Air is still very thin on the high moral ground

Writing here recently, I remarked that the air was thin on the crowded moral high ground about Dail Eireann

Writing here recently, I remarked that the air was thin on the crowded moral high ground about Dail Eireann. A fortnight later one can almost hear the last breathless wheezes of that once-smug huddle, who still struggle to remain there.

At the centre of this change of fortune has been the Fine Gael parliamentary party. What a strange and eventful time it has been for them. Their leader with his gusty, martial style has, like a latter-day Duke of York, marched his men to the moral heights, then marched them down again.

It all began on the very first day of his election as party leader. A bold assertion was that day made that in future Fine Gael would accept no more corporate donations. It was a clever move, a line drawn in the sand, a Rubicon crossed; he had set himself at once apart from his predecessor. He was in the vanguard of change.

A swing to the left was promptly effected, and the £200,000 Celtic Snail was squashed unceremoniously. Now, with the addition of a ban on all corporate donations, the party's sights were resolutely trained upon coalition bed-fellowship with Labour. "Fine Gael must restore trust in politics," it proclaimed confidently.

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Then came the first real test: the announcement of the new front bench and the ensuing hirings and firings. Nothing stirs up resentment more than the political ego slighted, and nothing slights these egos more than the cabinet or frontbench reshuffle (nothing new to Fianna Fail).

People will be left out, factions will be formed and tomorrow's feuds will be fomented. This is especially the case when the reshuffle is conducted on the open wounds of a leadership heave (again, my party should know).

Commendably however, the party pulled through, with minimal spillage of vitriol, with maximum smiles for the camera.

So far so good.

Following closely in the wake of the reshuffle came the uneasiness about the estimable Jim Mitchell's private use of opinion polls as part of his campaign for the Fine Gael leadership.

Had Mr Mitchell complied with the statutory ethical obligations as he is required to under the 1997 Electoral Act? Were the unknown persons who commissioned the poll giving Mr Mitchell a gift or benefit under the Act? Fianna Fail TD Sean Fleming put these very questions to the Public Offices Commission, and we await their opinion.

In the meantime, the affair has undoubtedly affected Fine Gael.

Our congenial Minister for Justice, John O'Donoghue, reflected the feeling around the House "that it is the first time in the history of the State that the government brought down the opposition". Original or not, it was apt and reflected the discomfort of the main Opposition party.

In a nutshell, to repeat my own views on donations - corporate or individual - it is in the hands, literally, of the recipient. The declaration must be open and transparent. If deputies are silly enough to fail to declare their interests, they should not be in the House.

Democracy/politics is worth protecting, and after the next election the air will be cleared with the added influx of young men and women. Politics will be given a new beginning, and some respect for the profession may be restored.

THE dumping on John Bruton was hard to take. He has had a bad time from some of his comrades/colleagues since leaving high office. He really does deserve better, even on the grounds of political loyalty alone. It poses the question: where stands this loyalty in this wretched new era of political correctness? Compassion was consigned to the history books long ago.

Add the name of the late David Austin, the Jefferson Smurfit executive, under the heading of forgotten compassion. His family must feel badly about his recent treatment. I met him a number of times, and those who knew him well tell me he was a good and decent man and a loyal friend. Rare enough qualities in these strained political times.

It all started with the revelation that Fine Gael had received a $50,000 donation from a major shareholder in the Esat Digifone consortium around the time the Fine Gael-led coalition government granted the State's second mobile phone licence to that very consortium.

In an extraordinary move, the mobile-phone licence was awarded to Esat for a mere £15 million. To understand how relatively low that price is we should bear in mind that on the basis of that licence the ESAT chairman, within five years, was able to sell his share of the company for £221 million.

Fine Gael took the decision not to reveal details of the saga over the donation to the Moriarty tribunal, taking refuge behind legal advice when the clear imperative was to turn the matter over to the tribunal.

A week into Michael Noonan's leadership, in the middle of February, this matter was raised by the Sunday Tribune in a front-page article which stated that Fine Gael "refused to discuss the matter when asked specific questions". Was Michael Noonan aware of this article? Did no one bring it to his attention? Does his assertion that "Fine Gael must restore trust in politics" contain the caveat "but not when it makes us look bad"?

As was to be expected, the whole saga has brought media focus keenly upon Fine Gael's funding record. Again John O'Donoghue reminded the Dail on Wednesday night that Fine Gael's financial records were destroyed by fire before the beef tribunal.

Vincent Browne has repeated his call for the Moriarty tribunal to examine Fine Gael's finances. He points to the fact that though the party was virtually bankrupt when it found itself in office in late 1994, within little more than a year it had cleared its debts and enjoyed a "most spectacular enrichment".

Despite the embarrassment and possible legal consequence of Fine Gael's actions, the most significant fallout of its dilemma has gone largely unnoticed. Throughout this Dail term, spurred on by the apparent threat of Fine Gael's initial confidence and now with its drip-drip of embarrassments, Fianna Fail seems to have really come alive in the Dail chamber, bar the odd blip.

As mentioned here a short time ago, the party performs best when on its toes. Dermot Ahern's day-long spat with the Opposition, in defence of his Social Welfare Bill was a joy for any parliamentarian to behold.

John O'Donoghue and Noel Dempsey have given similarly excellent performances during the week. There is a new confidence in the party which has been lacking for some time.