The second point, an underlying philosophical one, arising out of the discussion document presented by the Minister, is that if we discuss Dáil reform, we are in effect discussing Deputy reform: we are talking about ourselves. There has been much comment recently on radio and television that Dáil Deputies should be legislators, that they are getting their roles mixed and that we are being seen primarily as people who just go out to get things for people who would normally [not] get them, that we should be legislating and thinking of it. Both points of view are right. That is what I intend to do in, I hope, my long Dáil career, but I also believe that if we immune ourselves in the Dáil Chamber and we sit on committees and find ourselves talking to one another for ever, there is a slightly unreal atmosphere in that. When we find ourselves in this Chamber, in the corridors around this House and in committee rooms, we can grow in on one another and think that this is life, that life is Dublin, Dáil Éireann and Seanad Éireann. Life is part of this, but it is also down the country among your people, hearing their points of view.
How can I effectively contribute to a committee on education, in which I am interested, or on the environment and housing, which is my greatest interest, unless I have been listening to people, hearing what has gone wrong with their entitlements and what they want to see in house grants, loans, building, construction and roads? Each Deputy must get the feedback from people before he or she can come into this Chamber or go into a committee system and give their views. It is only by intermingling with people that one can do this. I would like this point to be on record. The Minister has not said anything about this but it arises out of his discussion document, which is the underlying philosophy of the role of a TD as perceived by the people, the media, but, most of all, as perceived by ourselves. If we ignore the highly relevant everyday life of people for what is, too, highly relevant, the committee system and the Dáil system, and we do not merge the two things, we will have lost an essential element of what must go into it. We must be practical in our legislation and we must not be in a cloud up in the sky.
Another point I want to make is in relation to the very valid point brought up yesterday about holidays ... [Deputy Séamus Brennan] said he would like to see the Dáil holidays broken up into sections so that we would not appear to be away from our jobs for a long time, which is wrong if we are to govern the country and to be seen to govern it. The Minister spoke about the Estimates and about how it is ridiculous that we talk about the money when it has already been allocated. That is like a housewife going out to do her shopping when the money is gone and she cannot say what she can put into the supermarket trolley on that particular Friday. The same is true about the Estimates.
He brought up the point about the New Zealand example, where members of the House of Parliament can interject, not in an argumentative sense, but having five minutes on a discussion point, which can be taken up by another member and by the Minister and brought back when the point is clarified, so that the member who originally made the point could then stand up and contribute to it again. This is an ongoing debate where the member can [have] his or her input into that debate. This is very good because very often when one stands up and contributes to a debate, a very relevant point comes up later in the debate and one cannot get in again and answer that, because one has already spoken. The rules of the debate which state that you can only speak once and you cannot speak again [apply to] many of the debates which take place here.
I am in agreement with more time for Private Members’ Questions, where matters of very important interest can be dealt with on a more relevant day-to-day basis. The Member would then have the satisfaction of having what was to him or her a very important matter discussed at that point.
With regard to future legislation and the committee system, I believe the Minister means that we would have at our disposal experts in various fields, who would come to the committees and give us their points of view. That is important because very few of us are experts in any particular field. It is important to call on the expertise of people who have spent many years in management, health services, the environment and many other fields. That can be very good for legislators. Existing legislation very often needs revamping. The Minister should look into this matter to see if it is possible, along with his hoped-for committee system for future legislation, to have a rethink on past legislation whereby it could be amended and brought again to the floor of the House to keep pace with what has occurred in the meantime. We are [in] a very fast-moving society and we appear to be two steps behind everyday life.
I must now take my own words to heart and not go on and on. The salient points of my speech are that the healthy tensions must remain between the Government and the Opposition. I welcome the committee system and the broadcasting of the debates. I am very glad as a new Member to have made my first speech on what I will be glad to say to my electorate, half of whom are young people, which is the case in all constituencies: ‘Yes, I am your TD, I came to the Dáil as your messenger to relay what you have said to me.’ The most important message I got from my constituency of Longford–Westmeath is this: ‘Make your job more relevant: tune it, sharpen it, bring it to the point and make it more in touch with everyday life.’
I welcome the Minister’s report.
I had another chance to reap the benefits of my ‘carpe diem’ mantra one Sunday afternoon in January 1983, in what I would realise later was to be a defining moment in my career in politics. In the early days of the New Year, Charlie Haughey as our leader had undergone another ‘heave’ and had won through once more. The next step for him was to choose his Shadow Cabinet. Anyway, it was a Sunday afternoon and I was at home when the telephone rang. I had been cooking the lunch, while Enda read the Sunday papers; the boys were out at football or rowing or some other sport. We had that most modern of marvels — or so it was in those days — an extension from the hall telephone to the kitchen. So I picked up the phone and took the call in the kitchen. ‘Hello,’ I said, ‘Yes, it is Mary O’Rourke. Oh, hello, Mr Haughey, good afternoon.’ (Needless to say at that stage, as a greenhorn in the Dáil, I always addressed him as Mr Haughey.) I knew that Enda could hear me and could imagine him cocking his ears to listen at this point, but obviously only my side of the conversation was audible to him.
In any case, Charlie Haughey it was, and he said to me, ‘Tomorrow I am forming my Shadow Cabinet and I want you up here for 11 a.m. — I am going to make you Shadow Minister for Women’s Affairs.’
Without giving it a second thought, I responded immediately, ‘Thank you for the offer. But I don’t want to be Minister for Women’s Affairs.’
‘Oh! And why not?’ he said.
‘Of course, I think Nuala Fennell’ — Nuala was Fine Gael’s Cabinet Minister for Women’s Affairs at the time; she and I had befriended each other back in the 1970s — ‘a very fine woman. But I don’t want to be put in a cupboard, with “Women’s Affairs” on a label on the door and to only get out whenever there are women’s affairs to be discussed. I will always be discussing women’s affairs, because I am interested in them and I am a woman — but I don’t want to be pigeon-holed like that.’
‘Oh, I see Missy,’ said Haughey after a pause, ‘Particular, aren’t you?’ And with that, he put down the phone.
Enda had gathered enough from what I was saying to deduce that I had somehow turned down the Taoiseach and, coming into the kitchen, he said, ‘Well that’s you f***ed then — you won’t get another offer now, I can tell you!’ So anyway time went on and we continued with our day, eating our lunch whenever the boys came back from their game and doing the usual Sunday things.
About three hours later, the telephone rang once more and it was Charlie Haughey again. ‘Shadow Minister for Education, opposite Gemma Hussey, okay? Be in by eleven in the morning.’ So there it was, I had been bold — but it wasn’t until sometime later, when I had more experience in the Dáil that I fully realised just how bold I had been. To this day, whenever I think abou
t or relate that incident, I still do not know from what part of my soul, mind or body I dredged up the idea and the audacity of that initial reply I made to Charlie Haughey on the Sunday afternoon in question. Yet wherever it came from, I did it and of course it shaped my life thereafter. It was an imaginative strike and one that I never regretted, as of course from then on, especially once I was appointed Minister for Education, my career took off in a big way. Once again, I see this story as an example of the importance of ‘carpe diem’, and as indicative of the way in which he who seizes the day can in fact win the day.
So there I was, duly elected as a td for Longford–Westmeath, full of hope and bounce and so much looking forward to my work in Dáil Éireann. I went on to act as Shadow Minister for Education for four-and-a-half years. It was very hard work. We would meet at 11 a.m. every Tuesday. Charlie was every bit as rigorous with his Shadow Cabinet as if it were a real Cabinet. There is no doubt that Haughey expected you to work as hard as if you were a Minister in government. I really revelled in the work, however. I enjoyed shadowing Gemma Hussey, a very pleasant woman, with whom I have maintained warm relations and indeed a friendship throughout the years. No doubt I made her life hell on occasion, as she did mine at times too. But I like to think that we both played the game as it then was, within the limits — she as a full-blooded Minister and me as a full-blooded Shadow Minister.
In February 1987 the coalition of Fine Gael (under Garret FitzGerald) and Labour came to an end in a messy way. Now blessed Garret in retrospect often liked to represent this parting of the ways as a very amicable one, insisting that they all remained great friends even as they fell out. Perhaps it was the case, but what they presented to the public seemed more like a rather acrimonious adieu, as Labour pulled out over very necessary and indeed long overdue spending cuts.
Meanwhile, Fianna Fáil returned three out of four TDS in Longford–Westmeath: Albert Reynolds, Henry Abbott and myself. There had been a hugely entertaining incident involving Albert Reynolds and me, which indeed he has delineated skilfully in his autobiography and which has gone down in political folklore as ‘the Battle of Tang’. Tang is a small village on the borders of Westmeath and Longford, but technically it was part of my area for canvassing and garnering the vote. On the last Sunday before the General Election of February 1987, however, Albert and his cohort of followers decided they were going to speak outside Tang Church after morning Mass. Since my team and I had exactly the same plan, it seemed that we were set for an almighty stand-off. I arrived at the church with my truck, my guys and my microphone. Shortly afterwards, Albert arrived with his truck, his guys and his microphone. We knew that the priest was nearing completion in the church because we had a scout going inside and keeping us informed. But we had no idea what was going to happen next — whether or not we were just going to go head-to-head and drown one another out, or whether someone would back down at the last moment. In the end, we both stepped back from the brink and agreed to stage a united front by addressing the church crowd from the same truck. Fortunately, we got a great reception from those assembled! I can’t even remember now who got the most votes from Tang, but I know I was happy with the overall outcome and no doubt Albert was too.
While in that election, things in my part of the country had panned out very well for Fianna Fáil, it looked very uncertain as to whether we would win the day and Charlie Haughey would be returned as Taoiseach. The party had undoubtedly lost some important seats — a year earlier, Des O’Malley, Bobby Molloy and Mary Harney had left Fianna Fáil to set up the Progressive Democratic Party (the PDS), and of course that had affected the Fianna Fáil vote in some areas. But Charlie fought a great campaign. We had all of our position papers at the ready and a series of huge billboards in place in a timely fashion in the key locations. It was an election of the old style: Charlie barnstorming around the country; church gate meetings; intense canvassing day-by-day, night-by-night. Ultimately we emerged triumphant.
I had high hopes of being offered the job of Gemma Hussey, whom I had of course been opposite for over four years as Shadow Minister for Education. I knew very well, however, that I was still a rookie member of the Dáil and that there were many more in the pecking order ahead of me — but still, I had my dreams. The intervening weeks between the results of the election and the recalling of the Dáil were tense, with many forecasts in the papers and the media in general as to who would wear the crowns of Cabinet. One afternoon during this period, I was at work at my desk when I received a telephone call from Charlie Haughey’s Private Secretary, Catherine Butler, inviting me to come over to see him. With my heart thumping, I duly made my way over and was ushered into Charlie’s office. As always, he came straight to the point and offered me the post of Minister for Education. I could not believe my ears! However, my excitement was quickly tempered when Mr Haughey said to me, ‘Now, I don’t know if I am going to be appointed Taoiseach at all. It all depends on a few important Independent votes and in the main, it depends on Tony Gregory.’ So whilst I had been offered the prize, I did not know if I would ever hold it.
On the fateful day of decision, we all filed into Dáil Éireann, where the usual spats began and the arguments raged back and forth. At the end of it all, Charlie Haughey emerged triumphant as Taoiseach, elected by Neil Blaney and Tony Gregory, with the casting vote of the Ceann Comhairle, Seán Treacy, the then Independent TD from Tipperary. So Fianna Fáil was in government — albeit a minority government, with Alan Dukes as leader of Fine Gael pledging to support us on condition that we adhered to a stringent financial path — the Tallaght Strategy — the one that he had wished to follow but had been deterred from by the Labour Party under the coalition government of the previous four years.
So we were off! That night, we went up to Áras an Uachtaráin and got our seals of office from the then President, Patrick Hillery, and again I was quite awestruck. My brother, Brian Lenihan, was also in government as Minister for Foreign Affairs, and it was noted that we were the first brother and sister ever to serve in Cabinet together. Such considerations were not at the forefront of my mind, to be honest. I had earlier gone over to the Department of Education in Marlborough Street, where the then Secretary, Declan Brennan, was waiting to greet me in the hall. I had to keep pinching myself to be able to believe that this was really happening — that I was now the Minister for Education.
Declan Brennan was a great, open, talkative man, very well regarded in civil service circles, and he and I were to chart our course together for the next few years in good tempo with one another. He brought me upstairs to my new office, and one by one, showed in the Assistant Secretaries to the Department of Education: the person in charge of Higher Education, the Secretary for Secondary Level Education, the person in charge of Primary, and so on and so forth. I thought they would never stop coming in and I remember saying to myself, how on earth will I remember all their names — how will I ever get to know them? But I kept my counsel, listened to everything and tried to remember as much as I could.
It must not be forgotten: I had never served in government before. I had never been through the portals of a Department before. I was from rural Ireland, albeit brought up in a political family and having won my spurs at two General Elections. I was finding it very hard to believe that I was now responsible for what I regarded and continue to regard as the most important portfolio in government. Each Assistant Secretary who came in presented me with a file giving me the details of the section of the Department of Education he (and they were all male) was responsible for: the facts, the figures and particularly the gloomy forecasts. These formidable files were piled up one after another on my desk and afterwards, I was left mulling over them, wondering how I was ever going to absorb all of the information in them.
That night, after the presentation of our seals of office, we had a brief Cabinet meeting in a stateroom of Áras an Uachtaráin, as is the custom. We were immediately told by the Taoiseach that we were facing into a very stringent finan
cial situation. The spending Ministries — Health, Education and Social Welfare — were to be the most keenly targeted, Haughey asserted, and he concluded with an ominous warning, which I remember to this day: ‘There will be blood on the carpets. It’s going to be a tough time, folks, and if you don’t like the heat, you’ll have to get out of the kitchen.’ I was just so junior, so untried, so green-horned, so naïve that I can tell you, I kept quiet at that initial meeting. On this particular occasion, it didn’t seem like the time to put my usual rule of speaking up quickly into practice! I went back to my apartment that night, exhilarated and daunted at the same time, with my mind in a jumble. I felt that in what I had managed to achieve, Athlone had got its just reward. I felt proud and still very much overawed by what had been bestowed upon me.
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