One of the first things Charles J. Haughey did on becoming Taoiseach was to go on television and warn the State that we were living beyond our means.
As the opening statements in the Moriarty tribunal indicated yesterday, nobody knew better than himself. In the very same month as his famous broadcast, January 1980, Mr Haughey was finally settling a £1 million-plus debt with Allied Irish Banks, a problem which had dogged his relationship with the institution until the situation became "critical" in mid-1979.
As the new Taoiseach applied himself to the State's problem, he had the benefit of much personal experience. Bank documents detailed by counsel for the tribunal indicated that much imagination had been applied to the AIB debt, before a £750,000 payment of thus far uncertain origin allowed it to be settled.
A possible £200,000 from a land deal in Baldoyle was mentioned at one point; an arrangement involving builder Patrick Gallagher at another. More curiously altogether, there was even the suggestion of a £400,000 payment combined with "a £10 million Middle Eastern deposit at below-market rates".
But AIB had "no enthusiasm" for this last idea, and instead eventually settled for the £750,000, writing off £1/4 million and agreeing that the remaining £110,000 would be cleared as a "matter of honour", without legal enforcements.
Honour or no, counsel continued gravely, "it seems it was never cleared".
The tribunal's morning was dominated, as much of its last year has been, by a challenge from the former Taoiseach. His counsel argued for an adjournment, saying that the tribunal could prejudice criminal proceedings. Mr Justice Moriarty heard the submission out; and speaking, as is his style, in long and elegantly-constructed sentences, he agreed that, if he were satisfied Mr Haughey's right to a fair trial was endangered by the tribunal's work, he would have no choice but to adjourn.
Mr Justice Moriarty paused before adding: "I am not so satisfied." All in Dublin Castle then settled into their seats. The judge was sitting behind one of those green-shaded Victorian desk lamps, and the colour was apt: the public hearings were going ahead.
If the tribunal was a film, it would have to be called McCracken II, and the critics would slam it for being derivative. Ben Dunne has resumed his starring role as benefactor, and the only twist so far is that he doesn't remember any of his latest apparent acts of philanthropy.
Indeed, when you add the new £1/2 million in Dunnes payments to the mysterious £750,000, the total amount being investigated by this inquiry is uncannily close to the monolithic £1.3 million of the last. The plot is expected to thicken, however.
