The Taoiseach's end-of-year accounts show the Northern Ireland deal and a triumphant election on the credit side, while the debit side includes tribunal bluster and an unpopular pay rise, writes Miriam Lord
For Bertie Ahern, the last year has been a tale of two taoisigh. He has enjoyed and endured 12 months of contrasting fortunes. The highs have been historic, but the lows have been personally calamitous. As 2007 draws to a close, will Bertie look back on it and take heart from his great achievements? Or will he look back and wonder where it all went wrong, and why the hell he let it happen in the first place? On the lengthy balance sheet of his public service, he must surely have more than enough in the credit column to cancel out recent returns on the debit side. Those credits stood to him for most of the year, and were particularly useful during the election, as further embarrassing details came to light about how he accepted money from private interests for personal use when he was minister for finance.
But trousering money in this manner, argued many, is a democratic debit that can never be squared.
This was always Bertie's stated bottom line too, until his own financial secrets came out. Now he pleads extenuating circumstances. Unfortunately for him, a very damaging week in September at the Mahon tribunal saw him twist those circumstances to suit every little change in the evidence.
It looked like torture for Bertie Ahern, as he tried to talk himself out of trouble. But this wasn't Dáil Éireann. There was no Ceann Comhairle to call time after a few minutes. He had to account for his actions, something he found very difficult to do. Bertie's explanations about dig-outs and whip-arounds and foreign currency lodgements, not to mention a risible house-purchase arrangement, strained credulity.
Save for the true believers, few believed his stories. Bertie knows this, and his mood has altered since. His standing among the people is of paramount importance to him. His credibility is his currency.
The highlights of his year came in the first six months of 2007, although even then, awkward questions about his personal finances provided ominous background music.
But those highlights were mightily impressive; perfect adornments for the CV of an Irish statesman considering a post-government move to some suitably prestigious international post. The choreography came together in Northern Ireland with the setting up of a power-sharing executive in Stormont. He welcomed Ian Paisley to Dublin, the new reality framed in a famous handshake. The two men met again at the site of the Battle of the Boyne - who would have believed it? Then Bertie addressed the joint houses of parliament in Westminster. A rare honour. It was a proud day for him, and Ireland. There was a sense, as he stood shoulder to shoulder with his British counterpart Tony Blair, of a fine career coming to a happy and dignified finish. But Taoiseach Ahern wasn't ready to go yet. He was determined to lead Fianna Fáil to another election victory and his third successive term in power.
But an old problem resurfaced in the run-up. It overshadowed Bertie's game plan and turned the first half of his campaign into a disaster. The Mahon tribunal, always bubbling away under the surface, returned. It threw up more disturbing questions and threatened the foundations of the carefully constructed edifice that is Bertie: ordinary man of the people, open and affable, with simple tastes, an uncomplicated life and never any interest in personal gain.
He won that election brilliantly, against the odds. Another highlight. He should have been ecstatic, but his initial reaction was a graceless attack on the media. Since then, the Taoiseach's mood has been snappy and defensive. He survived a no-confidence vote where he was forced to listen to opposition jibes about the veracity of his tribunal evidence and calls for his resignation.
Meanwhile, Bertie Ahern's last major public outing of 2007 was another gruelling and confrontational appearance in the Mahon witness box. An unwelcome stop off during what was meant to be a glittering lap of honour before he hands over the leadership. That hasn't happened. It's hard not to feel sympathy for Bertie as his year ends.
Here's how 2007 unfolded:
JANUARY
The Taoiseach returns from Saudi Arabia for the big launch of the National Development Plan in Dublin Castle. "A genuine milestone for Ireland," says Bertie, adding his administration is as serious about this plan as they are about the previous three. The government promises that all kinds of wonderful projects are due to be rolled out, but omits to mention that chief among them is its general election campaign. Bertie is on top form. "It is no exaggeration to assert that we are at a point in our national history where we have never been able to see more clearly the possibility of our full potential. And we should aim to settle for nothing less." Work that out for yourself. He gets worse as the year wears on.
FEBRUARY
A quiet month. Ireland's rugby team beat England in Croke Park, on a wonderful night that will live forever in the memory. Even then, Bertie can't escape the tribunal. As he kisses President McAleese twice, the photographers are more interested in the man beside him - his dig-out pal, Paddy the Plasterer.
In the Dáil, Bertie decides to reveal all about signing those blank cheques for Charlie Haughey. Cheesed off by the Moriarty tribunal's inquiries, he drawls: "Sign blank cheques? Aw, I did. Signed loads, for all kinds of organisations and clubs. For years. Gave it up now. Cost the State a fortune to find me guilty, but anyway . . . ". Bertie's world-weary head-shaking and shoulder-shrugging will continue all year. Infamy, infamy, they all have it in for him.
MARCH
He goes to Washington early to give the traditional bowl of salad to George Bush and is back in Dublin for the election-year St Patrick's Day parade. With an election around the corner, the right sort of publicity is needed. Who better than his old pal, Tony Blair, to help out? The two men feature in an edition of a BBC cookery competition, where contestants cook for them at Downing Street.
Tony Blair declares that venison can be a very difficult dish to get right. "It can be tough," he remarks to the Taoiseach. "Sometimes it can be very tough," agrees Bertie, before leaning in to his host to whisper: "There's a trick about not making venison tough. It should be marinated in a sauce until you've got it tender. It's a trick. You should try it." Blair is speechless. So Bertie softens the blow. "I wouldn't be about to do the pastry. I can't do pastry." Meanwhile, the choreography is coming together in Northern Ireland. Agreement is reached on the formation of a power-sharing executive in May. Good news for the Taoiseach.
APRIL
April begins brilliantly for Bertie, but ends badly. We will all remember that sunny morning at Farmleigh House, when Ian Paisley is greeted at the door by Bertie Ahern, like they have been lifelong friends. "Good morning! I have to shake this man's hand. Give him a grip!" beams Big Ian. The smiles, and that symbolic handshake, mark an end to generations of suspicion, violence and heartbreak in Ireland. The image of Paisley happily strolling along in Dublin with the Taoiseach is one for the history books. Right in time for the general election, too.
Then along come Rocco and Jay, a little prematurely, but already displaying their grandad's knack for political timing. Lovely twins for grandaddy Bertie - a lucky general, or what? Speculation mounts over when he will announce the election date. But he still won't name the day.
He is due to give evidence to the Mahon tribunal on Monday, April 30th. On the day before, the Sunday papers print details of large cash lodgements, possibly in foreign currency, and a briefcase full of cash handed to him in his office when he was minister for finance. Bertie rushes to Áras an Uachtaráin on Sunday at an astonishing seven in the morning. He catches the President before she leaves for the US and asks her to dissolve the Dáil. Then, as rival parties swing into action, he returns to a rather subdued FF election headquarters. He launches the campaign by reading through a nondescript speech and then hightails it from the platform without taking questions.
MAY
A terrible campaign start for Bertie. Everywhere he goes, there are questions about his finances. He tries to avoid them, including one instance where he refuses to say anything at all, meeting a question with silence. Finally, he gives a short explanation, but this raises more questions. Journalist Vincent Browne tackles him about his money at a chaotic manifesto launch in the Mansion House. As supporters and party workers look on in horror, Browne demands to know why voters should wait until after the election for answers.
Bertie's fighting spirit returns. It was his money and he could spend it however he liked. The faithful cheer, but the backroom boys look rattled.
Finally, Bertie's senior ministers mount a sterling defence of their leader. They say he was the victim of a malicious campaign of orchestrated leaks. Another statement is issued. The campaign focus shifts to actual election issues.
In the middle of it all, Bertie takes time out to take his new best friend, Ian Paisley, to visit the site of the Battle of the Boyne. It is a marvellous occasion, as the two men walk the ancient field together. Another triumph for Bertie.
Can it get better? It can. In the week before polling day, he addresses a meeting of the joint houses of parliament in Westminster. It is a well-deserved honour for Taoiseach Ahern. But after the pomp and ceremony, he is back in Dublin Central that same evening, knocking on doors.
In the final run-in, Bertie seems to gain in confidence. He stresses the importance of maintaining a steady economy. He sparkles on the hustings. The final opinion poll shows a startling reversal, with Fianna Fáil back in the driving seat. On May 24th, the country votes Bertie Ahern - the lovable aul' devil they know - back into power.
He isn't happy with the media. "If you say 'we're going to win', you're an arrogant bunch. If you come out less certain, you're terrorised." He also feels certain, unnamed people are out to get him.
JUNE
Back in power, but Bertie's form doesn't improve. He stays in the background during coalition negotiations, although the final outcome bears all the hallmarks of his tactical brilliance. Fianna Fáil forge an alliance with the last remnants of the PDs - outsourcing the hot-potato health portfolio to Mary Harney. An assortment of Independents are brought onside, while the Green Party is successfully wooed. Grianna Fáil - the Soldiers of Broccoli - can now be blamed over increased motor tax and waste-management issues. After he introduces his new parliamentary party, Bertie withdraws to Leinster House and leaves his new Tánaiste, Brian Cowen, doing the talking. In a radio interview, he anoints Brian as his "obvious successor".
JULY
This should have been a handy run into the summer break for the Taoiseach. But there is one blot on the landscape. The Mahon tribunal has pencilled in possible dates for an appearance at the end of the month. Meanwhile, Bertie's lawyers argue unsuccessfully in Dublin Castle against the tribunal inquiring further into his finances. Evidence of his unorthodox approach to his personal finances begins to emerge from witnesses. But proceedings go more slowly than expected, and his appearance is put back to September. Bertie is reported to be very annoyed to have been deprived of the chance to clear the air.
AUGUST
Bertie again expresses his frustration at the postponement of his tribunal appearance. He lets it be known that he cancelled a holiday in Portugal with twins Rocco and Jay to meet his appointment at the castle. He doesn't lose contact with his friends in the newspapers while on holiday in Kerry. He pours his heart out about his marriage break-up and how the aftermath led his friends to help him out with a few bob.
He speaks of his fear that people are still out to get him. "Sometimes I'd be concerned that when I am out for a walk a lulu would jump out from the bushes and grab me."
SEPTEMBER
At long last, Bertie has his chance to tell his side of the story. By not calling him earlier, he says, the tribunal has subjected him to "torture". It wasn't fair, he grumbles. But then the tribunal turns the tables. Whose fault is it that it took so long to get him into the witness box? Why has it been so difficult to get answers to particular questions, particularly when Bertie has known the answers for at least two years? Bertie's convoluted explanations as to how he came by large amounts of cash in the early- to mid-1990s are hard to believe. His stories of how he benefitted from various whip-arounds border on the ridiculous. His forgetfulness about how he might have lodged large round figure amounts of money is highly entertaining. The saga of how he came to rent, furnish, extend and subsequently buy a house is worthy of Alice in Wonderland.
But Bertie thinks he did well. So do his ministers, who line up in staunch defence, while battling to avoid having to say whether they believe him.
There is a bruising no-confidence motion tabled against him. Fine Gael leader Enda Kenny doesn't pull his punches. "The scale may well be different from that of Mr Haughey. But scale does not alter standards."
It is a difficult encounter for the Taoiseach. But his troops rally. "I believe political loyalty is a virtue," says Brian Cowen, as he supports his Taoiseach. But he doesn't say he believes him.
OCTOBER
A settling-down, of sorts. The health service is in crisis, there is still uproar over the ending of Aer Lingus flights from Shannon to Heathrow, Minister for Defence Willie O'Dea is involved in a pub altercation and there are unsubstantiated allegations about a minister taking cocaine. Bertie goes through the motions in the Dáil, but he seems preoccupied and war-weary. Still, at least he gets a nice pay rise at the end of the month. An extra €38,000 a year, bringing his annual salary to a tasty €310,000.
NOVEMBER
More bad news from the Mahon tribunal, which revisits the story of the dig-outs and how Bertie's fund-raising machine went about its business. More rows in the Dáil over the health service. Polls show a dramatic drop in support for Fianna Fáil since the election. The majority of people don't believe the Taoiseach's tribunal evidence and Brian Cowen has a higher popularity rating than Bertie.
There is public outcry over his huge pay increase. But Bertie, in stubborn mode, defends it to the hilt. He insists he's worth his salary, and whinges about not having the services of a butler, or access to holiday homes, yachts and private jets, like his counterparts in Europe. This does not go down well. Bertie doesn't seem to care, as he snaps and growls his way though Dáil business.
DECEMBER
The weight of public opinion and Cabinet disquiet force the Taoiseach to defer the big pay increase. It's been a rare lapse of judgement from Bertie, normally so sure-footed where reading the public mood is concerned. But, as the sparks flying at the Mahon tribunal in the week before Christmas show, he has other matters on his mind now.