Just Mary (27 page)

Chapter
16

M
y years as Leader of the Seanad were busy and, I liked to think, productive in many ways. As I have said, I was determined to work hard and make
the most of this honour and opportunity. Being out of the immediate spotlight, and away from the overwhelming demands which go with full participation in the Dáil, allowed me more distance
and time to reflect on some of the developments and trends in Irish society related directly to the governance of the country — and to anticipate where these might take us.

One such trend which preoccupied me greatly as the years passed was how we moved from the emergence of the Programme for National Recovery between the government and the trade unions in the late
1980s, to a situation in the mid-2000s and beyond where, with the introduction of benchmarking, what had started out as a social contract between representatives of workers and representatives of
government, was to become like a full government system in itself.

I have talked in an earlier chapter at some length about how in 1987 and 1988, the social partners and the government came together to hammer a way out of the extremely difficult financial
situation, and how this gave rise to the Programme for National Recovery and other related social contracts. Every few years thereafter, there was a renewal of these programmes, each with their
various titles. From 1991 to 1994, there was the Programme for Economic and Social Progress (
PESP
); from 1994 to 1996, the Programme for Competitiveness and Work
(
PCW
); from 1997 to 2000, the Programme for Prosperity and Fairness (
PPF
). As the programmes developed, they became more varied and allowed for the
inclusion of other interest groups, such as the voluntary sector, the disadvantaged sector, and so on. I was a firm proponent of these programmes and enthused over them a great deal. And yet, I
also found myself thinking on many occasions that they were usurping the role of Cabinet, the role of the Dáil and the role of the government itself.

Those of us in various positions in government were being reduced to rubber-stamping these programmes, just as the wider trade union working membership was reduced to rubber-stamping, just as
the employers’ representative bodies such as
IBEC
were similarly reduced to rubber-stamping. Were we, in effect, sidestepping democracy and thwarting the opportunity
for what should have been very full Dáil debates on many issues of key importance? It was undeniable that, during the periods when the country needed to be sorted out financially and
socially, these programmes had fulfilled a very important and meaningful purpose and made a wonderful contribution.
IBEC
representing industry,
ICTU
representing workers, the many other sectors and skeins of life which made up different legs of the various programmes: all of these were a vital part of the texture of Irish life right throughout
the nineties and into the new millennium. As the years passed, however, by the time we were mid-way through Bertie Ahern’s second term as Taoiseach — around 2004 or 2005 — the
whole texture of these programmes became ridiculous, as benchmarking was introduced and began to assume an importance which was completely disproportionate. This was the period when private sector
workers were deemed, in terms of remuneration, to have swept ahead of those in the public service and other trade union members generally.

I am not entirely sure who the creator of benchmarking was, but it quickly became an obsessive and ridiculous giant beyond our control. Senator Joe O’Toole put it most succinctly in an
address at the
INTO
Congress in April 2000, as he sought to encourage his trade union membership to avail of benchmarking and thereby clinch whatever was the then three-year
programme waiting to be ratified: ‘As far as the
INTO
is concerned, the move from traditional review to the benchmarking review is no more than going to a different
ATM
. . .’ And so it was. If you were in the public service, if you were a member of a trade union, if you were a member of the Dáil or the Seanad, you got
money. Initially, you had to show that you had increased your productivity or how you might otherwise have earned it. But, of course, that was soon forgotten and benchmarking became an established
rite-of-passage whereby, year by year, the public service and trade union members simply got more money because the mantra was that they had to catch up with the private sector. Naturally, it very
quickly got out of hand and many of the ambitious work targets set for each sector of workers were just never realised.

And so it was that in time the public sector grew out of control. In 2010, all of this culminated as we know in the present Agreement — loosely called the Croke Park Agreement. The name
has nothing to do with the
GAA
, but refers to the venue where this agreement was drawn up between the government and the trade unions! The agreement was in essence a
commitment by public servants and their managers to work together to change the way in which the public service does its business, so that both its cost and the number of those employed within it
will fall significantly, while continuing to meet the need for services and improve the experience of service users. On the other hand, Croke Park did also offer some measure of protection to
public service workers, in forbidding compulsory redundancies and providing guarantees that, following the downgrading of pay which had been necessitated by the very difficult financial times of
2008 to 2010, there would be no further reductions in this regard. And I think there must be many a public servant who is glad of these aspects of the arrangement, even though the high days are
over and everyone is back to earth with a bump.

In fact, Brian Lenihan, as Minister for Finance, did not fully approve of the Croke Park talks. On a particularly crucial day in the process, Brian was in Brussels, but keeping in touch with me
by telephone. I gave a short interview on the plinth to
RTÉ
. Afterwards, Brian Cowen telephoned me in anger — although he did keep his calm — and more or
less told me to mind my own business.

Croke Park has doubtless served a purpose. We have come a long way, from the Programme for National Recovery to the minimalism of the Croke Park Agreement now. Along the way, many, many good
things were done to enhance the quality of life for all in Ireland. But in the end, like a lot of arrangements, these programmes grew into something too stylised, too stultified and far too
satisfactory for a certain number of people in Ireland — those in the public sector who gradually lost touch with the harsh reality of the daily struggles and risks being taken by many of
those in private industry.

Chapter
17

A
s 2006 drew to a close, preparations on all sides were already underway for the forthcoming General Election, due to be held at some point the
following spring or early summer. My own term as Leader of the Seanad would be coming to an end around the same time, of course, but all of my focus in terms of the future was firmly fixed on one
goal: to win back the votes of my Longford–Westmeath constituents and my seat in the Dáil. I knew that Donie Cassidy, as the incumbent who had won the seat from me, would be equally
determined to reassert his claim, and it was clear that the rivalry was going to be intense. This time, however, I was more than ready for the fight and had no intention of allowing any
interference in my territory.

As early as December 2006, and with as ever the invaluable support and assistance of my friend Mícheál Ó’Faoláin, my son Aengus and some other close friends, I
took the bold step — which to some extent required me to put my money where my mouth was, as they say — and invested in a huge poster campaign. I was determined to get back my seat, to
prove once more to my constituents, my family and myself that I could do it. There was a dual carriageway down to Kinnegad, but from Kinnegad to Athlone was still the old single-lane road which
passed through the various villages. We took over a very, very big JCDecaux billboard opposite a small petrol station on the straight run into Kilbeggan. This was prime territory for me, which had
been robbed from me by the tactics of the 2002 election, but on this occasion I was going to be sure to stake my claim well ahead in the game.

We got terrific studio photographs taken and the huge billboard duly went up. On the day of New Year’s Eve 2006, Mícheál Ó’Faoláin and I drove out beyond
Kilbeggan and then turned the car around and drove back, and the immense image hit us full force in the face — you couldn’t miss it. From then on, of course, it was bang, bang, bang!
Donie would put up a poster and I would put up another one. Soon everyone’s posters were up and the campaign had started in earnest. It was tough but we were single-minded, and I roamed far
and wide, canvassing and garnering support wherever I could. Throughout my five years in the Seanad, I had worked hard to ensure that I would have a staunch body of supporters upon whom I could
call once the election date was set. Many weeks in advance we had also written to everyone who had had any dealings or contact with me, reminding them of the upcoming election and that I would be
counting on their support and seeking their ‘number one’ vote.

Meanwhile, there was huge tumult within Fianna Fáil in spring 2007, particularly during the months of March, April and May. Bertie Ahern had been called to the Mahon Tribunal to account
for various ‘dig-outs’ that he had got and, in particular, to explain — though it couldn’t easily be done — how, in all the years he was Minister for Finance, he had
never had a bank account. Now, in a way I understood in part why his outgoing expenses were so high. He had separated from Miriam as we know, but he felt of course that it was his duty to ensure
that she and his two daughters could maintain a certain standard of living. He also had the expenses associated with a home for himself, in addition to the living quarters above St Luke’s.
These costly matters had to be provided for.

Around that time, Bertie gave a memorable television interview to Bryan Dobson. It was a very skilful, clever interview, during which just the hint of a tear was discernible in his eye, although
of course he did not openly cry. Many people liked him so much that they wanted to believe everything he said. He spoke candidly, it seemed, about the various people who had given him
‘dig-outs’ — such as Paddy ‘the Plasterer’ Reilly — and although there could have been a comic side to it, with some of the names these people had, the public
listened and seemed to be interested. Even so, clouds were beginning to gather above Bertie during these months and it seemed that his ‘Teflon’ coating was in danger of melting. He knew
the election was to be called soon, and it was his dearest wish to be able to guide Fianna Fáil to victory for a third time.

Soon there were a number of stories circulating about the so-called ‘men in grey suits’ having to go to see Bertie and telling him, ‘Listen, if you don’t do something and
snap out of it, we’re going to be lost at the polls!’ At one point too, on his return from a work trip to the Far East, Brian Cowen paid the Taoiseach a similar visit. Soon after,
Bertie appeared to rally himself and pronounced that he was ready to push forward with the 2007 election campaign, as the figurehead for Fianna Fáil. In early May, the General Election was
called for the 24th of that month. As campaigning began in earnest, there was a certain sense of unease at first, but as momentum grew, Bertie’s strengths once more came to the fore.

So for all of us now, it was full speed ahead to Election Day. My two sons fought a fantastic campaign with me and it was such a great comfort to have my own on the stump with me, so to speak,
now that there was no Enda. Aided and abetted also by all of the party people and my friends in Longford–Westmeath, and with the stalwart guidance of my valiant Director of Elections, P.J.
Coghill, I was able to canvass very strongly and, as it would turn out, very effectively too. Bertie Ahern did a repeat of the tour of Ireland which had been so successful in 2002, but this time
there was not the same atmosphere of loving adulation from the people. He did come to Athlone, however — two days before the vote — and many people turned out to meet him. I felt that
he was in his own way trying to make up for what had happened with me in the previous General Election, and it seemed clear that his coming to Athlone that evening had a very good effect on the
voters from my point of view. On Election Day itself and to my delight, I had a very good return indeed, with a great poll result. I got over 8,000 votes, and was the second highest in the count
next to Willie Penrose for Labour. It was a huge result and one in which I took terrific pleasure.