President McAleese is entitled to say what she thinks, argues Jim Duffy
It could be called the political travel sickness. Politicians go abroad, let their guard down and then it happens: they say something that causes consternation at home. All because they said the wrong thing, or worse, the right thing at the wrong moment.
By talking up the importance of the Nice Treaty during her visit to Greece this week, President McAleese finds herself accused of siding with the Yes camp - just as Mary Robinson in her day was accused of siding with the "pro-divorce" camp when she gave a factual analysis of the law to a foreign journalist during the divorce referendum.
Her critics have accused President McAleese of breaching either the spirit or the letter of the Constitution, if not both. It is a dubious claim. There is, in fact, no such ban on presidents speaking their minds publicly. The only restriction is contained in Article 13.7 of the Constitution, which states that the President cannot send a message or address to either the nation or the Oireachtas without (a) discussing it with the Council of State, and (b) having the text approved en bloc by the government.
Some people have in the past argued that this restriction applied to all presidential speeches. That was how early governments tried to stop such presidents as Douglas Hyde, Sean T. O'Kelly and Erskine Childers from speaking publicly. But it was a bluff, one which they pulled off because none of the early presidents had the legal experience necessary to challenge such claims, although O'Kelly and Childers made it clear they thought they were stopped from speaking.
In fact, the numbers of times in six decades of the office where a President did need formal permission to make an address or message to the nation or Oireachtas can be counted on the fingers of one hand. Other than that, the presidents can pretty much say what they want. If that wasn't the case, the Council of State would have to be in almost permanent session, discussing every speech!
So why then don't Irish Presidents speak out more? There are, after all, numerous examples of other heads of state doing so.
Italy's President Pertini publicly called for the amendment of the Italian constitution to enable Italy's exiled king, Umberto II, to return to die in his former kingdom. One Australian governor general, Bill Hayden, championed gay rights in a speech. Germany's Rickard von Weizacker spoke regularly about the difficulties Germany faced over reunification, while Sweden's Queen Consort has campaigned against child pornography. Most remarkably of all, Spain's King Juan Carlos revealed that he and Queen Sophia planned to vote yes in a referendum on joining Nato.
Irish Presidents don't speak out much because of the psychological influence, conscious and subconscious, of Britain's monarchy. In Britain, the Queen simply doesn't champion causes. But what they forget is the fundamental difference in the constitutional roles of the Queen and Irish President. Her Majesty is her state's "nominal chief executive", the government literally "her" government. So they both, government and queen, must sing from the same hymn sheet, with no deviations.
In Ireland, however, the President is a rare example of a "non-executive" head of state, semi-detached at best from the process of governance. In no sense is the government "her" government. In theory, the Irish President, because of that non-role in government, has a right to speak publicly to an extent almost unparalleled anywhere else.
That said, there are practical reasons why heads of state should not speak out too much. The attacks on his country's political class, some of them brutally frank and controversial, by Italy's President Cossiga helped lead the way for a national renewal. But his inability to stay quiet got on everybody's nerves. For he didn't just talk politics, but religion, sport and soap operas.
President McAleese has a right to do as she did. Whether it was politically wise is another matter. She faced the same difficulties over the Christ Church communion episode, where her actions, though well motivated, led many senior figures across the churches to wish she hadn't intervened.
Whether the Taoiseach, Bertie Ahern, has those sort of feelings now, we don't know.What we do know, or can at least presume, is that President McAleese is unlikely to intervene further in the Nice debate.
This week's controversy seems likely to have been nothing more than that tendency when abroad to be caught off guard and speak more openly than at home.
Jim Duffy is an academic researcher on the powers of the presidency.