Haughey's Forty Years of Controversy (21 page)

There was, however, only a superficial investigation into the so-called Liffeygate scandal. Some of the things which had happened while Charlie was Taoiseach could well have been more serious than anything involved in Watergate.

Was it just a coincidence that Charlie was asking questions about Geraldine Kennedy's sources just before Doherty asked for the tap to be placed on her telephone? Was there any justification for basing the request for the tap on grounds of national security? Why did Doherty ask for copies of the transcripts of the tap intercepts on the eve of the crucial parliamentary party meeting in October? Did he show this material to anyone? Why did Ciarán Haughey single out Geraldine Kennedy after that meeting? Did he know the dissidents had taken her into their confidence? If so, how did he know?

Such questions had enormous potential ramifications. The answers might possibly have cleared the people involved of all suspicion of any wrong doing.

After all Doherty contended there was a sinister plot to bribe politicians. ‘We had information,' he later stated, ‘that large sums of money were on offer to sway politicians, that a foreign intelligence service was operating in the country and that information from within the cabinet was being made available in an unauthorised manner.

‘That was the security background to the 1982 situation,' he explained. In the aftermath of the Falkland's war, it was not beyond the bounds of possibility that Britain's MI 6 would pay a few hundred thousand pounds to oust Charlie, especially in the light of efforts already made by that organisation to oust its own Prime Minister, Harold Wilson in the 1970s.

‘I myself was offered £50,000 in cash to help oust C. J. Haughey as Taoiseach,' Doherty continued. Even people within Fianna Fáil – who were quite critical of Doherty and convinced that he was the victim of his own over-active imagination – accepted that he genuinely believed there was a sinister plot against the government.

If, for argument sake, one were to accept that foreign money was being used as he suggested, it would throw a new light on events. The matter should therefore have been investigated. Charlie called for a judicial inquiry, which was certainly justified by all the unanswered questions.

In Irish society people are supposed to be presumed innocent until proven guilty, but in Charlie's case his opponents automatically assumed he was guilty. The coalition government was so intent on securing his removal that it decided against holding a judicial inquiry for fear that the delay involved in setting up the tribunal might afford him an opportunity of regrouping his forces and holding on to the leadership of Fianna Fáil. In short, he might survive in spite of the guilt they so readily assumed. Consequently the government left further investigation of the whole affair to the media, which was not equipped for the task. The issues involved were much too serious to leave any room for suspicion that they were being used to score political points in order to skewer a few politicians and roast them on a spit over inflamed public opinion. In comparison with the Watergate investigation, Charlie was being railroaded.

He was indeed responsible for appointing Doherty, who left himself wide open to the charge of having abused his official powers on a whole series of matters, but it should be emphasised that he broke no law by initially suggesting a tap be placed on a telephone. He merely ignored guidelines set by his predecessors. If they had the power to set such guidelines, then he had the power to change them.

If Michael Noonan and the members of Garret FitzGerald's government really believed his actions were so terrible in this matter, why was no serious attempt made to change the law?

Doherty's contention that his actions were justified left the two journalists in an invidious position. He should have had to substantiate his charge, but he could not be expected to do so without a judicial inquiry because the matter was covered by the Official Secrets Act.

The media allowed itself to be stampeded by the coalition government after Noonan highlighted the whole affair by forcing the early retirement of the two senior gardaí. The only public accusation levelled against Commissioner Patrick McLoughlin or Deputy Commissioner Joe Ainsworth was of having carried out the instructions of the Minister for Justice. It could hardly have been in the public interest that servants of the state should appear to be so unfairly treated. The media were stampeded by the suggestion that Haughey's government had done the unthinkable in tapping journalists, which was depicted as totally unacceptable in a democracy. Charlie's call for a judicial inquiry into the whole affair was ignored. Michael Noonan later explained to John Bruton that this was because it would have come out that a previous Fine Gael-Labour coalition had tapped Tim Pat Coogan of the
Irish Press
and Vincent Browne of
Magill
Magazine. When Browne later asked Garret FitzGerald why he was tapped, Garret explained that it was because he had been in touch with a certain Republican, but Browne noted that he had broken off contact at that stage. ‘Yes,' Garret said, ‘but we thought you might get back in touch with him.'

If the coalition thought it was justifiable to tap Browne on the off chance that an individual might call him, would the tapping of journalists who were privy to cabinet leaks not be even more justifiable? Against that backdrop it was easy to understand why the coalition was so reluctant to hold a judicial inquiry. Of course, transcripts of telephone conversations were printed up that had no relevance to cabinet leaks and the high court later concluded that the tapping of the journalists was wrong. It was noteworthy that Browne was awarded almost twice as much money as either Geraldine Kennedy or Bruce Arnold. In allowing itself to be manipulated the media missed the broader issues and became pre-occupied instead with Charlie's political fate.

He certainly seemed to be in a precarious position with his party dispirited and leaking like a sieve. Within a week Michael O'Kennedy had already begun canvassing openly for the party leadership, and he was quickly followed by O'Malley. There were rumours that Charlie had written a letter of resignation and would formally announce his decision at a meeting of the parliamentary party on Thursday, 27 January, by which time all four national daily newspapers had carried editorials depicting his position as party leader as untenable.

There was general agreement in the media that Charlie was all but finished politically that morning as the parliamentary party gathered for its weekly meeting. This was reflected both in the editorials and opinion columns as well as in news reports predicting his demise. But those predictions were made on the basis of incomplete calculations.

Each of the newspapers published lists of deputies who were supposed to be opposed to Charlie, but when the names in all of those lists were compiled in one master list, they still did not add up to a majority of Fianna Fáil deputies. Most deputies were apparently keeping their views to themselves. The reporters simply jumped to the wrong conclusion. And the
Irish Press
took the extraordinary step of publishing what amounted to Charlie's political obituary reviewing his whole career.

The media had written him off again, but he refused to be stampeded. When Ben Briscoe proposed the standing orders of the parliamentary party meeting be suspended so the leadership issue could be discussed, Charlie objected but was not able to prevent a debate. He was adamant, however, that he was not going to be driven out of office by a ‘vindictive press'.

‘I will take my own decision in my own time,' he declared.

This was generally understood by those present to mean he intended to step down within a few days. Even Mark Killilea, one of the original ‘gang of five' who had spearheaded Charlie's drive for the leadership, admitted to the press that he believed the leader was indicating his intentions of resigning. Eileen Lemass was actually reported as saying Charlie was finished and should recognise it.

Some people believed he would have been forced out at this meeting if the issue had been put to a vote, but there was widespread agreement within the party that the press had been unfair to him; so there was no desire to force the issue when he seemed prepared to step down. A number of deputies at the meeting were close to tears.

‘I love you, Charlie Haughey,' Briscoe blurted out at one point.

‘I love you, too, Ben,' Charlie replied.

‘I hope the papers don't hear about this,' David Andrews was heard to groan at the back of the room.

Of course they did within minutes. The confidentiality of the meeting was a shambles as reporters were given
verbatim
details of what had been said, including Charlie's charge that the media were conducting a campaign of vilification against him.

It all seemed reminiscent of Nixon's final hours in the White House. One enterprising
Irish Times
columnist actually contacted Carl Bernstein, the famous Watergate reporter, for his views on the Irish situation.

It is doubtful that Charlie had any intention of resigning, but he did encourage Brian Lenihan and Gerard Collins to sound out their prospects for the leadership. He was apparently encouraging people to run in order to confuse the contest before he began his fight back over the weekend. A massive campaign was undertaken on his behalf at grass roots level with a large demonstration by supporters outside Fianna Fáil's general headquarters in Dublin. He and his people sought middle ground support to allow him to stay on for a few weeks until the party's Ard Fheis, at which he could enlist his greatest support within the party.

Those wishing to get rid of him, however, began to react to his survival efforts on Monday, 31 January. Preparations were made to draw up a petition of deputies calling on him to stand down at the next parliamentary party meeting, which was due to be held on Wednesday, 2 February. Suddenly fate seemed to come to Charlie's rescue.

Clem Coughlan, one of the deputies who had already called publicly for his resignation, was killed in a car accident on Tuesday morning. In the circumstances it was inappropriate for the parliamentary party to discuss the leadership issue next day. In such circumstances party meetings were always adjourned as a mark of respect. But the dissidents were determined that another meeting should be called for Friday, the day after the funeral.

At the outset of the Wednesday meeting Charlie delivered a short tribute to the deceased deputy. The chairman, Jim Tunney, then spoke of the tragic death and called for a minute's silence. Immediately afterwards, as Mary Harney was on her feet calling to be recognised, Tunney announced in Irish that the meeting was adjourned until the following week. He then bolted out the door.

‘Dammit!' exclaimed one disgruntled deputy. ‘He just ran out of the room .'

Forty-one deputies and seven senators signed a petition calling for a parliamentary party meeting to be held on Friday, 4 February. They seemed determined that the leadership issue should be settled before the following Wednesday when the coalition government was due to bring in its first budget. This would be a golden opportunity for Fianna Fáil to score political points, especially as a harsh budget was expected.

The chance would be lost, however, if the party was still embroiled in a leadership wrangle, because this would undoubtedly divert media attention from the budget. As a compromise it was agreed to hold the meeting on Monday. This would allow the leadership issue to be resolved before the budget and also afford the Tunney committee time to complete its report.

Some of the 41 deputies who signed the petition were supporters of Charlie. They did so in order to learn what the dissidents were planning, but the media mistakenly assumed all 41 were likely to call for the leader's resignation. The press therefore concluded he would definitely be toppled as only 37 were needed for an overall majority. He seemed to increase the tension himself on Thursday afternoon when he issued a controversial statement.

‘Despite everything that a largely hostile media and political opponents at home and abroad could do to damage not only me but the great party and traditions of Fianna Fáil,' he contended that a large number of members and supporters had called on him ‘to stay on' as leader. Consequently, he continued, ‘having calmly and objectively considered the situation in all its aspects I have decided that it is my duty in the best interest of the party to which I have devoted all my political life to stay and lead it forward out of these present difficulties. I am now, therefore, calling on all members of the party to rally behind me as their democratically elected leader and give me that total support that I need to restore unity and stability, to re-organise the party, to give it a new sense of purpose, to restate our policies, to re-establish and implement the traditional code of party discipline, and to make it clear that those who bring the party into disrepute, cause dissension or refuse to accept decisions democratically arrived at can no longer remain in the party.'

On the two previous occasions when Charlie's leadership had been challenged, his supporters contended that the dissidents did not have the right to remove him even with the support of a majority of the parliamentary party. Back in February 1982, for instance, when O'Malley was challenging for the leadership the circumstances had been somewhat different, but the argument was comparatively similar. On the eve of that parliamentary party meeting Brian Lenihan emphasised on a
Today Tonight
programme that the challenge was not for the leadership because Charlie was already the leader. The contest was only for the party's nomination for Taoiseach. Charlie would remain as party leader regardless of the outcome, because even though he had initially been elected leader by the parliamentary party, his selection had subsequently been confirmed by the party's Ard Fheis, the supreme body within the organisation. Thus, from a
dejure
standpoint he could be removed only by an Ard Fheis, or by his own resignation.