If only the Independent Alliance had performed as well as the rip-roaring book
Part 1 Review
Michael Smith reviews ‘In bed with the Blueshirts’ (Atlantic Books, €12.99) and speaks to its suspiciously unselfrighteous author
Shane Ross can write, analyse and judge. We saw it when he wrote for the Sindo and in his juicy books about the Untouchables and the Bankers. Here it is again as he reflects on four years ‘In bed with the Blueshirts’ which posits the implicit question whether he was any good as a politician. It is the reader’s job to assess this and the assumption must be that Ross secretly hopes the evidence speaks positively for itself.
Ross has a colourful past, Rugby-educated, Church of Ireland, father a big-noise in what is now Matheson solicitors, stockbroker fired by Dermot Desmond, part of the Joy’s set in the 1980s, Senator from 1981, rambunctious and iconoclastic campaigning business editor of the Sindo until 2011, one-time lioniser of Michael Fingleton; but this is not the book to go into that.
He states: “Thirty years earlier I had been a heavy drinker. In those distant days there was heavy drinking in the Dáil bar, where I spent far too much time. Boozing took place morning, noon and night”. Enigmatically he declares: “Today, I could tell tales about household names that would shock the nation. They could do the same to me, so a balance of terror still exists. Omertà. Maybe in the next book”.
They battled unsuccessfully against themselves to form a group to contest the 2011 election. It was called Democracy Now but it was neither.
After a long period in the Seanad representing Trinity and a fleeting immersion in Fine Gael, he considered forming a new political party with the disparate egotistical forces that are Eamon Dunphy, David McWilliams and Fintan O’Toole as they battled unsuccessfully against themselves to form a group to contest the 2011 election. It was called Democracy Now but it was neither.
You won’t find much about all of this in this book but Shane Ross’s insight into the workings of the coalition government (2016-20) is unrivalled.
He has written one of the best Irish political memoirs, bulging with casually shared nuggets and indiscretions
He has written one of the best Irish political memoirs, bulging with casually shared nuggets and indiscretions, chiefly but not exclusively his own.
For some reason much of the media won’t be promoting the insights of this book.
In the Irish Independent Richard Bruton wrote a review that was largely enthusiastic though you’d have missed that as it was somewhat dismissively headlined, “In Bed With the Blueshirts: Shane Ross memoir is disarmingly honest but no kiss-and-tell. Former Transport minister portrays himself as a Robin Hood-type figure, but few scores are settled in his new book”.
There is no sign online of an Irish Times review, at the time of writing.
Former Minister for Social Protection, now Senator, Regina Doherty, demanded action against the book which she says breaches Cabinet confidentiality. She told RTÉ radio’s Today show that Ross had “moved with indecent haste” to write the book, which showed that “he had no real interest in being a minister”. She said he has done away with the rules in order to “make a few quid on a tell-all book”.
The Sunday Times’ waspish Atticus column bitterly disparages sales of the book and in a presumable bid to quell interest has drawn attention in the last few days to Ross’s extravagant ministerial entertainment budget.
The obvious incubating question is why the hostility; and the obvious answer is that it suggests in these pusillanimous times he may well have done some things right. It may be that he is an attack dog and that too many got bitten. But this can be set against his record of achievement.
I wonder if he was a better journalist, being less susceptible to external judgement, than a politician and he laughs. He says he made major mistakes in both but I can’t think of any he made in journalism, apart from unwise prognostications and championings. Politics was to be different.
My feeling is that a politician who the Irish Times ignorantly allowed to be repeatedly deprecated as “Winston Churchtown” was just too public-school for the Irish; too public school, I surmise, for himself.
My feeling is that a politician who the Irish Times ignorantly allowed to be repeatedly deprecated as “Winston Churchtown” was just too public-school for the Irish; too public school, I surmise, for himself.
He tells me he didn’t mind the nickname but for me it seems to have all the worst qualities of racist hate speech: a witless jab at someone for something he could do nothing about, the West Britishness for which normally-generous post-colonial Ireland, understandably derisive of ascendancy, has never offered or allowed any public sympathy.
When I meanly look for other reasons the media dislike him he also suggests journalists may have thought it was uppity for one of their number to seek political office.
And he rightly says he and the other members of the Independent Alliance were seen as mavericks, for whose brand of independence and defence of sometimes unfashionable minority rights there is little appetite.
Richard Bruton says Ross’s vision of himself as a Robin Hood figure but there is no evidence of this.
In fact I defy anyone to say how this skein of political mercury sees himself or to sum him up fairly in less than a paragraph. Certainly the cliché that he is a self-serving but lazy toff primarily driven by the market will not do. But how did that view come about?
In fact I defy anyone to say how this skein of political mercury sees himself or to sum him up fairly in less than a paragraph. Certainly the cliché that he is a self-serving but lazy toff primarily driven by the market will not do. But how did that view come about?
The allegation has stuck that he was difficult to work with, arrogant, uninterested, sometimes cynical and parochial.
Confirming this, though when I ask him he disputes he was uncongenial, he does indeed say so in the book – at least in respect of his junior minister.
He also denies he was “incurious” in office, though Pat Leahy in the Irish Times went out of his way damagingly to assert it during Ross’s time in office, quoting a possibly only remotely involved civil servant: “He’s not a Minister in the conventional sense of the word. He doesn’t sit at his desk, read briefs, make decisions”. And another: “He has no interest in his brief at all”.
Ross’s Secretary General, he concedes self-damningly, was keen he commit not to use civil service time to help him milk the controversial re-floating of the post-collapse FAI for his own political purposes during an election campaign. The man presumably felt this was a real possibility and made sure his advise was susceptible to FoI. Ross once promised to write an article on judicial appointments for this magazine but somehow it never came but he does not seem to have been lazy.
He seems endlessly up for self-disparagement – morally, intellectually, socially, personally, even emotionally – he revels in accepting his suffering wife has a lot to put up with. I ask him about this and he asseverates his sincerity but I’m not so sure.
He seems endlessly up for self-disparagement – morally, intellectually, socially, personally, even emotionally – he revels in accepting his suffering wife has a lot to put up with. I ask him about this and he asseverates his sincerity but I’m not so sure.
Most disconcertingly when I ask him how the attacks on him made him feel, he cannot say – even when I pressurise him. He will only say they made him more determined.
This does not ring authentic.
This after all is a man who can write, apparently unflinchingly, about himself: “Pride comes before a fall. It is the oldest rule in politics”. And “I had done some pretty dumb things in my political life and been rightly denounced by the media”.
He claims his enormous ego – the source of which he denies but which is obviously his background – is constantly under fire from his unimpressed family and friends.
He claims his enormous ego – the source of which he denies but which is obviously his background – is constantly under fire from his unimpressed family and friends. Does the man have no ego or the biggest one?
Does the man have no ego or the biggest one?
As might be expected, he does take out a few opponents: Eamon Dunphy, for whom he acted as best man, seems to have gone cold on him – no-showing at his mother’s funeral – over his non-appointment to the Seanad, the idea of which in fact may have been a joke. He does not rate businessman Maurice Pratt or CIÉ chair, Vivienne Jupp.
But in general it is a surprise that the Sindo’s unfeeling scourge of IBEC, Smurfit, NTR and the boards disses very few and is mostly suspiciously complimentary: “[Civil servants] were good people, who regarded it as their duty to give the best advice. If it was ignored, they would still do what the minister wanted. Their bona fides was never in doubt”.
Covertly he even likes the Fine Gaelers, perhaps too much: “Leo never undermined his ministers. He would sometimes pinch your best gigs, but that was a Taoiseach’s prerogative. He would not publicly let you down”.
Covertly he even likes the Fine Gaelers, perhaps too much: “Leo never undermined his ministers. He would sometimes pinch your best gigs, but that was a Taoiseach’s prerogative. He would not publicly let you down”. And though on the one hand, “Charlie Flanagan was one of the most difficult individuals I have ever dealt with in public life… combative, argumentative, explosive and very, very human…I could not help liking him personally”, a good man for a laugh and a pint, in Leinster House only mind. He says he warmed to Michael Noonan. “He was wise, wily, but, above all, witty”. The “razor-sharp” Attorney General, Máire Whelan, was “professional to the last syllable”. He is full of compliments for Frances Fitzgerald who he regrets he did not stand by when she was forced out of government, for Simon Coveney and Paschal Donohoe, for his Assistant Sec Gen Ken Spratt (perhaps not so much for his boss), for functionaries like Ireland’s “superb” Rio ambassador, and most of all for his Assistant Aisling who is “much, much” brighter than he, gets and keeps him out of trouble, and who even read drafts of the book and successfully suggested he keep his criticisms of Fine Gael civilised. Without her the book might have been less fair, and therefore less persuasive, but perhaps more reflective of Ross’s private opinions.
The book is divided into seven chapters – with lots of space to hang himself which he seems determined to do. They deal with the Independent Alliance’s birth and evolution, Pat Hickey, Ross’s Gaffes, the Pork Barrel, Drink Driving, Judges, Civil Servants, The FAI, and the end of the government.
The tale starts with Ross on the chicken-and-chips circuit trying to find out if independent Councillors around the country want a political party. Finding they do, Ross puts the party together with whatever the opposite of an Aladdin’s cave of talent is: Michael Fitzmaurice, Kevin ‘Boxer’ Moran, Finian McGrath, John Halligan and Seán Canney. These were men (like Democracy Now), but with only average egos and much less polish. Ross concedes some of the problems:
As a team we were one-dimensional. Unfortunately, we were all male. Worse still, the average age of our seven Oireachtas members was a stunning sixty-three.
“While all five TDs were strong as individuals and were confidently expected to hold their seats, as a team we were one-dimensional. Unfortunately, we were all male. Worse still, the average age of our seven Oireachtas members was a stunning sixty-three. All bar Michael Fitzmaurice [whose nickname was Shrek and who actually never made it into government as his demands for breaking the EU Habitats Directive on bogs were deemed too challenging] were nearing normal retirement age. At our weekly meeting there was far too much fading testosterone in the room. We had a fine logo, but the brand was dismally lacking in fresh female faces”. Ross got Transport, Communications and Tourism.
Anyway they of course negotiated themselves into government with Fine Gael, with Fianna Fáil sort of cheering along supportively in confidence and supply.
Its structure allowed power to be vested in very few hands. Its procedures ensured that decisions on most legislation were predestined to pass through without serious discussion. Controversial decisions were decided offstage. Bad habits, like ‘under the arm’ memos and incorporeal meetings, gave key measures a free pass. Leaks galore guaranteed decisions were made elsewhere. The cabinet never needed to put anything to a vote. He regrets the deference to the opinions of the Attorney General.
He synopsises concisely: “The 2016 cabinet was not an ideal body for decision-making. Its make-up was deeply conservative. Its structure allowed power to be vested in very few hands. Its procedures ensured that decisions on most legislation were predestined to pass through without serious discussion. Controversial decisions were decided offstage. The rows tended to be about politics, not policy. Bad habits, like ‘under the arm’ memos and incorporeal meetings, gave key measures a free pass. Leaks galore guaranteed that most important decisions were made elsewhere”. He notes, surprisingly, that the cabinet never needed to put anything to a vote. He regrets the deference to the opinions of the Attorney General.
The book is part-focused on the Fine Gael party, dry pickings for most.
Richard Bruton doesn’t rate Ross’s view on the Blueshirts themselves: “Ross offers few insights into Fine Gael, and his former membership of the party is never mentioned. He lazily reheats a stereotype of a tribe of privately educated prima donnas who view themselves as the natural party of power. It is a shallow and inaccurate portrayal, but is perhaps a device to support his own story”.
For the rest of us it’s a mercifully multi-coloured, if globally unsympathetic, portrait: He assails almost everything about Fine Gael, his former party, noting of the cabinet: “The cabinet contained a cast of characters with human strengths and weaknesses. Pretty average people, we all suffered from a fair dose of vanity and pride”.
Politicians are really only good for one thing – getting elected.
I push him on this and he confirms my suspicion that politicians are really only good for one thing – getting elected. Fine Gael aren’t generally much good even at that.
Ross found the furniture more impressive than the cabinet sitting on it.
The gang in the room contained not a single radical voice. It was a mixture of dyed-in-the-wool Fine Gael families, teachers, privately educated prima donnas and the odd farmer.
“The gang in the room contained not a single radical voice. It was a mixture of dyed-in-the-wool Fine Gael families, teachers, privately educated prima donnas and the odd farmer. There was also a sniff of condescension, Fine Gael feeling that they were the natural party of power. They had lost the election but, somehow, were back in office.
They would tolerate us but would have to hold their noses.
Enda Kenny was originally a national school teacher, but only for a very short time, before he reached the Dáil. His father, then Deputy Henry Kenny, died in 1975. Enda took his seat in the subsequent by-election at the age of only twenty-four. Over his forty years in the Dáil, Enda had never rocked a single boat. He was instinctively on the conservative wing of the party. His father had been a close friend and political ally of Taoiseach Liam Cosgrave, a man whose views were always on the right of the political spectrum.
Enda was comfortable with most of his chosen cabinet, although he had to juggle geographical demands, gender balance, conservatives and liberals in order to reflect fast- moving public opinion. Many of those he chose for cabinet seats were as instinctively averse to radical change as he was. Yet politicians in the 2016–20 government rapidly played catch-up on the social issues of the day. They were often led by opinion polls on uncomfortable topics, dragged unwillingly into referendum campaigns or the Dáil lobbies to approve of progressive legislation.
Part of this conservative mindset was due to history. Apart from Kenny, several others of the 2016 cabinet had fathers who had been Fine Gael deputies. Charlie Flanagan’s father, Oliver J. Flanagan, was legendary for his resistance to change of all sorts back in Liam Cosgrave’s day. Charlie, Minister for Foreign Affairs in the new government, while showing few signs of inheriting his father’s more extreme views against contraception, divorce and the entire liberal agenda, had certainly inherited Oliver J.’s rock-solid Fine Gael Laois-Offaly seat as far back as 1987.
Michael Creed, Minister for Agriculture under Kenny and later Varadkar, had also been elected following the death of his father, Donal Creed, whose Cork North-West seat he retained in the family in 1989. Creed was brought up on the family farm in Macroom and appears to have inherited traditional farming values.
The new Minister for Communications, Climate Action and the Environment, independent Denis Naughten also had a pure Fine Gael lineage. His father, Liam, was a Fine Gael TD and senator in the eighties and nineties. After Liam died in a tragic car accident, Denis took his place in the Seanad and a few months later landed in the Longford-Roscommon Dáil seat formerly held by his father. Denis left Fine Gael after a spat with Kenny over Roscommon Hospital, but his conservative Fine Gael pedigree was an impeccable qualification for this cabinet.
Even Simon Coveney, whom Kenny appointed Minister for Housing, had entered politics after the death of his father, Hugh Coveney TD, in 1998, by winning the vacant Cork South-Central seat. The Coveneys are a Cork ‘Merchant Princes’ family — an ‘old money clan’, who are rich as Croesus. Coveney’s patrician manner probably owes just as much to his education at Clongowes Wood, a Jesuit secondary school for the sons of the seriously well-off. Simon is a Fine Gael thoroughbred. At cabinet he was solemn, but thoughtful. His privileged back- ground made it extremely unlikely that he would be prepared to challenge the status quo. He never did; he was part of it. He was loyal to both Taoisigh, Kenny and Varadkar. But despite his Fine Gael conservatism, once upon a time he had shown healthy, but sporadic, signs of normality, even flashes of rebellion. In his youth he was expelled from his fiercely expensive (€20,000 annual fees today) school after a spell of drinking and partying in his transition year. Sadly, he did not display a hint of any such unorthodox tendencies in cabinet where he was the most diligent and competent of members.
Five out of fifteen members of the cabinet were sons of former Fine Gael deputies.
The Blueshirts have many admirable qualities. They are mostly honest, polite, prudent and reliable. They also have a degree of condescension, a sense of a divine right to rule that would embarrass the House of Windsor. They are joined at the hip to Ireland’s middle classes and large farmers. Compared with Fianna Fáil, they can be incredibly boring”.
“Fine Gael are not a club, they do not visit each other’s houses with their spouses. They remain a tribe. They are bound together by an endless battle against a common political enemy”.
Later he notes: “Fine Gael are not a club, they do not visit each other’s houses with their spouses. They remain a tribe. They are bound together by an endless battle against a common political enemy”.
It would have been nicer to think of Blueshirts blowdrying their hair, putting on their M&S denim shirts and arriving at each others’ smart houses from untipped taxis on Saturdays to eat Buttermilk Chicken and reveal Prosecco-fuelled crushes on the politics of Neil Francis and Michael McDowell.
Disappointing too that Ross does not define the enemy.
They would also cut your throat for a few lines of favourable media coverage. They are savages in a savage business. And they would have a good laugh with you afterwards
He summarises the Fine Gael modus operandi: “They would also cut your throat for a few lines of favourable media coverage. They are savages in a savage business. And they would have a good laugh with you afterwards”. Though apparently only in the corridor outside the meeting.
He berates them for not elevating Catherine Byrne TD to cabinet, because, he feels, she is working class. He claims “Fine Gael doesn’t really do working-class cabinet ministers”. “Inexplicably, it had none”. But in fact inconveniently several cabinet ministers were of humble background. Regina Doherty grew up in Ballymun, Paschal Donohoe is the son of a Stena Line employee who also worked renting marquees and tents.
What is strange is Ross’s reaction to all this snobbery: “I realised that Finian and I would have an uphill task fomenting revolution in this company”. You’d wonder what form of revolution Ross would stir or even approve in his ideal world. He notes: “They were to the manor born. Not only were they uncommonly affluent, well-educated and middle class, there was a distinctly tribal feeling in the cabinet room that first day. I surveyed my new colleagues and wondered whether I — a free-marketeer, an ex-stockbroker and an English public-school boy to boot — was going to be the most radical voice in the room”.
He defines himself as a free-marketeer but when I spoke to him preferred the term “liberal”. But he also made it clear that he did not really rate ideology, preferring to rate politicians on more practical grounds.
He defines himself as a free-marketeer but when I spoke to him preferred the term “liberal”. But he also made it clear that he did not really rate ideology, preferring to rate politicians on more practical grounds. Certainly the lads in the Independent Alliance were a rough and heterogeneous bunch representing everything from his own stockbrokerism and private education of his kids (in rarefied St Columba’s college), to rural libertarianism and quite hard leftism. If you add Ross’s flirtation with Fintan, David and Eamon and forgotten love affair with Fine Gael itself it is clear that there is not much of a vein of coherence to his platforms.
And yet he can claim that the fight against cronyism and corruption casts a long shadow. Except that he is loathe to claim this, perhaps because the onetime public school boy does not want to appear righteous in his native land.
And yet he can claim that the fight against cronyism and corruption casts a long shadow. Except that he is loathe to claim this, perhaps because the onetime public school boy does not want to appear righteous in his native land.
There is a sense that Ross saw, or perhaps more particularly wanted to be seen to see, a lot of the politics as a game.
There is a sense that Ross saw, or perhaps more particularly wanted to be seen to see, a lot of the politics as a game. The book is peppered with language that disparages the importance of issues and emphasises the game: “We lost that spat”; “Game, set and match to Enda”; “Finian and I, to our shame, quite enjoyed getting right up Charlie’s nose”; . “Round one to Hickey”.; “just like those ministers who had tangled with the maestro in the past, I had emerged empty-handed”; “They were right, but there were many more rounds to go”: “Quite an operator”; “What could I expect? I had shown little loyalty to my Blueshirt bedfellows”; “ Miriam Lord in the Irish Times eviscerated me in an article headed ‘Shane Ross rediscovers value of AG’s advice’. Touché”.
He also seems to revel in the fact he crudely tracked down photo opportunities. He could have written a book, lived a politics, where the logic of his endemic high-mindedness extended pervasively. Instead, because I surmise of his background, he is determined to portray himself as an intermittent charlatan. Most tedious in this respect was his quest to reopen Stepaside Garda station.
“I had been brought up in Stepaside and I was determined not to be a one-term TD, swinging in on a mood like the others and being ejected when the citizens of Dublin South switched their allegiance, as they almost always did. There was only one way to do that: follow the example of the late Séamus Brennan and work your butt off in the local area. If that meant a dramatic change from my previous life as an independent senator, so be it. It was time to accept that all politics was local. Denigrators call that ‘pork barrel politics’. I realised that if I was going to retain my seat, I had better not loftily disdain the idea and turn my back on my home turf.
He recognises the delinquency: “To his credit, Alan [Shatter, Minister for Justice and also local TD] was way above the pork barrel politics for which I was preparing. He refused to make an exception for Stepaside. Rightly or wrongly, I made it clear on day one that a priority for me was to see not only that the Stepaside station should be reopened, but that there should be a review of the closure of all 139 Garda stations”.
His failure to claim the moral high ground, game-playing and photo charlatanism undermine his claim to be serious but he compounds this by endearingly devoting an entire chapter to his own ineptitude.
His failure to claim the moral high ground, game-playing and photo charlatanism undermine his claim to be serious but he compounds this by endearingly devoting an entire chapter to his own ineptitude.
There was mixing up the names of the Leinster Kearney brothers, misnaming soccer player Shane Long as Shay Given, athlete Thomas Barr as Thomas Barry, and Sanita Puspure as “dominant Puspure”, there was the Independent Alliance trip to Pyongyang on a ‘peace mission’, John Halligan asking a prospective private secretary if she was married and had children, comparison of Sinn Féin’s opportunistic Imelda Munster to a donkey, an incident where Ross’s fly was photographed open (or was it?), voting against his own bill because he had pressed the wrong button. There was also the embarrassing incident in June of 2019 when the minister gatecrashed boxer Katie Taylor’s world-lightweight-winning homecoming at Dublin airport: “Never before in the history of political public relations stunts has an Irish politician been battered by a bigger boomerang. It was totally self-inflicted. Social media went berserk”.
Beguiled by Ross’s bonhomie I forget to ask him what he actually achieved in Transport though it seems to be very little.
My green friends advise that he was abject on a sustainable transportation agenda. But that simply does not seem to have really been his agenda.
My green friends advise that he was abject on a sustainable transportation agenda. But that simply does not seem to have really been his agenda.
He didn’t want to be in Transport and Enda Kenny put him – unwisely he tells me – there probably mischievously and without the courtesy of consultation so he would experience the hand of the recalcitrant unions he had made a journalistic career out of attacking. “I thanked him politely and wondered to myself how on earth he had chosen me as having the necessary skills for that portfolio. Nobody had as much as asked when I had last travelled on a bus or on the Luas”, he writes somewhat helplessly.
“Glacial” Enda of course had it in for him because Ross had described him as a “political corpse” when it appeared he had better options. Only towards the end of the government do they seem to have reconciled.
At the end of the book he lists an amalgam of his and the Independent Alliance’s achievements. He believes that:
Lives have been saved as a result of the stricter drink-driving legislation. It was hard fought in the face of much opposition.We can claim many successes in the four budgets under the last government, particularly where the old and the sick were concerned.We hope we have ended the curse of crony culture.
“lives have been saved as a result of the stricter drink-driving legislation. It was hard fought in the face of much opposition from most parties, including our partners, the Blueshirts.
We can claim many successes in the four budgets under the last government, particularly where the old and the sick were concerned.
We hope we have ended the curse of crony culture. A new system of giving the minister minimal discretion over appointments in my department infuriated other politicians and their friends, but it worked to improve the quality of board members throughout all the semi-states. After one row at the beginning of the term, no further attempts were made to pull political strokes over juicy, financially rewarding jobs being doled out by the cabinet”.
Reflecting this, he believes “The Football Association of Ireland (FAI) and the Olympic Federation of Ireland (OFI) are organisations reformed beyond all recognition since we shared power.
To be fair the thread of anti-cronyism links most of Ross’s life work, even down to the clearly unclubby origins of the Independent Alliance.
He seems scandalised by the lobbying of the Secretary General of the Department of Public Sector Reform, Robert Watt, to be on the board of the post-collapse FAI. It seems like a conflict of interest where he will have a role in limiting the state’s exposure to that can of vipers.
He seems scandalised by the lobbying of the Secretary General of the Department of Public Sector Reform, Robert Watt, to be on the board of the post-collapse FAI. It seems like a conflict of interest where he will have a role in limiting the state’s exposure to that can of vipers. After Ross properly turned him down, Watt secured the position when the government fell. This is a disgrace that merits much more attention.
And it appears Ross did do his bit to help disenfranchise a golden circle.
For example, in his earlier book ‘The Untouchables’, he had called the appointment of Pádraig Ó Ríordáin, busy managing partner of Arthur Cox solicitors as chair of DAA “an extraordinarily arrogant appointment by Transport Minister, Leo Varadkar”. Now he had inherited Ó Ríordáin. Arthur Cox had acted for the DAA in cases against Ryanair and others. The firm was one of DAA’s bevy of legal advisers, as well as being a legal adviser to Aer Lingus. Ó Ríordáin had been forced to answer questions at the Oireachtas committee about possible conflicts of interest in the allocation of state work.
The mandarins wanted Ó Ríordáin to receive, at least, a further three-year term:
“He was their sort of guy, no boat rocker, establishment to his fingertips. They said it was imperative that he remain as chairman because we were in the middle of negotiations to complete the second runway at Dublin airport. There was always a good reason. Since I had been in the department only a month and had made the development of the runway a high priority, I accepted that Ó Ríordáin should stay, but only for a further eighteen months, until the end of 2017. It was all he wanted then. However, by the end of that period, he had changed his mind — he wanted to do a full term. A tussle ensued, but after a few exchanges, he was prepared to go. His graceful exit was publicly presented as a willing departure”.
Reforming zeal seems to have driven his concern about the fact the Chief Justice recused himself from the committee that recommended appointment of his friend Mary Irvine to be President of the High Court but not from that which recommended George Birmingham, for whom he had long ago been Fine Gael election agent, to the position of President of the Court of Appeal.
On judicial reform more generally, and particularly his justificable hobby horse – a reforming bill on judicial appointments – Ross was disgracefully thwarted:
“The Seanad, so nearly abolished in the 2013 referendum, still unreformed, suddenly found a cantankerous role for itself. It was a spoiler. Part-time lawyers in the Seanad had time on their hands. The government was in a minority. A few of the lawyers in the Upper House conspired with others to delay the bill for ever.
In command of the legal squad in the Seanad was undoubtedly senior counsel Michael McDowell. Fianna Fáil’s Justice spokesperson in the Upper House was Lorraine Clifford-Lee, a qualified solicitor. Their party’s Seanad leader, Catherine Ardagh, was a practising solicitor and a vocal opponent of the bill. Labour’s loudest voice against it was a barrister, Ivana Bacik, while for Fine Gael, another solicitor and deputy leader in the Seanad, Catherine Noone, backed both horses. Another barrister, independent Rónán Mullen, trotted into the lobbies behind his legal comrades, as required.
Former presidential hopefuls Joan Freeman and Gerard Craughwell, as well as the hapless Victor Boyhan, always fell into line. Another former presidential hopeful, David Norris, was an incurable waffler on the topic, Sinn Féin was rock solid behind the bill, The Seanad itself had become a laughing stock, undermined by lawyers in pursuit of their vested interests”.
He castigates a calculatedly timid reform bill introduced by Jim O’Callaghan SC, “the law library bill”.
Overall he says, “The appointment of judges continues to be a closed shop, dictated by the ruling party, although we were only a tantalising few weeks away from the most radical ever shake-up of Ireland’s rotten system for appointing judges”.
He has the grace and integrity to ask of the Independent Alliance:
“Did the experiment work? Well, none of us are any longer in the Dáil.
John Halligan and Finian McGrath stood down voluntarily. Boxer Moran and I lost our seats”.
The experiment also failed to deliver much on the Alliance’s originating Charter’s commitments to rural Ireland (least of all balanced regional development), small businesses over multinationals or to rein in our vilified but over-paid bankers. It is not clear that Transport, Tourism and Communications have been overhauled.
As he says himself, “We needed to make up our minds quickly whether we would be Trojan horses in this political coalition or converts to conservatism. It was not a dilemma we ever really sorted out”.
Did the experiment work? The answer is No. Fine Gael made all the love to each other.
Did the experiment work? The answer is No. Fine Gael made all the love to each other.
Shane Ross would have you believe he was the author of his own difficulties. But Fine Gael never liked the look of him or his iridescent friends.
A balanced reader of ‘In Bed with the Blueshirts’ will be pleased not to have been in that bed at all.
Part 2 Judiciary
Woulfe is the Key
I would be surprised if Woulfe and Flanagan did not talk about his elevation. Unrecorded private dialogues are fathers of cronyism. Woulfe should be asked questions about the appointments of Clarke and Birmingham.
Michael Smith interviews Shane Ross about the Séamus Woulfe affair
What is the problem with the judiciary?
Judges are possibly the most fundamental pillars supporting democracy. If the judiciary is seen to be an outlet for political patronage or for judicial insiders seeking promotion, public confidence in our judges will diminish. It is simply wrong that friends of politicians in power should receive preferential treatment for promotions to the bench. It is equally wrong that judges should have control – positive or negative – over their friends’ or adversaries’ career prospects. Independent oversight and an independent casting vote is essential.
What do you think about the appointments process?
It is opaque and deeply confusing; and open to ‘inside jobs’.
For solicitors or barrister applicants the JAAB has simply become a fig leaf of a process.
Its proceedings, attendance and discussions are all confidential.
Questions to the JAAB from anyone are brushed off with pleas of confidentiality. It is overwhelmingly dominated by judges (Presidents of all five courts) and includes two legal representatives plus the Attorney General.
There are three political nominees to offer a token gesture to lay interests. Ministers for Justice have often given these lay positions to party loyalists.
The JAAB has become a clearing house, simply sending the names of any applicant solicitors or barristers qualifying for the position up to the minister. This means that the minister receives a large number of names from which to pick.
Nothing is there to stop the minister from finding a party loyalist in the list she or he receives, or from refusing an unwelcome applicant from another party.
Worse still, politicians can easily suggest to a supporter that he or she applies and then the politician can lobby the minister, in the full knowledge that the supporter has applied and that his or her name will be on the Minister for Justice’s list from JAAB.
There is powerful evidence of this happening. Cormac McQuinn and Dearbhail McDonald wrote a revealing article about six years ago identifying judges’ political affiliations.
At the Senior Courts level there is little formal application structure at all. When the Presidents of the Courts were being appointed in my four years in the cabinet, a committee was set up normally consisting of the Chief Justice , the AG and Jane Williams (a lay person with strong legal connections who has received numerous government gigs). They sent a name (sometimes three) to the Minister for Justice. This process is an insider’s paradise. The ad hoc committee considers expressions of interest. They meet a couple of times and decide who to recommend for appointment.
They hold no interviews, which is quite extraordinary.
The AG and the Chief Justice will know all the candidates very well. Jane Williams will not, but has surprisingly seen no need to meet applicants or interview at all.
This process resulted in Frank Clarke, a Fine Gael supporter reaching the CJ’s job, George Birmingham, an ex-Fine Gael minister, reaching the Presidency of the Court of Appeal.
Seamus Woulfe, an activist in Fine Gael, was appointed to the Supreme Court via the flawed JAAB route, presided over by his ‘friend’ Frank Clarke.
In all three cases the Fine Gael minister selected the candidate and brought his name to cabinet.
In the case of JAAB there has not been a single interview since its inception in 1995 although they have the power to interview and recommend.
In my experience in cabinet, apart from questions (and resistance in some cases from Finian and me), there was never a peep out of any Fine Gael cabinet minister whenever judicial appointments arose. They rubber -stamped whoever was proposed.
The name of the minister’s nominee was withheld from the cabinet until the very last moment when it was brought under arm (without notice).
Which of your reforms were implemented?
Very few. In practice, to mollify me, I was given the names of all judges whose names were to come to cabinet beforehand, to prevent me blocking them. A member of my staff and I would examine them to ensure that they were not being appointed because of their political affiliations.
So the abuses and political patronage, in practice, were pretty well minimal as they knew we were scrutinising them all. There were delays to my legislation due to fierce opposition from political and judicial sources in 2016 when we reacted by blocking all judges. This resulted in a deadlock, resolved by an agreement between Enda and me that we would not block judges if the legislation was implemented more quickly. This arrangement broke down when Charlie Flanagan succeeded Frances Fitz and started to show little enthusiasm for the Bill.
How would you describe the nexus between the judiciary and government, especially Fine Gael?
Joined at the hip. Flanagan and Woulfe co-operated on all the big appointments, like the promotions of fellow ex-Fine Gael supporters Frank Clarke and George Birmingham. Clarke and Birmingham were from the same political stable. (This is all in the book.)
What difference would your reforms have made to the Woulfe appointment process?
Huge. JAAB would be gone. Woulfe’s friend, Frank Clarke, would not have been in the chair as my legislative reforms’ pivotal points are a lay chair and a lay majority. Woulfe would not have been able to depend on people (JUDGES) he knew well, to clear him. Remember that Woulfe had been sitting on the JAAB and recused himself. He had been instrumental in appointing some of its members including Clarke and Birmingham to their lofty perches.
Do you think the Woulfe appointment was a scandal?
It was not illegal, but highlights that the system is morally indefensible. The system is scandalous in the sense that it is open to exploitation by insiders and opaque.
What questions should Woulfe have been asked?
Legion. Woulfe is the key. What conversations did he have with Clarke? With Birmingham, with Varadkar? With Flanagan? With Helen McEntee? In my mind the chief unquestioned witness is Flanagan and I would be very surprised, knowing their relationship, if Woulfe and he did not talk about his elevation at length. The trouble here is that unrecorded private dialogues are the fathers of cronyism. Woulfe should also be asked further questions about the appointments of Clarke and Birmingham? He was on the ad hoc committee that recommended both.
Do you know how many expressions of interest there were for the appointments that were eventually made of Maire Whelan, George Birmingham, Caroline Costello and Mary Irvine and how many were put to cabinet?
Dunno how many expressions of interest for first three. In ALL cases only ONE name was brought to the cabinet. In Mary Irvine’s case there were twelve expressions of interest; one from the Supreme Court, two from the Court of Appeal and nine from the High Court.
What should journalists have asked about these appointments?
Journalists should have asked about the process, the absence of interviews, how the advisory committee was constructed, number of meetings, why Frank Clarke withdrew from the committee in the middle of the process to appoint the President of the High Court, who chose his friend George Birmingham to replace him, why Mary Irvine was better than a sitting Supreme Court judge, what criteria were chosen, why the hurry for her appointment when the caretaker government had been told that there would be no caretaker government appointments.
In the Woulfe affair, what questions should have been asked of the following: Charlie Flanagan (former Minister for Justice), Paul Gallagher (incoming Attorney General), Helen McEntee (incoming Minister for Justice) and Frank Clarke (Chief Justice)?
Flanagan should be asked about his discussions with the AG on all appointments. When did he learn about AG’s application to JAAB? Did he have any discussion with Clarke, Varadkar, Woulfe or McEntee about Woulfe’s appointment ? Why did he not bring it to cabinet after JAAB approval and instead, delay it three months? Why did he bring Mary Irvine’s in such a hurry while delaying Woulfe’s?
Did he know that a former solicitor in his office, Mary Morrissey, was being nominated for the Circuit Court on the same day as Woulfe? Did he speak to any of his colleagues including McEntee about that?
Gallagher needs to be asked if he was consulted on any judicial appointments since taking office. If so, which ones and what advice he gave.
McEntee should be asked why she did not speak to anyone at all about the appointment of Woulfe. Did she think she alone had the expertise? What difference will there be between her reform proposals and my Bill? Does she intend to put the Chief Justice ( Frank Clarke or whoever is there at the time) back in the chair? Will it simply be JAAB mark 2? Is Fine Gael former minister George Birmingham destined for the Chief Justice job next year when Frank Clarke retires?
Clarke should be asked first of all, and most importantly, why he had withdrawn from the ad hoc cabinet committee that selected Mary Irvine from the Presidency of the High Court? What was the conflict of interest that forced his withdrawal? Did it involve a financial or personal relationship with any of the candidates? Did his candidate eventually get the job? Why die he release the tapes of Woulfe’s conversations with Denham?
He should be asked about the workings of JAAB and how it decided to put Woulfe’s name forward, why he did not absent himself from Woulfe’s application especially as Woulfe had sat on the committee that selected him for Chief Justice? He should also be asked how he could sit on the cabinet committee to recommend on Birmingham’s application to the Supreme Court after being his election agent in the eighties? Surely that was a conflict of interest too? (It’s all in my book!)
He should also be asked why judges are so opposed to declaring their conflicts of interest, especially as he had to withdraw without declaring the nature of his? Was Mary Irvine the reason why he withdrew? Did he suggest his friend George Birmingham as his sub?
Do you think the Supreme Court sincerely was happy with the government fending off applications on the basis it didn’t need a replacement for the retiring Mary Finlay-Geoghegan for seven months?
Dunno but others might have found it convenient to keep a vacancy in case some favourite needed it before they left office.
Do you believe Leo Varadkar’s description of his intervention with the Minister for Justice?
Leo never showed much interest in individual Judicial Appointments when I was there. He was in favour of reform and helpful in getting Charlie to hasten the progress of the Bill. And he was supportive of breaking the Seanad filibuster. He knew that Seamus was applying for the SC job. He obviously was giving a firm steer to Helen McEntee when he said that Woulfe would “make a good judge”. She never would have appointed anyone else after that comment.
What was the relationship between Frank Clarke and Mary Irvine and why didn’t Kevin Cross get role on personal injuries committee?
I do not know for sure what relationship Frank Clarke had with Mary Irvine but utterly reliable sources told me after cabinet discussion on the application, that it was the reason that Frank Clarke withdrew. He obviously thought really highly of her because he had previously appointed her to the chair of the Personal Injuries Committee. The official spin on Kevin Cross’s surprise omission from that position was given that Cross was too pro-litigant. After the cabinet meeting appointing her, after serious questioning of Flanagan and Woulfe (AG) Charlie told me afterwards that her candidacy was the one that prompted Clarke’s withdrawal “to ensure no perception of any conflict of interest”.
