Low lying in high places
It would be tempting to see the fate of the liar Jonathan Aitken
as a metaphor for Britain's Conservatives. He is, after all, just
like the Tory party; well brought up, smug, rich, addicted to
power, cynical to an absolute, and a moral vacuum. He too is now
vanquished, disgraced and, with any luck, consigned to the
dustbin of history.
But in his attitudes and behaviour, Aitken was merely mimicking
many successful politicians around him; men and women who
believe, correctly for the most part, that the rules simply do
not apply to them.
Much as our own politicians would wish us to believe it, this
pattern of moral bankruptcy is not unique to Britain. There are
several TDs who could learn from a sober scrutiny of the Aitken
tale, two in particular were recently re-elected.
These are people who either do not know or do not care to know
the difference between truth and falsehood, and who, spurred on
by greed and arrogance, proved willing to do or say anything that
served their own interests.
Perhaps it is more than coincidence that both are adulterers, and
both have the distinction of not only betraying their spouses,
but also of cheating on their adulterous partners!
Because the libel laws in the South are even more repressive than
in Britain, this column is not able to name either. But readers
can ask themselves the following question: Which Irish public
figures told a series of lies, each one more ludicrous than the
last, to cover up an uncomfortable fact?
For knowledge of Aitken's uncomfortable fact - that he was
compromised by his relationship with the Saudi royal family and
willing to turn his family into perjurers to protect himself - we
have The Guardian newspaper and World in Action (UTV, Mondays,
8.30 p.m.) to thank.
This week, after the exposure of the former Chief Secretary to
the Treasury, World in Action was up for a spot of gloating, and
given the huge sums that Granada Television could have lost in
court, who could blame the programme?
It began with the famous quote from Aitken, one that we should
all remember the next time we hear a politician attempting to
take the high moral ground against a news organisation:
``If it now falls to me to start a fight to cut out the cancer of
bent and twisted journalism in this country with the simple sword
of truth and the trusty shield of traditional British fair play,
so be it.''
In 1995, World in Action `doorstepped' Aitken after he repeatedly
declined an interview. As he ran for his ministerial car, the
programme makers asked him about his links to the Saudi royal
family.
His main contact with the Saudis was Prince Mohammed, a
fabulously wealthy playboy, and a favourite son of King Fahd.
Aitken was so anxious to get his tongue into the honeypot of
Saudi loot that he was willing to do almost anything for the
prince. He purchased shares and hid their ownership from the
authorities, he bought property and cars, he became involved in
shady arms deals.
At one stage, he tried to procure prostitutes for a group of
Saudi businessmen who were ``bored'' in England.
One man who knew Aitken explained: ``He doesn't follow the normal
behaviour of people like you or I. He thinks he's above such
things, he can do anything, he can get away with anything, he can
say anything and he can pretend it's the truth. But I'm not sure
he even knows what the truth is. Truth and fantasy are all
interwoven with each other.''
In December 1993, Aitken stayed in the Ritz hotel in Paris, and,
in breach of House of Commons rules, allowed Prince Mohammed to
pay his bill. He later lied, claiming that his wife had stayed
there too, and that she had settled the account. He persuaded his
wife and his daughter to back up this story, and was willing to
have them perjure themselves to this end.
Unfortunately for him, credit card receipts and airline tickets
proved that Mrs Aitken and her daughter were in Switzerland, not
Paris, at the time. Caught, he dropped the case. This week
Scotland Yard said it was considering bringing charges of perjury
against him.
Ending the programme, the managing editor of Granada, Ian
McBride, seemed saddened by the affair: ``What it actually showed
us was an amazing insight into the way that Jonathan Aitken and
people like him deal with legitimate enquiries.''
By Michael Kennedy