The Dunnes payments tribunal, which finished its hearings this week, has been both an investigation into the power of business to influence politics and itself a demonstration of that power. For, even while it has been shedding light on the subversion of democracy by greed and lies, it has been a stark reminder of the extent to which Irish democracy itself is shaped by the interests of the wealthy.
The fact is that the greatest sensation in modern Irish politics, the exposure of Charles Haughey, has happened as an unintended side-effect to an internal power struggle in a private business organisation. Pleasure at the exposure of the truth must, therefore, be tempered with the rueful realisation that such crumbs of justice as we have been able to gather have fallen accidentally from the rich man's table.
As the political system comes to terms with what has happened, it has to acknowledge that the manner of disclosure has been, to coin a phrase, grotesque, unbelievable, bizarre and unprecedented. We have been treated to an especially wild version of the old parable: "For want of a nail, the shoe was lost; for want of the shoe, the horse was lost; for want of the horse, the battle was lost; for want of the battle, the kingdom was lost - all for the want of a horseshoe nail." For the want of some sense, Michael Lowry made allegations of
"cosy cartels" in the semi-state sector. That, in turn, focused attention on Mr
Lowry and his business affairs. Those business affairs were linked to Dunnes
Stores. The raising of questions about Dunnes Stores and Mr Lowry led to Mr
Haughey.
It is no disrespect to the superb work done by Mr Justice McCracken and his team to say that this chain of accidents hardly inspires confidence in the ability of our democracy to protect itself.
So let's not get carried away with the notion that the system worked. The system didn't work. The media, hamstrung by the libel laws and the culture of secrecy, got nowhere.
Those in Fianna Fail who asked questions were silenced or expelled. Those in the Dail and Seanad who asked questions got no answers. A previous tribunal of inquiry was prevented by the Supreme Court ruling on Cabinet confidentiality from getting to grips with the way decisions were made in the Haughey years.
What happened is that the citizens got a lucky break. And unhappy the land that depends on luck for basic information about its rulers. It was a one in a million chance that Mr Haughey's attempts to raise large sums of money from business people while occupying the most powerful office in the land were exposed.
And this, remember, was a man who made no attempts to hide his wealth. One did not, as Maire Geoghegan-Quinn claimed in these columns last Saturday, need to be a member of Mr Haughey's inner circle to know the kind of life he was leading.
In 1986, for instance, a hagiography called Charles J. Haughey - Kinsealy was published by an author who expressed his "particular thanks to Charles J.
Haughey, his family and the staffs at Abbeville, Leinster House, and Mount
Street". It contained detailed and rapturous descriptions of the Abbeville mansion, its "many original paintings and ancient maps", its fine horses and its
"rare books on history and the arts". Yet, but for the miraculous intervention of Saint Bernard, this open secret would have remained a closed book.
In its final submission to the tribunal, Fianna Fail gave welcome signs of understanding the need for reforms. It suggested the establishment of an independent agency with powers to investigate the finances of politicians and public officials and to prosecute those who fail to disclose payments.
It also pointed to the use of accountants and bankers in the concealment of large financial transactions and called for the creation of a statutory obligation to bring suspicions to the attention of the authorities.
These are serious indications of a willingness to change and they should be acted on as soon as the McCracken report has been presented to the Dail. But
Fianna Fail's firm purpose of amendment would be much more impressive if
"Government sources" were not already briefing journalists to the effect that there will not be time to prepare a referendum on Cabinet confidentiality to coincide with the presidential election.
THE last government, disgracefully, failed to honour its commitment to relax the absolute nature of Cabinet confidentiality. But it did do all the preparatory work for a referendum in the autumn. Everything, including the wording, is already in place. The only conceivable reason for not proceeding with the referendum before a second tribunal into Mr Haughey's finances is established is to make sure that that tribunal is kept on a short leash.
The whole point of any second tribunal will be to examine the extent to which government decisions may or may not have been influenced by financial payments.
And it is simply impossible to carry out such an examination if members of past governments are prevented from revealing discussions at the Cabinet table.
In his High Court ruling on the issue in July 1992 - subsequently overturned by the Supreme Court - Mr Justice Rory O'Hanlon pointed out that it had not been unknown in other countries for totally corrupt governments to come to power and for their members to enrich themselves at the cost of the public purse. Were such a situation ever to arise in Ireland, he said, the effect of absolute
Cabinet confidentiality would be to prevent any tribunal of inquiry from obtaining the information it needed to establish guilt where guilt existed.
Since then, two things have vindicated Judge O'Hanlon's stance. Firstly, in the report of the beef tribunal, Mr Justice Hamilton made it clear that, because of the Cabinet confidentiality ruling, he was "precluded from inquiring into and reporting on the factors which influenced the Government in reaching" its decisions on beef exports to Iraq.
Secondly, in the last fortnight, the possibility of members of a government using their power to enrich themselves has become much less of an abstract proposition.
The uses of Cabinet confidentiality were amply demonstrated by Mr Haughey when, in reply to an awkward question at the beef tribunal, he said that if something had happened at Cabinet, he could not speak about it and if it had happened outside Cabinet, he could not remember.
About Mr Haughey's memory the Government can do nothing, but about his other reason for refusing to speak, it can do quite a lot. If it chooses not to do so before a second tribunal and to leave the citizenry to depend on good fortune,
Fianna Fail's new leaf will start to look very like a fig leaf.