Adams’ language barrier turns Dáil words into stand-up

By allowing its leader to throw around words such as ‘terrorism’ in the Dáil, Sinn Féin is doing itself no favours, while the Government has promised actions not words, says Political Editor Paul O’Brien.

GERRY ADAMS has a curious sense of humour. During the Troubles, as the IRA killed 1,700 people and maimed many others, he was used to the organisation being labelled terrorists and subversives. Now, with the peace process concluded and Adams focusing on politics in the south, he seems to revel in throwing those words back at democratically elected governments.

The first significant example came during the election campaign, when Adams was discussing the universal social charge introduced by the Fianna Fáil-led government.

“The first thing Sinn Féin would do (if elected to power)… is get rid of this awful universal social charge,” he said. “It is an act of gross terrorism and I use that term advisedly.”

The last government, generally regarded as one of the most inept in this country’s history, stood accused of a lot of things. Economic treason was one (over the decision to guarantee the banks’ debts). And it’s unquestionable that the universal social charge has hit many families and individuals incredibly hard. But at the end of the day, it is a tax — chronically unfair or otherwise — imposed by a legitimate government. It’s doubtful that any right-minded person would look at what the IRA did and what the last government did and think it was the latter which stood guilty of “terrorism”.

Adams was at it again with the new government this week. When Taoiseach Enda Kenny took questions in the Dáil, Adams raised the issue of the €3m package received by former AIB boss Colm Doherty.

Adams, rightly, wanted to know what the Government intended to do about the issue. The payment, he proceeded to argue, was “an act of subversion”.

The Fine Gael and Labour benches chuckled at the irony of it all: Gerry Adams, who has expressed his pride in the IRA while repeatedly denying ever being a member, coming into the Dáil and throwing around words like subversion.

And therein lies the point: the Government laughed, and instantly dismissed pretty much the rest of what Adams had to say. His argument got lost in the jeers and heckles that came his way.

It might be more productive for Adams to avoid the use of such language. Sinn Féin has a genuine chance of becoming the main force on the opposition benches. True, it has six fewer seats than Fianna Fáil, and the latter’s TDs are generally more experienced parliamentary operators. But Sinn Féin has displayed much more energy and passion since the new Dáil began. It is making the populist arguments most likely to chime with the public — railing against the Government’s decision not to burn the senior bondholders, calling for previous budget cuts to be reversed, and so on. These were things Fine Gael and Labour promised to do while in opposition but now seem unlikely to do — with some exceptions — in power.

The new Government has a massive majority and it’s debatable whether parliament will be able to hold it to account. Fianna Fáil, certainly, will struggle, because the Government is already following largely the same path it took in recent years. So Sinn Féin has an opportunity to capitalise on both the current Government’s difficulties and Fianna Fáil’s reluctance to criticise its own track record.

But if Sinn Féin is to do this, the last thing it needs is for Gerry Adams to play smart with words.

The IRA and his colleagues in Sinn Féin might nudge and wink and think Adams is having the last laugh. But by throwing around words like terrorism and subversion, Adams is simply reminding voters of the baggage he brings to politics in the south.

And while he may be proud of that baggage, a majority in the south don’t think so highly of it.

THE new Government is promising actions, not just words. The review of semi-state pay, which it has just announced will be a significant test in that regard.

Semi-state pay — particularly at executive levels — is an issue which has been kicked to touch virtually since the crisis in the public finances erupted.

In December 2009, the then Finance Minister Brian Lenihan came under particular pressure on the issue.

He had just announced a public service pay cut in the budget which took 5% off the lowest-paid. Yet the chief executives of the commercial state companies — known as semi-states because they operate free of day-to-day interference by the Government — were left untouched.

This was because the chief executives, many of whom earned high six-figure salaries, had contracts which the Government believed could not be broken. Yet that argument was clearly not going to hold at a time when Lenihan had cut child benefit and welfare rates too.

So he did what politicians traditionally do in such circumstances — he announced “a review”.

In July last, this paper sought information on the progress of the “review” and learned it had been quietly shelved.

“(The minister) informed the Government that he would not be doing it immediately due to department work pressures and priorities but he would reconsider the review in the coming months,” a spokesman for Lenihan told the Irish Examiner at the time.

But that position clearly wasn’t going to hold either, not when the Government was taking the axe to the minimum wage. And so last December, Lenihan finally announced that there would be a pay cap of €250,000 across the public sector, including the semi-states.

But what about those legally binding contracts? Here’s the language Lenihan used in his speech: “While there are issues about the contractual position of incumbent post holders, I think the position of the Minister for Finance as a shareholder or statutory stakeholder in these companies can be used to enforce the objective of the maximum salary within a reasonable timeframe.”

It was a remarkable exercise in obfuscation. On one hand, Lenihan was acknowledging the contractual difficulties — ie, preparing his excuse — while on the other, lending the impression that he was actually going to find a way around the problem.

Needless to say, he never did. His department later explained that the pay cap would apply only to future appointments in the semi-states, and not to the existing chief executives. No one in government, it seemed, had the courage to confront the contractual issue.

And yet, while Fianna Fáil in government felt it could not force pay downwards in the semi-states, it had felt free to revise pay upwards.

In June 2006, for example, when Brian Cowen was finance minister, it was decided that the board members of the semi-states were not being paid enough. Cowen and colleagues decided to give them a pay bump. And so, for example, the fees of board chairpersons at the biggest semi-states rose from €19,046 to €35,000 a year.

This meant those chairs were being paid more than the average industrial wage for what was essentially part-time work. But Cowen didn’t see it as unjust, describing the fees as “modest” when compared to the private sector.

That same month, incidentally, ministers’ pay broke €200,000 a year for the first time. Because clearly they were worth it.