, his diktats. No matter how demeaning the demand, they would do it, if he said it, it had to be so.
Even those plotters, the dissidents Colley. O'Malley, McCreevy would have to come and pull serious forelock, and why wouldn't they? Their Mercs, their status, their power all came from him. He was the sun to their day. He owned the lot of them.
How did that joke go? The one that Mara was always spouting off in the Shelbourne with his coterie of sycophantic hangers on. Oh yes, that's it. The Boss is in a restaurant with his cabinet ordering the dinner courses. ``I'll have the steak rare,'' says Haughey. ``What about the vegetables?'' asks the waiter. ``They'll have the same,'' says Haughey.
He can still just imagine it all. He would probably be sitting, regally no doubt, in some lush hospitality room at the RDS. Outside, the Soldiers of Destiny sing with one voice, ``Arise and follow Charlie''. Mara on his right side. His able lieutenant. ``No problem'' Lenihan dispatched to the podium as the warm up act for the evening's high point as RTE goes live with the centre piece of the annual Fianna Fáil ard fheis - Haughey's presidential speech.
He would now be waiting in the wings in that familiar pose - eyes glazed over as hand nestles Napoleon-like inside his jacket. Lenihan would whip them into a frenzy and when they were standing on their seats, ecstatic, Haughey would come on stage and deliver his state of the nation speech. In power or opposition, it made no difference. He was the real Taoiseach. He would survive the lot of them. Nobody could touch him. Nobody. Not you, not anyone.
Yes, all he had to do was to think about it and he knew he was a legend. He was the great Mayo man, the great Derry man. He was the great Dubliner, champion of the Northside, King of the Blaskets. He was Medici to Irish artists. He was the courageous yachtsman, the knowledgeable racehorse owner, the benevolent local squire who throws open his Gandon-designed mansion to worthy causes. The pensioners' friend, the man who saw off more adversaries than James Bond. The elder statesman, he even outlasted Thatcher.
He was the cat with nine lives but how did it end up here in the Castle, which he had restored, which he had cultivated carefully as the scene to one of his greatest achievements, when he carried the mantle as President of Europe?
Where was Lenihan now? Had he really dumped Lieutenant No Problem from the Cabinet?. Maybe he needed this dealt with on the quiet. Where was Doherty? He would sort it out. But then Doherty had sorted him out in the end, hadn't he? Ah well, everyone has a bad game now and then. There was a time when he'd only have to shout into the next room for Mara and he would be there ready for yet another backs to the wall shoot out. Who needed a Butch and Sundance when he and Mara could saddle up?
But even Mara has new masters now. The Boss, he realised, was going to have to go it alone, but who cares, he knew that he was worth ten of any of them. He would be remembered. Wouldn't he? Nobody could forget the Boss. He knew he was living history. Wasn't he?
He cast his mind back. He knew for sure that he had a list of achievements that dwarfed anything the rest of them did, even Mr Fitzer Two Shoes, with his Anglo Irish this and his Irish Times that. He didn't need any opinion columns to tell the people his thoughts. He taught the people to think, for God's sake.
In a state where personality politics dominate, Charlie Haughey was the ultimate political personality for the best part of thirty years. Although he has been retired for the past five years the Dublin Castle tribunal has seen the final remnants of his career and reputation come crashing down. And still the focus is on the personality rather than the politics.
The Dublin Castle revelations, culminating in the appearance of Haughey, confirm the view of most citizens in the 26 Counties regarding the conduct of political life in the state. The political class has treated the state more like a potato republic than a real democracy. Cosy cartels of certain big business people and certain politicians have manipulated the political system for their own profit. This has included reaping commercial advantage from state companies and abusing the planning laws for private profit. Wealth buys first-class citizenship while poverty excludes hundreds of thousands from the economic benefits of the Celtic Tiger and from full participation in the democratic process.
He was the great Mayo man, the great Derry man. He was the great Dubliner, champion of the Northside, King of the Blaskets. He was Medici to Irish artists. He was the courageous yachtsman, the knowledgeable racehorse owner, the benevolent local squire
The beneficiaries are the same people who over many years preached fiscal rectitude and belt-tightening while protecting their own privileged positions. Charles Haughey was but one of those people. Some of his sternest critics are also among the wealthy elite whose trademark is hypocrisy and humbug.
These realities have been blurred by the personalisation of the issues around the venality of Haughey. His greatest transgression was that he reinforced this system of inequality, in common with successive governments which included Fine Gael, Labour and the Progressive Democrats.
Yet even now Haughey commands the support and sympathy of many people. And he commanded much greater support over the years. The decline and traumatic fall of his career left in its wake many disappointed people, especially those in his own Fianna Fáil party. What was his attraction? And, more importantly, what does it tell us about Irish politics?
Haughey attracted support like a political magnet for a variety of reasons. Back in the early 60s when he became a TD he was foremost in the rising generation of politicians who had grown up in the newly established Free State. Unlike the founding fathers of Fianna Fáil - de Valera, Sean Lemass, Frank Aiken - they had played no part in the struggle for independence or the Civil War. They regarded the state as theirs for the taking. The personal rancour of Civil War politics between Fianna Fáil and Fine Gael was no longer as strong, but a new element had been added. Economic prosperity in the 60s created the inevitable social and political clash. Old Money - generally represented by Fine Gael - clashed with New Money - generally represented by Fianna Fáil. Haughey was the personification of the flashy new politician, the ``men in mohair suits'' who were frowned on by the older breed.
It was common knowledge that he and his peers were not only on the rise but also on the make. And a huge part of his popularity was the image of the ``cute hoor'' screwing the system and getting away with it. While Fine Gael maintained their patrician pose as the founders of the state and the upholders of the highest standards, Fianna Fáil populism gave plenty of scope to politicians like Haughey.
The Arms Crisis was the main source of the Haughey myth. What was it really about? Forget about the question of who was and was not involved in the plans to import arms and hand them over for the defence of nationalists. More important was the political context.
The overwhelming feeling in the 26 Counties in 1969/70 was one of horror at the plight of nationalists at the hands of the Stormont regime and a desire to help them in any way possible. Rusty guns were dug up from dumps all over the country. People travelled North to join in the defence. Money and sympathy flowed towards the Northern nationalist cause. A blind eye was turned to much `subversive' activity. In the Fianna Fáil Cabinet at least three ministers - Neil Blaney, Kevin Boland and Haughey - favoured military intervention in the Six Counties.
But not for the first time Haughey wanted to have it both ways. He abandoned his co-defendants in the Arms Trial and escaped prosecution. Unlike Blaney and Boland he stayed in Fianna Fáil. Outside Lynch's cabinet he toured the Fianna Fáil grassroots, carefully cultivating the myth that he was the republican hawk in the party, ready to take on the Brits if only he was given the reins of power. All the while his personal wealth and his arrogance were growing.
When he won the Fianna Fáil leadership from Jack Lynch and took over as Taoiseach in 1979 his alleged republicanism was soon tested during the H-Block crisis. His dithering refusal to support the prisoners' demands lost him support; the election of two IRA prisoners, Kieran Doherty in Cavan-Monaghan and Paddy Agnew in Louth helped deprive him of victory in the 1981 election.
Back in power briefly in 1982 his administration was plagued by the GUBU scandals, including the tapping of journalists' phones. (Ten years later former Justice Minister Sean Doherty, who had been scapegoated by Haughey, spilled the beans on this affair, revealing Haughey's full knowledge of the tapping which he had strenuously denied. This precipitated Haughey's resignation.)
In opposition from 1982 to 1987 Haughey's nationalist rhetoric was at its height; he opposed the Hillsborough Agreement (``I believe the concept of Irish unity has been dealt a severe blow''), political extradition, and government spending cuts. ``Health cuts hurt the old, the sick and the handicapped'' said the 1987 Fianna Fáil poster. But back in power Haughey continued the cuts, left Fine Gael's Extradition Act on the statute book, and fully implemented the Hillsborough Agreement. Haughey governed in a minority administration with the support of Fine Gael under Alan Dukes' `Tallaght Strategy'. The beast, if beast he ever was, had been tamed.
It was extraordinary the belief that so many people still had in him. In 1990 Dublin republican Dessie Ellis went on hunger-strike against his extradition to England by Haughey's government. Taking a taxi to the Ellis family home this writer was told by the driver: ``But Charlie would never do it. He'll find a way out of that. He's a republican behind it all.''
For those in the 26 Counties who genuinely sought Irish unity Haughey was still seen as the only alternative to the pro-British Fine Gael-dominated coalitions with their disastrous record on the Six Counties. It wasn't that he was so great but that they were so bad. As yet no path towards the resolution of the conflict, no nationalist consensus, and no peace process had evolved.
When Haughey failed to win an overall majority yet again in 1989 he admitted that he had not realised people were so angry about the health cuts he had imposed.
It took six months of controversy in 1992 to finally topple Haughey. During that time the business class with which he was so closely identified was exposed in a series of scandals that revealed their greed for power and wealth - in the case of the Greencore and Telecom scandals they were ripping off the state for their own benefit. We now know that at this time Haughey was the kept man of Ben Dunne, one of the biggest businessmen in the country, and one of the worst employers.
We know also that his money was hived off into foreign bank accounts. This too is typical of the monied circles in which he moved. Anger at this aspect of the scandal should not be confined to Haughey. Tax evasion and tax avoidance is a service industry for a whole class of people, employing hordes of lawyers and accountants. Their patriotic rhetoric about building the Irish economy does not apply to themselves. Money is invested abroad, not in jobs and infrastructure at home. Tax due to provide sevices for Irish citizens is laughingly disdained. Massive amounts of personal wealth flow out of the country. The profits of the multinational companies on which they have made the economy almost totally dependent for employment, flow in the same direction.
If these are the crimes of Charles Haughey they are also the crimes of a whole class in Irish society, many of them on a much bigger scale than his. That is why all the focus will continue to be on the personality rather than the politics, on the man rather than what he represents. As Charles Haughey fades into history his successors are happily inhabiting the glittering palace he erected. And the rest of us are still outside the gates.
For the power and glory of Charlie Haughey
In the little case of £1.3 million, former Fianna Fáil leader Charles Haughey played hard right to the bitter end this week. No, he didn't have a lavish lifestyle. No, he didn't have time to worry about his personal financial dealings. No, for over thirty years he was off fulfilling his destiny as a TD, as a minister, and finally as Taoiseach.
This week, though once again centre stage, times have moved on for Charlie Haughey. In his heyday he would have been the last to arrive for an important function at Dublin Castle. On Tuesday he was over three hours early for his grilling at the McCracken Tribunal. What were the thoughts going through his head as he waited for yet one more confrontation with those who doubted his integrity?
Maybe he wandered back to another very public confrontation in October 1991 when facing hostile questions on the Greencore, Telecom and other scandals. He then told Leinster House that ``My detractors have failed to substantiate one single accusation against me''.
So what was Haughey thinking now, six years on. NEIL FORDE goes behind the facade and gives a view of what might have run through the Boss's head as he holstered up for one more duel.
A hero in his own head
What he wouldn't give now for the good old days. All he has to do is close his eyes and he can still remember, still savour the atmosphere. He would be surrounded by his noble courtiers, all of them waiting patiently, expectantly for his requests, his pronouncements, his diktats. No matter how demeaning the demand, they would do it, if he said it, it had to be so.
Even those plotters, the dissidents Colley. O'Malley, McCreevy would have to come and pull serious forelock, and why wouldn't they? Their Mercs, their status, their power all came from him. He was the sun to their day. He owned the lot of them.
How did that joke go? The one that Mara was always spouting off in the Shelbourne with his coterie of sycophantic hangers on. Oh yes, that's it. The Boss is in a restaurant with his cabinet ordering the dinner courses. ``I'll have the steak rare,'' says Haughey. ``What about the vegetables?'' asks the waiter. ``They'll have the same,'' says Haughey.
He can still just imagine it all. He would probably be sitting, regally no doubt, in some lush hospitality room at the RDS. Outside, the Soldiers of Destiny sing with one voice, ``Arise and follow Charlie''. Mara on his right side. His able lieutenant. ``No problem'' Lenihan dispatched to the podium as the warm up act for the evening's high point as RTE goes live with the centre piece of the annual Fianna Fáil ard fheis - Haughey's presidential speech.
He would now be waiting in the wings in that familiar pose - eyes glazed over as hand nestles Napoleon-like inside his jacket. Lenihan would whip them into a frenzy and when they were standing on their seats, ecstatic, Haughey would come on stage and deliver his state of the nation speech. In power or opposition, it made no difference. He was the real Taoiseach. He would survive the lot of them. Nobody could touch him. Nobody. Not you, not anyone.
Yes, all he had to do was to think about it and he knew he was a legend. He was the great Mayo man, the great Derry man. He was the great Dubliner, champion of the Northside, King of the Blaskets. He was Medici to Irish artists. He was the courageous yachtsman, the knowledgeable racehorse owner, the benevolent local squire who throws open his Gandon-designed mansion to worthy causes. The pensioners' friend, the man who saw off more adversaries than James Bond. The elder statesman, he even outlasted Thatcher.
He was the cat with nine lives but how did it end up here in the Castle, which he had restored, which he had cultivated carefully as the scene to one of his greatest achievements, when he carried the mantle as President of Europe?
Where was Lenihan now? Had he really dumped Lieutenant No Problem from the Cabinet?. Maybe he needed this dealt with on the quiet. Where was Doherty? He would sort it out. But then Doherty had sorted him out in the end, hadn't he? Ah well, everyone has a bad game now and then. There was a time when he'd only have to shout into the next room for Mara and he would be there ready for yet another backs to the wall shoot out. Who needed a Butch and Sundance when he and Mara could saddle up?
But even Mara has new masters now. The Boss, he realised, was going to have to go it alone, but who cares, he knew that he was worth ten of any of them. He would be remembered. Wouldn't he? Nobody could forget the Boss. He knew he was living history. Wasn't he?
He cast his mind back. He knew for sure that he had a list of achievements that dwarfed anything the rest of them did, even Mr Fitzer Two Shoes, with his Anglo Irish this and his Irish Times that. He didn't need any opinion columns to tell the people his thoughts. He taught the people to think, for God's sake.