THE Dáil was treated to a rare outburst of emotion last Wednesday.
Unlike the odd performance that rises into high dudgeon, this came from the
heart.
It
was issued by Independent TD, Mick Wallace — he of the heavy-metal hair,
football shirts and dodgy taxation history. None of which should take from a
heart-felt observation of his experiences since entering politics at the last
election.
Wallace
was addressing beleaguered Minister for Justice Alan Shatter — he of the nice
suits, cultured accent, and boot-boy tendency to use his privileged position to
attack the character of others. Those whom Shatter has targeted from on high
include Wallace, on foot of confidential information gleaned from the gardaí;
and whistleblower cop Maurice McCabe, whose reputation was trashed by Shatter
under privilege.
His
voice rising in anger, Wallace looked down from his perch on the opposition
benches as he addressed the smug presence in the ministerial chair. “Minister,
people have a right to be cynical about politics,” he said. “They’re right to
be cynical about politicians. This place is a joke. We play games in here.
Well, ye know what? Sometimes these games lead to the unfair distribution of
justice, or no justice being distributed. And what do we see so often, when bad
things raise their heads? We see our police force circle the wagons, we see our
politicians circle the wagons... is there any appetite for doing things any
different in this House?”
Let’s
look at one of those games the member from Wexford referenced. Much has been
written about the recent scandal involving Shatter, McCabe, and the wider garda
management. But where does the issue feature in the body politic? Let’s see how
things have been handled by two figures on opposite sides of the House: Charlie
Flanagan has been the government’s chief spear-carrier in the media. He has
repeatedly backed Shatter’s statement, under Dáil privilege, that McCabe didn’t
co-operate with an internal garda inquiry into abuse of penalty points.
Shatter’s position portrays McCabe as a mischief-maker, to put it at its most
benign.
McCabe
was never contacted by the inquiry, and was dismayed when the report was
completed without reference to him. But Shatter has said his piece, and he’s
not one for turning. Hence, the party spear-carriers are obliged to defend him.
On Sunday last, Charlie featured on RTÉ Radio One’s The Marian Finucane Show. A
conversation developed around Shatter’s slur on McCabe’s character. Charlie
insisted on repeating that “Sergeant McCabe didn’t co-operate, that’s a fact”.
There was no backing-down.
Off-air,
this column understands McCabe rang the programme to complain. He informed
personnel at the radio station that Flanagan was repeating the slur that he had
delivered on Morning Ireland the previous week. On that occasion, McCabe had
rung Flanagan to complain. The two men had known each other since 2008, when
McCabe contacted Flanagan about his troubles, and Flanagan made a
representation on his behalf.
On
air, Marian asked Charlie: “Did you speak to him (McCabe) this week?”
“No,
I spoke to him some years ago,” Charlie replied.
He
said that McCabe had brought allegations to him, none of which were as serious
as the ones currently in the media.
“When
you say some time ago?” Marian probed.
“2008,”
Charlie replied. “I found him to be an honourable and decent man, and I’m sure
he still is.”
Then,
they went to a break. After it, Marian began: “I think I misunderstood you
there, Charlie Flanagan, about meeting Maurice McCabe this week.”
Charlie
replied: “No, I didn’t meet him this week. I had a brief telephone conversation
with him this week.”
On
the third attempt, Charlie finally acknowledged contact with McCabe in recent
days. It was as if it would be toxic for a member of a government party to
admit to recent contact with a garda whistleblower.
(Flanagan
confirmed to this column both his interaction with McCabe in 2008 to 2009 and
the telephone conversation last week).
Flanagan
isn’t duplicitous. He’s just a politician playing the game. When in opposition,
in 2008, he assisted a “decent and honourable” man who was up against the
system. Now that his party is in government, his prerogative is to trot out the
party-line, to defend his minister, even if that minister was intent on
trashing the reputation of “a decent and honourable man”.
On
the other side of the House, the leader of the opposition, Micheál Martin, has
been excellent in the current controversy. He met with McCabe a fortnight ago
and assessed both the whistleblower’s character and the allegations that McCabe
made. He brought the issue to the floor of the House, which ultimately set in
train events that are now marching towards a full commission of inquiry.
Martin
has been statesman-like in the Dáil, and has performed as a tribune of the
people in dragging this issue out into the open, from the dark corners where it
has festered for years.
By
any standards, his efforts have been in the best tradition of politics.
Not
that his motives are entirely pure. At least part of his focus is to land a
blow on the Government, and that is the stuff of politics. But, in doing so, he
can take comfort in his assault from the moral high ground.
Does
all this positive stuff cast his character in a bright shining light, a
fearless politician wielding the sword of truth, the shield of justice?
Not
quite.
To
a far greater extent, it reflects nothing more than his status as an opposition
politician.
Does
anybody believe that Martin would have conducted himself differently than
Shatter if the Cork politician occupied the Justice portfolio? Sure, Martin
wouldn’t have displayed Shatter’s insufferable hubris. But in terms of general
approach, it’s difficult to believe that he would have done anything
differently, that his relationship with the garda commissioner would be any
different, that his attitude to the whistleblower would be any different than
Shatter’s has been.
One
only has to look back to Martin’s role as a Cabinet minister, when Bertie
Ahern’s threadbare yarns of whip-arounds and dig-outs were being ripped apart
at the Planning Tribunal.
Martin,
along with his colleagues, was steadfast in declaring that he believed his
leader’s tall tales. It was what was expected of him. The retention of power,
rather than acceptance of the truth, was what informed attitudes to Ahern’s
yarns from his Cabinet colleagues.
Wallace
has a point when he references the games that are played in politics in this
country.
Ideology
forms little role in the choice of governments. There is precious little
independent thought displayed in the main parties:
*
Get into power, tweak things for a little improvement or political credit, but
don’t rock any boats that might generate controversy, or impact on the grip of
power.
*
Defend the indefensible.
*
Look the other way, if power is being used in a discomfiting manner.
*
Above all, play the game.
By Michael Clifford
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