Mick Clifford: Two fingers to democracy — How Michael Lowry became the Government’s biggest liability

Dermot Ahern and Noel Dempsey were asked about whether negotiations for a bailout had already begun. 

Both dismissed the notion as “a fiction”. Negotiations had begun three days earlier, but Ahern and Dempsey subsequently stated they were not made aware of that and had been told to stick to a brief that dated from the previous Friday.

One way or the other, the briefing put a nail in the coffin of that government’s credibility. 

It was compared at the time to Comical Ali, the Iraqi henchman for Saddam Hussain, who was being interviewed live on TV weeks after the invasion of his country in 2003 claiming that the Americans were being driven into the sea. 

Behind him, American bombs were dropping.

Those were the days when telling the truth in government meant something. 

This week in the USA the major story was the leaking of plans to bomb Houthi rebels in Yemen on the Signal messaging service. 

Most egregious security leak for decades

Somebody inadvertently included journalist Jeffrey Goldberg in the group chat, giving him access to the most sensitive military data in what was the most egregious security leak for decades. 

The whole thing was sloppy, as befitting a government put together on the basis of steely loyalty to Donald Trump rather than public service or talent.

When the breach was discovered, Trump’s people claimed the material, which included timings and targets for the bombing, was not classified. This was described at a congress hearing this week as “a lie”.

“The idea that this information, if it was presented to our committee, would not be classified, y’all know is a lie,” congressman Jaquin Castro said, stating the obvious. 

Yet it doesn’t matter in Trumpland. There are no truths or lies, there are just positions taken. Facts are not incontrovertible, but are instead weapons or tools. 

The reality, however, is that once a government is seen to be not just gilding the lily, not just putting the best foot forward, not just spinning a line, but telling deliberate untruths, it’s credibility is rapidly heading south.

All the indications are that in the broken US political system that no longer matters as much as whose side you’re on. 

But for countries that still retain the basic tenets of a liberal democracy, telling people not to believe what is so obvious can have a huge impact on credibility.

So it was this week in our democracy as members of government parties obviously and blatantly peddled what might charitably be descried as a mistruth at the centre of the current Dáil farrago. 

Everybody in the Government, from the Taoiseach down to backbench deputies, have been across the media endlessly repeating that what has unfolded is not about Michael Lowry. 

Such a statement is quite obviously false. The Taoiseach knows this. It is not clear how many of his ministers know it for a fact. 

Maybe at a push some of the backbenchers are more Dempsey/Ahern than Comical Ali, but they can only be so wantonly blind to the reality.

Lowry was the main negotiator in bringing the Regional Independent Group into government. 

He was the one who proposed Verona Murphy for Ceann Comhairle, taking a key, if potentially awkward, player off the pitch. 

Murphy acknowledged his role in her candidacy for the job after she was elected. 

He knew that with his record, he couldn’t have a job in government, so he organised for the allocation of four junior ministerial roles for his colleagues. But what was in it for him?

After sorting everybody out he wasn’t going to retreat to be a compliant government backbencher. 

He insisted on a role that would allow him to pose as an opposition TD when it suited, and with access to the heart of government when that was to his advantage. 

Therein lies the nub of the whole problem that has festered and threatens to see Murphy lose her job next week. 

The only people who disagree that this is the situation are the members of government, who feel obliged to, or afraid not to, toe the party line. 

Each and every one of them has been willing to metaphorically die in a ditch for the big lie.

Last November, when the general election results were in, Micheál Martin was at the zenith of his career. He was, not unlike Trump, the comeback kid. 

He had done the hard yards with the public, acquired through quiet and competent leadership and a modest persona, a reputation for honesty and decency, attributes that politicians of substance covet dearly. Some of that has now been frittered away.

There are people who look from afar at what is going on and think it’s all getting out of hand, the shouting and roaring, the fiddling while the world burns. 

This was the kind of scenario that many would have expected Martin in his recent incarnation to rise above. Instead, he has been central to the farrago. 

After it first kicked off in January he could have gone back to Lowry and said sorry, lad, that part of our agreement is off the table, it was a stroke too far and has to be reeled in at this late stage.

He chose not to. Instead he adopts the pose of mockeyah statesman, saying it’s all about backbenchers and representation and the changes he seeks in speaking rights have been a long time coming. 

And behind his shoulder lurks Lowry, giving two fingers to democracy and the government’s credibility.

A wide lens would attribute the whole current farrago to the findings of the Moriarty Tribunal. 

Judge Moriarty ruled “beyond doubt” that as a government minister Lowry had imparted substantive information to an applicant for the lucrative mobile phone licence, Denis O’Brien. Lowry’s role in this was “disgraceful and insidious”.

The report concluded that Lowry had received payments from O’Brien through a series of “clandestine” property deals. 

Michael Lowry was found to be corrupt

These included IR£47,000, stg£300,000, and support from O’Brien for a loan of stg£420,000. Lowry and O’Brien have always denied any impropriety.

Lowry was found to be corrupt, and even this far on there is no way that he could be allowed to serve in any government. 

So he worked out a way he could be both kingmaker and government confidante, both inside the tent, and outside it, whispering that he had access when it suited, and providing the social media clips which demonstrate that he’s holding to account the government of the day.

When you’ve already given two fingers to democracy on the big stuff like substantive corruption, this was just child’s play. 

All he needed was some children to play along and he seems to have found those in the leaders of Fianna Fáil and Fine Gael.