A separate significant voice

Despite much cynicism, and being historically perceived as a British imposition, Seanad Éireann is playing an enhanced role in Irish democracy in recent years

JOHN A MURPHY

DÁIL ÉIREANN remained a one-chamber assembly from January 21st, 1919 up to the establishment of the Irish Free State (IFS) parliament in December 1922. A Seanad had been provided for in the Government of Ireland Act, 1920, inoperative in southern Ireland, and it then formed part of the Free State constitutional set-up. A second chamber had figured in earlier Home Rule bills, so it was always seen as a British imposition, a house of lordeens, so to speak.

That was enough to damn it in the eyes of republican politicians, even before it conflicted with the Dáil. In February 1928, Eamon de Valera spoke about ending the “costly” Seanad which served no “useful function”.

Seán Lemass was characteristically more forthright: “This bulwark of imperialism should be abolished by the people’s representatives on the first available opportunity.”

If there had to be a Seanad, it would be totally subordinate to the Dáil – “held tight in the grip of this body and unable to wriggle unless this body so permits it”.

Still, more moderate views prevailed for a time and the IFS Seanad was a well-intentioned, even a generous constitutional experiment. Shortly before his death, Arthur Griffith had consulted with southern unionists (“part and parcel of the nation”, according to Kevin O’Higgins) about their representation in the new Seanad, and its possible composition and powers.

A fact of Irish parliamentary life became evident at this early stage which is still true today – that the Dáil will never relinquish to the second house any legislative powers which might diminish its own pre-eminence as the house of representatives.

Of the 60 members (unchanged today) of the first Seanad, half were elected by the Dáil and half were nominated by the President of the Executive Council (ie head of government, WT Cosgrave) “in a manner calculated to represent minorities or interests not adequately represented in the Dáil”. This meant not only Protestant or unionist representatives, but people of specialist knowledge and experience or with a record of public service. Today, WB Yeats would be the first name to be associated in the public memory with the IFS Seanad because of his 1925 “no petty people” speech on the government’s anti-divorce proposals. (In fact, this was an overrated and arrogant contribution: the “no petty people” were, historically, a privileged and entrenched ascendancy.)

The Seanad was graced by other luminaries, including Oliver St John Gogarty, Alice Stopford Green and “constructive” unionists like co-op pioneer Sir Horace Plunkett and land conciliator, the Earl of Dunraven. Election procedures underwent several cumbersome changes, including a short-lived and unsuccessful experiment involving a popular electorate over the age of 30. Yet, within its limits, the chamber achieved an impressive record of initiating and amending legislation. According to Donal O’Sullivan, former clerk of the Seanad, “in personnel, it was probably the equal of any second chamber then existing” and it afforded proof “that nationalists and unionists could work harmoniously together in parliament”.

Unfortunately, its persistent obstruction of major legislation (Removal of Oath bill, Wearing of Uniform bill) introduced by a strong popular government, could only have one outcome. De Valera’s abolition of the Seanad in 1936 was a classic illustration of the thesis of the Abbé Sieyès (1748-1836), a first-hand creator and survivor of constitutional changes. If a second chamber clashes with the first house, it is pernicious: if it duplicates the work, it is superfluous. In modern times, Denmark got rid of its Senate for the first reason and New Zealand for the second.

SEANAD ÉIREANN

De Valera regarded a second house as an impediment to the legislative process, using the homely sartorial analogies of hobble skirts and platform shoes. Why then did he bring back a Seanad in his new constitution (1937), especially given his unpleasant experiences with its predecessor? Despite his personal inclinations, he was prepared to “give way to the people who are anxious for it”. The background here was the fashionable Catholic social teaching on vocational organisation, though the idea of representing cultural and business interests in parliament had been reflected in the IFS Seanad as well.

Seanad Éireann would now consist of 43 members elected on a vocational basis from five panels of candidates; three representatives each from the National University of Ireland (NUI) and Trinity College Dublin (TCD) elected by their respective graduates; and 11 nominees of the taoiseach.

The revisionary and delaying powers of the new Seanad were far weaker than those of its predecessor. As an integral part of the legislative process, it was subject to government control and party politicisation from the outset, so that its intended vocational role was diminished, and indeed vitiated.

Already by 1954 the Seanad was being stringently criticised in this respect by political scientist, Basil Chubb. Certainly, a level of vocational expertise has always been in evidence (irrespective of party affiliation), particularly at committee stages of bills, and it is in this scrutinising role that the House has given its best service. But, it may well be objected, a properly functioning Dáil would make such service redundant.

Party control of the 43 “panel” senators is ensured by the restricted electorate – deputies, senators and borough councillors. Electors and elected alike are card-carrying party members. The smallness of the electorate facilitates the politics of vote-trading and promises, to say the least.

Meanwhile, the hopeful “provision” in the Constitution (Article 19) “for the direct election” by vocational groups of members to the Seanad (thus circumventing the party machines), remains a dead letter after 70 years.

It is hard to gainsay the criticism that, for most senators, the House is a grooming stable for the Dáil, or a cushy retirement home, or a continuity power base where temporarily displaced deputies retain their Oireachtas privileges while relaunching their Dáil careers. The Seanad itself sees nothing incongruous in enthusiastically wishing these birds of passage well as they fly to happier climes. Historically, only a minority of party politicians have dedicated themselves to an exclusively Seanad career.

The university senators, kicked upstairs from the Dáil by the 1937 constitution, have deservedly won acclaim over the decades because of the excellence of their contributions.

Yet their presence is anomalous in more ways than one. The relatively generous TCD representation of a smaller graduate body is related to a long-outdated perception of Trinity as still having a distinctive ethos, vaguely Protestantish and post-unionist.

NUI and TCD graduates combined represent only half of all Irish graduates: the remaining third-level institutions remain “disenfranchised”, though a constitutional provision to accommodate them was enacted a long time ago in 1979 (Art. 18.4.2).

More fundamentally, as the All-Party Oireachtas Committee on the Constitution recommended in 2002, “the possession of a given qualification should not entitle some citizens to a privileged role in the selection of members of our core democratic institutions”.

In recent decades, the Seanad’s role has been enhanced through its role in the Oireachtas committee system, more frequent initiation of legislation in the House and greater recognition of its expertise on cultural issues. Yet senators complain that governments often treat the House with contempt, cynically using it as a rubber stamp and applying the guillotine to legislation.

Meanwhile, poor media coverage means that a disenchanted public, uninformed about the Seanad’s work, complains of its irrelevance and, increasingly, of its expense. Cynicism was further compounded in the late 1980s when the Progressive Democrats (RIP) called for the abolition of the Seanad (which would require the disembowelling of the Constitution) while grabbing seats there with alacrity.

Calling for Seanad reform is an intermittent national pastime, not to be taken too seriously. The House itself periodically indulges in this futile navel-gazing. Various Oireachtas committees have specified how reform might be undertaken. But inertia, a low priority order, and vested interests have prevailed without much struggle. Same-day general election voting in Dáil and Seanad would be one effective reform (and constitutionally feasible, I would submit) but Seanad Éireann is too valuable a realm of patronage (not simply the Taoiseach’s 11, but the entire panel area) for the party bosses to relinquish, as one would-be reforming leader ruefully discovered long ago.

John A Murphy was an Independent Member of Seanad Éireann, representing the NUI constituency, 1977-’83, 1987-’92