Biting the dust

Another one bites the dust

County View
John Healy

EVEN if Enoch Powell’s famous dictum that all political careers end in failure holds good, history is likely to be kinder to Bertie Ahern than his political and media critics have been over the past number of months.
It was sad for the Taoiseach himself that in the end his formidable achievements as a politician were eclipsed by the mysterious financial dealings that cast such a long shadow over his career. Unlike an infamous predecessor, he had nothing of the trappings of wealth that should have been the mark of a man through whose bank accounts flowed thousands upon thousands in unexplained payments. There were no yachts or holiday homes, no racehorses or valuable art collections, no high living or ostentatious spending. And yet, the longer it went on, the more obvious it became that things were simply not adding up.
Since his announcement on Wednesday, there has been the usual Irish headlong rush to praise him and lament his departure. Political and media foes who a week earlier were baying for his blood were the first in line as soon as the mortuary doors were open to proffer their condolences. They fell over each other to find good things to say about him and to affirm what a fine fellow he had been all along…now that he was safely out of the way.
In the end, there is no getting away from the fact that Mr Ahern was the author of his own misfortunes. The blatant inconsistencies between his versions of events and the facts being revealed by the Mahon Tribunal left no room for doubt. The telling evidence of Gráinne Carruth, a woman who in the course of two days won the sympathy of the nation, was the final nail in his coffin. After her evidence, his credibility was in tatters and it became impossible for even his most loyal allies to swallow the stories they were being told. Most ironic of all is the fact that it was the tribunal that he himself had agreed to set up that turned out to be the instrument of his downfall. It was the rock on which his ship foundered. There must have been many a day when the most cunning, the most devious of them all, sorely rued that lapse in judgment that unleashed Flood and Mahon to pry into every waking moment of his life.
The part in the drama played by what Eoghan Harris insists was a hostile media remains to be seen. Much of what was written by Mr Ahern over the years was undoubtedly intrusive and arguably malicious, with the clear intent of bringing him down. For all his affability and approachability with the press, he learned the hard lesson that normal rules of behaviour cease to apply in the jungle world of media.
The business of newspapers is to sell newspapers, pure and simple, and if that means having to walk over the sensibilities of people in public life, then so be it. The media would argue that there was no personal animosity towards Mr Ahern, it just happened that he was the biggest prey of all in the blood sport to which politics has been reduced.
What Mr Ahern will soon come to realise, and what he may ponder in regret, is how little impact the tribunal revelations were having on the plain people of Ireland. Whatever excitement might have been caused in the bubble world where media and politics intertwine, the vast majority had long ago lost any passion for what was being played out at Dublin Castle. Each new revelation had the staying power of a two-day wonder or the durability of last Saturday’s football results – by Monday all eyes are looking ahead to next weekend’s fixtures.
Bertie will presumably continue to make his appearances at Mahon; the tribunal itself will trundle on its merry way, with no end in sight and with the lawyers growing fat on its bountiful harvest; and his evidence will become less and less newsworthy as the months run into years. The tribunal will, at some point in the far-distant future, issue its findings and bring the proceedings to a close.
How much better off we all will be as a result of those deliberations is a moot point. But the Tribunal will be able to look back and claim that it brought to his knees a Taoiseach who was not quite able to close off all the loopholes he himself had created.

The resilient rogue
ONE of Britain’s most notable and colourful rogues, Jeffrey Archer, popped up with Marian Finucane on RTÉ radio last week, proving once again that the former top politician is as resilient as they come.
An MP at 29, former chairman of the Conservative Party, elevated to the peerage in 1992 as Lord Archer of Weston-super-Mare, his political career finally ended after a conviction for perjury and subsequent imprisonment.
In between, he became a best-selling author. It was in this incarnation that he entertained Finucane and her listeners for well over an hour with a silver-tongued charm that, on reflection, probably formed the foundation of his remarkable life. His success as a novelist, short-story writer and playwright obviously stems from the unerring ability to win people to his side by the strength of his personality.
Archer’s downfall began with what seemed at first like another stroke of good fortune for the Tory party’s golden boy. In 1986, ‘The Daily Star’ wrote a story claiming that Archer had, through an intermediary, paid £2,000 to a prostitute at London’s Victoria Station. Archer sued, and in a famous Old Bailey judgment was awarded damages of £500,000 for libel.
However, 13 years later as he prepared to run as Tory party candidate for the London mayoral election, events took a nasty turn. Two acquaintances, one of whom claimed to be owed money by Archer, came forward to say that he had fabricated an alibi in the 1987 trial and had perverted the course of justice. Following a police investigation, he was charged with perjury and, after a trial lasting three weeks, was found guilty.
He was sent to jail for four years and was forced to pay back the £500,000 damages to ‘The Daily Star’, together with legal costs of £1 million. Originally jailed in Belmarsh, he was subsequently moved to Hallesley Bay prison in Suffolk, from where he was finally released after serving half his sentence.
The most fascinating part of his RTÉ interview was when he spoke about dealing with his time in prison, his befriending of fellow prisoners whose life stories he often found too incredible to believe and the way in which the other inmates accepted him mainly thanks to his ability to write letters on their behalf.
His observations on the life prospects of his colleagues were as sad as they were accurate. Aware that many of them could neither read or write, Archer preached, harangued and persuaded them to make something of their time inside by becoming literate. Literacy, he told them, was the key to self-respect and advancement. He was greatly pleased that, by the end of his own sentence, literacy classes had become part of the prison regime.
There is an interesting parallel at the moment in Irish prisons: Literacy campaigner Ernie Sweeney has embarked on a series of talks on literacy in prisons, during which he addresses inmates directly about the importance of reading and writing. Time spent in jail mastering literacy skills, he says, is the best answer to the negativism of prison.
Perhaps because of his own, first-hand, personal experience, his message is getting a good hearing from the prisoners who come to hear him speak. And with the enthusiastic backing of the prison service, it now looks far more hopeful that, for an increasing number of inmates, the once-impossible goal of reading and writing will be within reach.

That small matter at Limoges
THERE were two major stories connected with Ryanair over the Easter weekend.
The one that got all the headlines was Michael O’Leary’s horse, Hear the Echo’s winning of the Irish Grand National at Fairyhouse at odds of 40 to one.
The other story was of the inconvenience suffered by 170 passengers when their Ryanair flight from Brussels to Limoges in France skidded off the end of the runway and ended up in a field.
For the passengers, the real bitter taste was the contrast between the feel-good account of the incident posted on the Ryanair website and the actual reality of what happened when they disembarked into the muddy field via the emergency slides on each side of the aircraft.
The flight, said Ryanair, landed on schedule and the discommoded passengers were transferred by bus to the terminal building. Not so, said the passengers, it was not at all like that. There were no buses, and the confused, scared, disorientated group had to walk their way back in driving rain and hail through a waterlogged field, soaked to the bone, to find the terminal building.
Inside the terminal building, according to first-hand reports, it was chaos. The plane had been due for an immediate turnaround. The outgoing passengers, whose luggage had been checked in, were loudly demanding the services of the aircraft which, by now, was deeply embedded in French earth far away from the end of the runway. Meanwhile, the incoming passengers, wet and cold and shivering, are waiting for some sign of their luggage and some show of remorse from their flight operator.
It was a wait in vain. Apart from the complimentary coffee provided by the airport, those stranded were left to fend for themselves. As far as Ryanair was concerned, the passengers had been delivered to their destination. It was a case of next business.

Those hazardous islands
THIS column is pleased to see that Michael Ring has raised the issue of the safety – or otherwise – of traffic islands and ‘traffic calming’ measures, so beloved of our road designers.
I share the Westport TD’s view that so-called traffic islands are a greater hazard than they are a safety measure – badly lit, badly placed and, more often than not, neglected and unkempt.
The sudden narrowing of road carriageways on the approach to towns and villages, and the channelling of fast-flowing traffic without warning into reduced lanes, is arguably a greater danger to road users than it is a help.
Michael Ring’s call for a safety audit of traffic islands and other traffic-channelling features is a timely one, particularly in the light of fatal road accidents over Easter. The results would make for interesting reading.

Churchmen and history
FR KIERAN WALDRON is to be commended on bringing to a broader public the life and times of each of the 16 archbishops who have served the Tuam archdiocese over the past 300 years.
Churchmen first, they nonetheless had to struggle with the harsh realities of the pastoral needs of their flock and the often problematic areas where matters of Church and State overlap.
‘The Archbishops of Tuam, 1700-2000’, chronicles a period that stretches back from the present day to long before Catholic Emancipation, through the life and times, struggles and personalities of the 16 prelates who guided the diocese through these years.
There were those who loomed large on the pages of history – John MacHale, John Healy, Thomas Gilmartin – as well as equally important if lesser-known churchmen. The book was launched by retired Judge John Garavan on Monday night at the Mayo Education Centre. It will retail for €18 as a hardback.