Playing parish pump politics in high office

The fiasco involving letters that the Taoiseach sent to his justice minister is a sad and sorry indictment of Irish politics at the highest level, writes Michael Clifford

It’s all about giving the impression that the TD is acting on a constituent’s behalf, against the might and oppression of the State

Last weekend we were treated to a serving of the ‘meat and drink’ of Irish politics. It was an example of how even the most senior politicians in the country feel compelled to act as if they were first-time members of a local authority, even at a time of grave, national crisis.

On Sunday, a newspaper published a story claiming that the Taoiseach had asked Justice Minister Alan Shatter to intervene in a court case related to the marriage breakdown of one of his constituents. The Sunday Independent report was based on letters exchanged between Shatter and Enda Kenny. The letters concerned a matter which had originated as a representation to Kenny’s constituency office and had been obtained under a Freedom of Information request.

This was potentially serious stuff. On the Marian Finucane radio show on Sunday, solicitor Malachy Steenson, a member of the Workers’ Party, suggested it was a resigning matter for Kenny. Steenson was obviously opining as if the same standards apply here as do in developed democracies. Of course, that’s not the case. Here, resignation is seen not as a matter of honour, but a sign of weakness.

Before a storm could gather, Shatter was quick out of the blocks attempting to blow the story out of the water. Shatter has been a pretty progressive minister since assuming office. He also displays a level of arrogance not seen in Leinster House for a number of years now.

On Sunday, he released not one but two statements accusing the newspaper of a “thoroughly dishonest and inaccurate report”, saying it misrepresented what had occurred. Yet he admitted that Kenny had forwarded him a letter which he had received from a constituent who had an “issue on family law“.

Kenny’s letter stated “I would be grateful if you could examine the points raised in (his/her) letter and if you could advise me in due course.”

You can shake that letter about, turn it upside down, and see what might fall out but it sounds like Kenny was making a representation for a constituent on a family law matter.

Shatter’s response seems to endorse this view rather than dispute it. He wrote to Kenny: “I refer to your correspondence of the 19 October 2011 and 16 February 2012, on behalf of XXX, regarding a family law matter... I am sure your constituent will understand that it would be inappropriate for me to comment on the family dispute that has arisen... I hope XXX understands it would be entirely improper for a member of Government to intervene in any way with Land Registry records.”

Turn that upside down or shake it about, but it still looks like Shatter is saying, ‘tell your man (or woman) that there’s nothing I can do about their problem’. It is clearly a response to a representation.

Why then no hullabaloo? If such a thing happened in a functioning democracy the media en masse would be all over it like a cheap suit? Why did the story wander off into the night, tail between its legs?

Because both the Taoiseach and justice minister were merely acting the fool. Kenny had no intention of really attempting to intervene in a family law matter. Shatter, despite his arrogant statements, was merely colluding in a charade, rather than ascending to the high moral ground.

The whole business of Kenny’s people writing to Shatter and Shatter writing to Kenny was all designed to allow Kenny to show his constituent a letter from the justice minister, the man who oversees the justice system. This would thus demonstrate to the constituent that Kenny tried to do something, but it just wasn’t possible.

It is a pathetic example of a Taoiseach engaging in the lowest form of politics that is practised in this country. A constituent asks the TD to do something that is either illegal or impossible.

The TD knows that if he explains the facts of life to the constituent his rival down the road will make hay and assure the constituent that what he wants may indeed be possible.

And there goes a vote, floating away on an illusion.

Instead, the TD assures his constituent he will do what he can. He asks a parliamentary question or inquires of a State agency and receives the standard reply that “it would be entirely inappropriate to...” fill in the blanks.

The letter is then shown to the constituent just to assure him that his friendly, local TD has done all in his power, but that the organs of State refuse to budge. “I’m on your side,” goes the subtext, “and here’s the letter to prove it.”

This is bog standard fare for bog standard politicians. Whole forests are cut down to facilitate this kind of smoke and mirrors politics, in which the politician gives the illusion of making representations for the constituent.

Sometimes, genuine representations are made. A constituent may have been overlooked for a grant, his/her circumstances may not have been taken into account, an application may have fallen between the cracks of state bureaucracy.

But most of the time, representations are about giving the illusion of doing something.

It’s a costly charade. The questions office in the Oireachtas estimates that so far this year about 47,000 parliamentary questions have been tabled for answers. (The figure for the whole of last year was 37,397).

Some such questions are designed to shine a light on the machinations of State, the spending, the waste, the systems failures. Most, however, are questions put forward on behalf of constituents, more often than not resulting in no action or change to the constituent’s circumstances. There are personnel in agencies like the HSE who are forced to spend large chunks of their day sifting through parliamentary questions and representations from TDs.

The cost of this stuff? Loading staff with answering representations and parliamentary questions apparently can’t be costed. Parliamentary questions have been asked of Michael Noonan as to the cost — most recently by Shane Ross last year — but the reply is that it’s not possible to do so.

However, in 2008, an exercise by the Department of Enterprise came to the conclusion that a Dáil question costs an average of €200. On that basis, answering questions so far this year has cost about €9.4m, and counting. The cost associated with other forms of representations made by TDs is unknown.

This is what passes for bread and butter politics in our State. There are few limits to the number of questions a TD can table. There are no limits to how ludicrous or redundant some questions are. It’s all about giving the impression that the TD is acting on a constituent’s behalf, against the might and oppression of the State.

Any democracy must have avenues of representation through its politicians. Interaction between politicians and citizens is vital. In that vein, a new website, Dailwatch.ie, went live last month. It facilitates questions being asked of politicians. In a democracy that functions properly, politicians would welcome such a forum, but in this country it remains to be seen whether any effort will be made by the bulk of parliamentarians to engage with it.

After all, it lacks the personal touch that is a central element of electability under the system in this country. And it doesn’t allow TDs to present themselves as providing a service, which is what so may of them thrive on.

Elected politicians have the dual function of being both representative and legislator. And while there are undoubtedly many politicians who would rather concentrate on the legislative element of their duties, the system demands that the bulk of time is spend in the business of representation.

Rather than being a tool to right a wrong, making representations has long developed in this country into a vote-gathering and hoarding exercise, in which giving an illusion rather than garnering a result is the primary aim.

This is what Kenny was involved in. Despite holding high office, he still feels the requirement to play charades. Shatter knew what was required of him and he responded accordingly, although the fact Kenny had to write twice may suggest Shatter wasn’t an eager participant.

In doing so, both men left their exchanges open to the interpretation that Kenny was attempting to interfere in the courts. They may have known that they were just acting the fool, but anybody happening across the correspondence would be perfectly entitled to believe that something more sinister was afoot. After all, most people would be surprised to know that the Taoiseach and the justice minister have enough time on their hands to play charades in the name of the parish pump.