ISN’T that some legacy the government inherited?
We always knew it was a mess, but (at least in my
case) the full scale of the picture only began to emerge when I started
ploughing through some documents published last week.
These are the briefing notes prepared for incoming ministers by a variety of officials in the Department of Finance. Notes like these have never been published before, and even though these notes have bits blacked out in them, it’s both historic and refreshing to be able to read them. I know these documents were published under the Freedom of Information Act, but I hope it’s going to be part of the style of the new government that they’ll put as much of this information as they can in the public domain from now on — just as I hope they’ll keep their promise to strengthen freedom of information, by the way.
We need to debate the kind of stuff prepared by civil servants for the benefit of the government, and have it presented in plain English. Dry as dust documents are hard to read and even harder to make sense of, even though as a citizen I’m glad of the opportunity to try. Mind you, as historic and refreshing as it is to publish material like this, it’s also bloody scary. Almost one euro in every five collected in taxes is going to pay interest on our debts, and our total indebtedness is more or less equal to our national wealth. It’s easier every day to see the arguments of those who say we simply can’t sustain this, and that inevitably we’re going to have to say to our creditors, sorry lads, the game is up.
Like (I suspect) most citizens, I’m really torn on this subject. There’s something really attractive about being able to say to the world that those bank debts aren’t ours, and to look for a fresh start. At the same time, what happens to us if the tap of credit is turned off? And couldn’t that happen just as easily if we had a referendum, as many people want us to have, about the amount of debt we’re prepared to take on? If we simply say now, don’t we at least need to know what the consequences would be? How can we encourage people to take a leap into the dark like that? My gut instinct (although I’m still open to persuasion) is that there were two occasions in the recent past when we should have had a referendum, but that it’s too late now. We certainly should have consulted the people of Ireland before entering into an unlimited, open-ended guarantee to everyone who had lent or deposited money to a bank in Ireland.
I wrote here at the time of the bank guarantee that there were two things I regarded as criminal, and I still believe it. First, it seemed completely mad to me at the time that we would blithely agree to effectively nationalise the debts of the banks, and leave their assets in their own hands. Second, it seemed mad then, and has been proved to be mad since, that all the banks should have been treated equally.
Generations of future students in economics will write theses about how one small bank virtually destroyed an economy. On the night they gave the guarantee, I believe the ministers involved knew that was a risk. Perhaps they didn’t know the full scale of it, but the guarantee process started because Anglo was teetering on the brink of collapse. If it had been allowed to fall, and the efforts of the government (and Europe) put into building a protective wall around the rest of the system, we’d have had a serious crisis – and we’d be well on the way out of it now.
And of course, the other occasion on which we should definitely have had a referendum was the moment we abandoned all of our economic, political and social sovereignty to the IMF. Not only should the people have been consulted then as a matter of fundamental principle, but even as a negotiating tactic it would have immeasurably strengthened the hand of the government if they had been able to say they could accept nothing without consulting the people. On that occasion — a moment of infamy in our history, as Roosevelt once said, not even the parliament was consulted, never mind the people.
Another moment of infamy is highlighted in the documents too. On page 144 of the document that is intended to brief the government on the range of outstanding issues, there’s a note almost hidden away, under the heading "Follow-up to Ryan Report (Child Abuse)". This reveals that additional contributions have been sought (and offered) by the religious orders who ran institutions in which generations of Irish children were abused. But it goes on to say that "to date, only €20m of the original cash offers has been received. The offers of property are still being examined in terms of their usefulness to the …"(and the next two paragraphs are blacked out). This is an astonishing revelation. Not far short of 10 years ago Bertie Ahern and Michael Woods did a deal with the religious orders.
Effectively, that deal protected the orders from being sued for everything they have by survivors of terrible abuse. After decades of being swept under the carpet, the history of that abuse was finally becoming clear, and the orders needed a quiet and private indemnity from the government.
AND they got it, in the last days of the life of that government just before the 2002 election. In return, they agreed to cough up €128 million, in cash and property, to help meet the expected cost of compensation. Nine years later, we now discover, they have only paid about €20 million.
But the State has paid well over a billion in compensation. After the publication of the Ryan and Murphy reports, which revealed not just the decades of abuse but also the shocking history of cover-up by bishops and heads of religious orders, the then government finally took its courage in its hands and demanded that the religious orders should pay up to half of the total bill. In fact, since the publication of those two reports, the religious orders haven’t paid a penny. We’ve had apologies and expressions of regret, endless amounts of PR spin from the religious orders. But they have kept their money in their pockets.
Perhaps the two blacked-out paragraphs in the Department of Finance memorandum reveal how the previous government intended to force the religious orders to pay what they owe, morally and legally, to the Irish people. Yeah, right. I think it’s safe to assume that from the moment that deal was done, they’ve been relying on a nod and a wink. I doubt if anyone will be able to find too much documentation in the files threatening fire and brimstone if the orders don’t pay up.
But now we know, at least. And we can demand that our government take the necessary action to force the religious orders to meet their moral commitments. It’s the least that Ireland is entitled to.
These are the briefing notes prepared for incoming ministers by a variety of officials in the Department of Finance. Notes like these have never been published before, and even though these notes have bits blacked out in them, it’s both historic and refreshing to be able to read them. I know these documents were published under the Freedom of Information Act, but I hope it’s going to be part of the style of the new government that they’ll put as much of this information as they can in the public domain from now on — just as I hope they’ll keep their promise to strengthen freedom of information, by the way.
We need to debate the kind of stuff prepared by civil servants for the benefit of the government, and have it presented in plain English. Dry as dust documents are hard to read and even harder to make sense of, even though as a citizen I’m glad of the opportunity to try. Mind you, as historic and refreshing as it is to publish material like this, it’s also bloody scary. Almost one euro in every five collected in taxes is going to pay interest on our debts, and our total indebtedness is more or less equal to our national wealth. It’s easier every day to see the arguments of those who say we simply can’t sustain this, and that inevitably we’re going to have to say to our creditors, sorry lads, the game is up.
Like (I suspect) most citizens, I’m really torn on this subject. There’s something really attractive about being able to say to the world that those bank debts aren’t ours, and to look for a fresh start. At the same time, what happens to us if the tap of credit is turned off? And couldn’t that happen just as easily if we had a referendum, as many people want us to have, about the amount of debt we’re prepared to take on? If we simply say now, don’t we at least need to know what the consequences would be? How can we encourage people to take a leap into the dark like that? My gut instinct (although I’m still open to persuasion) is that there were two occasions in the recent past when we should have had a referendum, but that it’s too late now. We certainly should have consulted the people of Ireland before entering into an unlimited, open-ended guarantee to everyone who had lent or deposited money to a bank in Ireland.
I wrote here at the time of the bank guarantee that there were two things I regarded as criminal, and I still believe it. First, it seemed completely mad to me at the time that we would blithely agree to effectively nationalise the debts of the banks, and leave their assets in their own hands. Second, it seemed mad then, and has been proved to be mad since, that all the banks should have been treated equally.
Generations of future students in economics will write theses about how one small bank virtually destroyed an economy. On the night they gave the guarantee, I believe the ministers involved knew that was a risk. Perhaps they didn’t know the full scale of it, but the guarantee process started because Anglo was teetering on the brink of collapse. If it had been allowed to fall, and the efforts of the government (and Europe) put into building a protective wall around the rest of the system, we’d have had a serious crisis – and we’d be well on the way out of it now.
And of course, the other occasion on which we should definitely have had a referendum was the moment we abandoned all of our economic, political and social sovereignty to the IMF. Not only should the people have been consulted then as a matter of fundamental principle, but even as a negotiating tactic it would have immeasurably strengthened the hand of the government if they had been able to say they could accept nothing without consulting the people. On that occasion — a moment of infamy in our history, as Roosevelt once said, not even the parliament was consulted, never mind the people.
Another moment of infamy is highlighted in the documents too. On page 144 of the document that is intended to brief the government on the range of outstanding issues, there’s a note almost hidden away, under the heading "Follow-up to Ryan Report (Child Abuse)". This reveals that additional contributions have been sought (and offered) by the religious orders who ran institutions in which generations of Irish children were abused. But it goes on to say that "to date, only €20m of the original cash offers has been received. The offers of property are still being examined in terms of their usefulness to the …"(and the next two paragraphs are blacked out). This is an astonishing revelation. Not far short of 10 years ago Bertie Ahern and Michael Woods did a deal with the religious orders.
Effectively, that deal protected the orders from being sued for everything they have by survivors of terrible abuse. After decades of being swept under the carpet, the history of that abuse was finally becoming clear, and the orders needed a quiet and private indemnity from the government.
AND they got it, in the last days of the life of that government just before the 2002 election. In return, they agreed to cough up €128 million, in cash and property, to help meet the expected cost of compensation. Nine years later, we now discover, they have only paid about €20 million.
But the State has paid well over a billion in compensation. After the publication of the Ryan and Murphy reports, which revealed not just the decades of abuse but also the shocking history of cover-up by bishops and heads of religious orders, the then government finally took its courage in its hands and demanded that the religious orders should pay up to half of the total bill. In fact, since the publication of those two reports, the religious orders haven’t paid a penny. We’ve had apologies and expressions of regret, endless amounts of PR spin from the religious orders. But they have kept their money in their pockets.
Perhaps the two blacked-out paragraphs in the Department of Finance memorandum reveal how the previous government intended to force the religious orders to pay what they owe, morally and legally, to the Irish people. Yeah, right. I think it’s safe to assume that from the moment that deal was done, they’ve been relying on a nod and a wink. I doubt if anyone will be able to find too much documentation in the files threatening fire and brimstone if the orders don’t pay up.
But now we know, at least. And we can demand that our government take the necessary action to force the religious orders to meet their moral commitments. It’s the least that Ireland is entitled to.