INSIDE POLITICS:The notion that high standards in public life are something out of the ordinary is dangerous for our democracy
A RECURRING theme in the tributes to two honourable men who died in the past week, Patrick Hillery and Michael Mills, was that they represented the highest standards in public life and the media. The careers of both men, and the stands they took in very difficult situations, are a testament to their integrity.
However, an underlying current in the commentary has been the assumption that the standards they epitomised no longer exist and are, in some way, outdated. This view is dangerous for the health of our democracy because it implies an acceptance of the notion that high standards are something out of the ordinary, which cannot be expected to apply to the conditions of modern life.
It seems that the evidence given at tribunals over the past decade has eroded basic notions of what is acceptable. The disclosure that a string of senior political figures accepted large sums of money from rich people for their own private ends has prompted a wide acceptance that such behaviour is a normal part of public life.
Fiona O'Malley challenged that view in her tribute to Dr Hillery in the Seanad. "We should set ourselves those standards and the public service should not be any different, nor our standards and our dedication to our country any different, from the role model that Dr Hillery has left," she said.
The same is true of the media. The coarse British tabloid approach to the coverage of public life has permeated sections of the media. The standards of honesty and integrity personified by Mills are no longer regarded as the norm, but as something exceptional from another age.
Politicians have attempted to deal with the issue by passing a range of ethics legislation and establishing the Standards in Public Office Commission. The media has more recently set about putting its house in order through the establishment of a Press Council and a Press Ombudsman.
However, these measures will succeed only if there is a general acceptance of basic ethical standards of behaviour. Rules and regulations on their own will not make politicians and journalists behave better if they do not have an instinctive grasp from the beginning about what is acceptable and what is not.
If it is accepted as normal that politicians can take money from rich people for their personal use or that journalists can distort the facts at will or intrude into the private lives of public figures then all the ethical legislation or institutional structures in the world will not stop them behaving that way.
Of course politicians and journalists, like everybody else, will not always live up to the highest standards. Human nature and the pressures of the job will inevitably lead to corners being cut. What is important, though, is that they aim for the highest standards and are held accountable to them, even if they do not always meet them. High standards should be expected rather than being regarded as exceptional.
The acceptance of low standards in high places will inevitably corrupt the entire political system. The example of what happened under Charles Haughey is a salutary moral tale. The standards he epitomised infected a significant section of his party and government. The outrageous behaviour of people like Liam Lawlor followed as night follows day. More recently, politicians who would not dream of doing anything wrong themselves have defended improper behaviour out of party loyalty or, even more worryingly, because they could not even see the problem. If honest politicians can see nothing wrong with dishonesty the outlook for our democracy is grim.
One of the more corrosive features of the Haughey era was that cynical, self-serving and self-enriching behaviour was not only tolerated but came to be admired in sections of the political and media world, while decent, upright politicians were sneered at for their stuffiness.
The great Victorian writer Anthony Trollope could have been describing Ireland in recent decades when he wrote: "A certain class of dishonesty, dishonesty magnificent in its proportions and climbing into high places, has become at the same time so rampant and so splendid that there seems to be reason for fearing that men and women will be taught to feel that dishonesty, if it can become splendid will cease to be abominable. If dishonesty can live in a gorgeous palace, with pictures on all its walls and gems in all its cupboards , with marble and ivory in all its corners, and can give Apician dinners and get into Parliament and deal in millions, then dishonesty is not disgraceful and the man dishonest after such a fashion is not a low scoundrel."
Patrick Hillery was the antithesis of the politician described by Trollope. While he engaged in the hurly-burly of politics with the best of them at times, and certainly made some mistakes along the way, he never lost sight of his duty to the people who elected him and his duty to his country. That involved considerable self-sacrifice on his part but he made it uncomplainingly.
Michael Mills behaved similarly in the world of journalism. He never lost his sense of righteous indignation and his duty to hold politicians and the establishment to account. He was not seduced by the blandishments of the powerful nor did he fall prey to the pervasive world-weary cynicism that led others to acquiesce in low standards. Like the former president he, too, was motivated by a sense of public duty. Fiona O'Malley is right. The standards followed by both men are the standards that should be expected from their successors in politics and journalism today.