The country's power dynamic must change if we truly aspire to be a republic in which citizens come first, writes ELAINE BYRNE
OUR CONSTITUTION does not contain the word republic. Although the memory of the republic is rehearsed each year at the gravesides of Wolfe Tone and others, it has never been formally defined or officially acknowledged. John A Costello’s 1948 Republic of Ireland Act contains the wording: “It is hereby declared that the description of the State shall be the Republic of Ireland.” Yet the 209 words of the Act never actually clarifies what this description entails.
If a constitution represents the codified system of fundamental laws and principles that prescribes the nature, functions, and limits of a government, then it’s about time we decided what those principles were.
The preamble of the Constitution of Ireland, Bunreacht na hÉireann, is contrary to the notion of republican ideals with its emphasis on “the Name of the Most Holy Trinity, from Whom is all authority and to Whom, as our final end, all actions both of men and States must be refer.”
In a republic, power is derived from its people, not from religious doctrine. Neither does a republic distinguish between the genders of its citizens.
In contrast, the French preamble recalls the 1789 “Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen”. Article one proudly declares that “France shall be an indivisible, secular, democratic and social Republic. It shall ensure the equality of all citizens before the law, without distinction of origin, race or religion. It shall respect all beliefs.”
A coherent vision of what a reformed Ireland wishes to be should be reflected in the preamble of the Constitution. The integrity of the word republic was held hostage by those of violent intent for much of Irish independence. A new generation no longer carries the nationalistic inhibitions that held those of a previous generation captive.
If a republic is based on the premise that the supreme political power lies in a body of citizens who can then elect the people to represent them, then access to insider information by elites for their private or political benefit is contrary to that principle.
Willie O’Dea’s resignation revealed how power operates in Ireland. In his interview with Seán O’Rourke on RTÉ radio’s News at One last Thursday, O’Dea said that the basis for his remark about Maurice Quinlivan was a casual conversation with a member of An Garda Síochána: “It wasn’t given to me in an official capacity. It was just general chit-chat in a casual off-the-record conversation.”
Do members of the police force routinely provide off-the-record briefings to politicians about political opponents? The answer to the question, apparently, is none of anyone’s concern because, in the words of Ombudsman Emily O’Reilly, An Garda Síochána is “virtually unique” in Europe in that it is omitted from Freedom of Information legislation.
Why did it take the Limerick Leadernewspaper four months to contact Quinlivan's legal team after it discovered the contradiction in O'Dea's affidavit?
The impending publication of the Dublin Docklands Development Authority (DDDA) report will expose the extent of undue influence by vested interests over policy-making. The DDDA is one of more than 480 public agencies where public appointments are in the gift of the relevant minister and not subject to open competition or nomination hearings.
The former chief executive of National Irish Bank, Jim Lacey, was appointed to the DDDA in 1997. An application by the Director of Corporate Enforcement for an order disqualifying Lacey from involvement in management of any company is currently before the High Court on the basis that the bank was involved in widespread tax evasion.
Lar Bradshaw, appointed as chairman of the DDDA in 1997, wrote in the DDDA annual report in 2006: “The momentum behind the construction programme is unstoppable . . . not forgetting, of course, the acquisition of the Irish Glass Bottle site.” The €412 million purchase was primarily funded with a €293 million loan from Anglo Irish Bank and AIB. Now worth an estimated €50 million, the Glass Bottle site is a monument to corporate governance failure.
Seán FitzPatrick, chief executive of Anglo Irish Bank, was also appointed to the DDDA board. In a December 2008 article on these pages, Niamh Brennan, current chairwoman of the DDDA, wrote that “Seán FitzPatrick and Lar Bradshaw were what is called, interlocking directors – Seán FitzPatrick served on the board of the Dublin Docklands Development Authority where Lar Bradshaw was chairman and vice-versa.”
FitzPatrick has said that Bradshaw was not aware of the temporary transfer of funds to the Irish Nationwide Building Society. This had the effect of hiding FitzPatrick’s loans of up to €122 million, over an eight-year period, from shareholders. How much, if any, of this has FitzPatrick repaid to Anglo, which has since been nationalised?
Brennan, whose report is being read by the Attorney General, also noted that: “This is bad for Ireland Inc . . . no laws, no rules, no regulations can prevent greedy, self-serving behaviour by company directors.”
Perhaps not, but maybe the introduction of an independent public appointments system for State boards would go some way to removing perceptions of political patronage. The extension of freedom of information to the Garda would also inhibit perceptions of unaccountable hidden power. Insider information and undue influence have held sway for too long.
If we truly aspire to live in a republic, we must stop pretending that we live in one.