Taoiseach’s loyalty to his cronies is no virtue

NOBODY, so far as I am aware, disputes that Enda Kenny has always seemed like an honourable man. Personally speaking, I wouldn’t vote for him in a fit. Despite that, though, the overriding impression he gives is that of an essentially decent human being. Nor has it ever looked like he went to the bother of creating an artificial facade to mask his political ambitions. Unlike, say, Bertie Ahern.

Nothing will ever convince me that Ahern has as much interest in Manchester United and pints of Bass and the Dubs as I do in snipe shooting.

To my mind it was all just an elaborate ruse to convince the average punter that he was just like them behind it all. Meanwhile, all he was really interested in was power and money.

Enda Kenny seems to be a far less complicated individual. Nothing I have ever seen or heard suggests that he is anything other than a straightforward soul who genuinely likes Bruce Springsteen, cycling and the occasional game of golf.

What you see is what you get, pretty much. Whether you like it or not is a matter of personal taste.

According to a newspaper profile published over the weekend to coincide with the third anniversary of him becoming Taoiseach, one of his strong points is a deeply ingrained sense of loyalty. It goes without saying that such an attribute is also greatly to his credit.

Someone who is capable of throwing a friend or ally to the wolves has the potential for anything. Just ask Ahern’s former constituency secretary Gráinne Carruth, who underwent the most gruesome humiliation at the Mahon Tribunal on her old boss’s behalf.

Yet the problem with Mr Kenny is that he is just too loyal, at least when it comes to his closest cronies. He has repeatedly placed more emphasis on old allegiances than on doing the right thing.

None of this was in the script when he came a-begging for our votes, of course. Back then, he insisted that one of his big priorities was introducing a new era of transparency and accountability into the corridors of power.

He has done nothing of the sort. Instead of openness and probity, all we have got is the sort of chicanery and sleight of hand that makes even Fianna Fáil look like novices.

The warning signs were there all along, though, if only we had paid attention. When Michael Lowry, that vile specimen of political pondlife, was making noises in the run-up to the last general election about backing a minority Fine Gael government, Enda Kenny should have told him to stick his support where the sun don’t shine.

Needless to say, he didn’t. Months previously, both men had been guests at the 50th birthday party of their mutual buddy, Big Phil Hogan.

During a speech on the night, Mr Kenny quipped of his former party colleague: ‘Is that an application form I see in Deputy Lowry’s top pocket?’ No, it doesn’t strike me as being particularly hilarious either. You probably had to be there.

THAT was only the start of it, though. For the past three years, Mr Kenny has stood idly by as the same Big Phil managed to involve himself in several catastrophes at the same time as insulting vast swathes of the tax-paying public.

The Taoiseach has indulged the monstrously inefficient James Reilly to a degree that is beyond comprehension. By letting Alan Shatter deal with the recent GSOC controversy in such an arrogant and cavalier fashion, he is also complicit in jeopardising the reputation of the entire system of policing in this country. Meanwhile, the shameful handling of the Limerick City of Culture project suggests that crony- ism is alive and well and enjoying a new lease of life in Government Buildings. Nor has the Coalition been slow to renege on pre-election promises.

And now we have that unfortunate business with Frank Flannery, whose role as Fine Gael’s key tactician arguably makes him the most influential man in the country. I’ve never liked the cut of Mr Flannery’s jib, frankly, and my suspicions were confirmed when he blanked the Public Accounts Committee hearing about his Rehab pension provisions.

All Mr Kenny came up with by way of response was to meekly suggest that his trusty consigliere should probably think about playing ball with the PAC men. Even that much had to be forced out of him at the Ard Fheis the weekend before last.

Now, however, things are looking rather more complex.

Reports over the weekend revealed that Mr Flannery was paid by Rehab for lobbying the Government. Not only that, invoices were apparently issued in 2011 and 2012 from a company that was dissolved in 2009.

I’m sure there is an innocent explanation for that particular discrepancy, although I have no idea what it might be. But the fact that Mr Flannery was being paid to actively lobby an administration led by his own party obviously raises all sorts of questions about conflict of interest.

The very least the Taoiseach should have done is insist on Mr Flannery stepping aside until everything is satisfactorily clarified. But, of course, he hasn’t even done that.

When Enda Kenny was elected as Taoiseach, no one was expecting an intellectual titan or a master of forensic detail. Given that he was no spring chicken, we knew we weren’t getting a man imbued with the spirit of youthful dynamism.

Everything we had been l ed to believe, though, suggested we were in the hands of a principled f i gure who was true to his word.

Yet again, however, appearances have proved to be deceptive.