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.
![[An Phoblacht]](http://republican-news.org/graphics/title_gifs/aprn.gif)