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Michael Fingleton was in top form when he entered the Banking Inquiry at 9.30am on Wednesday. Positively pukka. He paused, smiled to the cameras and strode confidently into Leinster House. He did not quite dance a jig, but he looked like a man arriving for a board meeting of compliant Irish Nationwide directors rather than a banker about to meet his Waterloo.
Last Tuesday, I eavesdropped on a group of TDs sipping coffee in Leinster House. As usual, the date of the election loomed large. But the talk was not the usual gossip about local politics. No mention was made of the man from Mayo. Even Micheal Martin and Gerry Adams were ignored. The latest opinion polls never featured. Instead, they spoke of Shanghai, not Shankill, of China, not Churchtown. The TDs had been spooked by the overnight stock markets. Seeing, as they do, everything in terms of their electoral fortunes, they spotted the danger. Monday’s global stock market collapses had a direct bearing on the Irish economy, the election and, most importantly, the timing of their date with destiny.
In prehistoric days, the dinosaurs were dangerous. Today’s dinosaurs are confined to museums or to the odd guest appearance in Scotland’s Loch Ness. Or to the stage.
There was a shock hook against the head in the Supreme Court 10 days ago. Normally, official Ireland might have expected the beaks on the bench to close ranks. On July 31 they confounded convention.
The Banking Inquiry script has gone horribly wrong. And last Thursday it hit rock bottom.
It was box office day at the Banking Inquiry. The biggest fish of all was on the menu. Members of the Inquiry were visibly excited. A few of the TDs had crossed swords with the star witness a few years ago. A good “performance” against Bertie was essential if they were to earn their party stripes. Yet as the Inquiry does not allow bias, they were, strictly speaking, neutral participants in pursuit of the truth. So on Thursday they all left their political baggage at the door of the dungeon. And if you believe that, you believe anything.
Charlie McCreevy was billed as the appetiser, Brian Cowen the hors d’oeuvres and Bertie Ahern the main course. At long last, the Banking Inquiry was set to gorge itself on the Fianna Fail carcases. Earlier witnesses, like the economists, the media, the regulators and the bankers themselves, were the warm-ups. The Banking Inquiry was never about the bankers. It was always about Fianna Fail.
The last time Kevin Cardiff appeared before a Dail committee, he resembled a constipated sphinx. His 2011 summons to the Public Accounts Committee (PAC) proved tortuous. The then head of the Department of Finance was on the back foot after a €3.6bn error in the State’s finances occurred on his watch. Extracting information from the sphinx was like pulling teeth from the mouth of an unwilling dragon.
The bankers are playing a blinder. Someone, somewhere has been giving them some wickedly shrewd advice.
Has Michael Noonan lost his touch? The sure-footed Minister for Finance has become accident-prone in recent weeks. Instead of floating above the media scrum, Noonan has descended to political jousting. Not all of it has seen the avuncular Michael emerging in glory.
