Ireland was a member of the security council at the time, and the Irish representative voted for the resolution, but the Dublin government only reluctantly supported a British request for an EEC embargo on trade with Argentina. Charlie was personally ‘very cool’ towards the proposed sanctions, but eventually went along with the other EEC countries in unanimously implementing an embargo.
Irish trade with Argentina was comparatively small anyway. In fact, the total value in 1981 amounted to little over IR£15 million. While the trade balance was in Ireland’s favour, the Irish Meat Marketing Board predicted the embargo would be even more in the country’s favour, because Irish beef would be able to replace imports from Argentina on the British market.
For almost three weeks there was little hint of any real dissatisfaction with the position taken by the Dublin government until Síle de Valera issued a statement to the press on 22 April criticising the handling of the crisis on the grounds that it eroded the country’s supposed traditional policy of neutrality. She had lost her seat in the Dáil so her intervention was not all that significant, but Charlie had to take notice a couple of days later when Neil Blaney spoke out.
‘ We should support Argentina,’ Blaney declared, ‘for both political and economic reasons – politically because of the continued British occupation of the six counties of Northern Ireland, and economically because Argentina is one of the few countries with which we have a credit trade balance.’
As Blaney was one of the independent deputies on whose support the government was dependent, there were grounds for believing that his remarks prompted Charlie to reverse his policy on the Falkland’s dispute, but this was probably an over-simplification. For one thing, the Taoiseach had already got some room for manoeuvre with the resignation of Dick Burke to take up his appointment to the European commission. As a result the government needed one less vote to maintain its majority support until the by-election.
Charlie’s policy change probably had more to do with his own philosophy. After all he had been reluctant to implement sanctions against Argentina in the first place.
He had reversed his policy following the sinking of the Argentinean battleship, General Belgrano, which went down with the loss of several hundred lives. This marked the real beginning of the Falkland’s war.
The Irish government announced it would be calling on the UN security council to bring about an immediate end to hostilities and would also be seeking the withdrawal of the EEC’s economic sanctions against Argentina on the grounds that those were ‘no longer appropriate ’.
‘We were never very enthusiastic about the imposition of sanctions,’ Charlie told a press conference on 6 May, ‘but the argument was persuasive that they could be instrumental in applying pressure to achieve the implementation of Resolution 502 and so lead to a diplomatic solution.’ He was ready to accept sanctions supporting the UN resolution, but added ‘sanctions complementing military action are not acceptable to a neutral country’.
The Irish announcement was bitterly resented by the British, who saw Charlie’s attitude as a blatant attempt to undermine their support within the security council and EEC. ‘It appeared that he was going out of his way to make Britain’s position difficult,’ said Jim Prior, the secretary for Northern Ireland.
The stand on the EEC sanctions was largely symbolic, seeing that most of the Irish imports from Argentina were trans-shipped through Britain, so the decision was unlikely to have any practical effect on trade. It was the Irish moves in the security council that provoked the wrath of the British, because no reference was made to implementing Resolution 502. If the Irish proposal were accepted, Argentinean forces would be able to remain on the Falkland Islands, pending a diplomatic settlement. Argentina would therefore undoubtedly enjoy an advantage as a result of her invasion, which was a blatant violation of her obligations under the UN charter.
Charlie made no apologies for his government’s behaviour. As an elected member of the security council, Ireland had a particular responsibility to do what the country could to secure a peaceful settlement. ‘It would be easier to stay quiet and do nothing but that would be an abnegation of responsibility in this appalling situation,’ he contended. ‘Undoubtedly, when there is an emotional situation over the Falklands in Britain and elsewhere there will be misunderstanding. What we must do is keep our heads, act responsibly, act as a peace-loving nation.’
The Taoiseach deplored the escalation of the war in the South Atlantic. ‘Inbuilt into any war is escalation of this sort,’ he said. ‘We went along with sanctions when they were in support of diplomatic political pressure. Once it became clear that they could be seen to support military activity, we had as a neutral state, no alternative but to withdraw from the sanctions position and hope that our stand will be understood by the British government.’
What was not generally known at the time was that the British had sunk the General Belgrano even though it was well outside the exclusion zone proclaimed by Britain and had been moving further away for some hours. The sinking was apparently a deliberate attempt to provoke the actual war.
While the Irish media was generally supportive of the Dublin government’s stance, it did report some strong criticism from abroad. The British prime minister was reported to be furious with Charlie. ‘If he was to turn up tomorrow with a silver coffee pot,’ one British government source said, ‘she’d likely crown him with it.’
Gerry Fitt was even more forthright in his condemnation of the Dublin government. ‘The bellicose and belligerent statements emanating from the extremely anti-British government are not representative of the Irish people,’ he said. British forces were already gaining the upperhand in the Falklands, with the result that the Irish cease fire request at the security council was regarded as most unhelpful by the British. ‘It is not seen as humanitarian,’ Fitt continued, ‘but as an attempt to help the Argentineans and stop the British now they are on the islands. Ireland is not seen as neutral but as having come down in favour of the Argentineans.’
In the midst of the chauvinistic fervour that swept Britain there was a considerable wave of anti-Irish sentiment and some virulent anti-Irish propaganda. ‘It is tempting to yearn for a return of the Vikings to plunder Ireland’s coastal area and rape her nuns so that we, too, can have an opportunity to declare high-minded neutrality and demand a diplomatic solution,’ Auberon Waugh wrote in the Sunday Telegraph.
The Argentinean regime, which was a military dictatorship that seized power from a democratically elected government in the mid 1970s, had been particularly tyrannical and had shown scant regard for human rights, with the result that it had little international support. Charlie was was accused of ‘playing the green card for all that it is worth’ in an attempt to win the Dublin West by-election to fill the seat vacated by Burke.
If this was his aim, then he must have been sorely disappointed because the Fine Gael candidate won with a couple of thousand votes to spare.
‘Strokes and deals have surely had their day,’ Vincent Jennings, the editor of the Sunday Press declared. His signed editorial, coming in a newspaper that had traditionally been seen as a Fianna Fáil organ, was almost like Osservatore Romano criticising the pope. The editorial may well have provided the impetus for George Colley to make a particularly forceful denunciation of what he described as ‘a new style of politics and politicians’ the following weekend. ‘The idea seems to be spreading that in politics success is all important no matter how achieved, that any deal or “stroke” or promise is justified if it results in the achievement or the retention of power,’ he contended. ‘This is, of course, not so, and I think it is time the whole idea was challenged.’ His outburst was reminiscent of his remarks about ‘low standards in high places’ a decade and a half earlier, and just as he did on that occasion he rather disingenuously denied that he was referring to Charlie.
‘I am not as naive to think that there have not always been people in politics who have believed that any price
is worth paying to stay in office or to get into office,’ Colley explained. ‘The big difference now is that while these people always existed in politics and always will, in the last three years there has been a tendency for this to be accepted at the top in politics rather than just among certain individuals who were not at the top.’ By referring to the last three years and specifically mentioning Burke’s appointment, it was obvious that Colley was indeed referring to Charlie, notwithstanding his own disingenuous denial.
OVER-RIDE CONTROVERSY
In June 1982 Charlie was faced with another and much more crucial by-election following the death of Fianna Fáil’s John Callanan. In the run up to the summer recess the government had survived only on the vote of the speaker of the Dáil on several occasions. Consequently victory in the Galway East by-election was now crucial to his survival.
Fine Gael pulled out all the stops. On 22 June the former Minister for Justice, Jim Mitchell, caused a sensation by disclosing that telephones which Charlie had installed in his own office shortly after his election as Taoiseach in December 1979 were capable of listening-in undetected on all telephones in Leinster House and the adjoining Government Buildings. The implication of his charge was that Haughey’s previous government had tapped the telephones of all members of the government, the Dáil, the Senate and their aides.
Within a week of becoming Taoiseach, Charlie had requested that the Private Automatic Branch Exchange system, which he had used as Minister for Health and Social Welfare, be installed in his new office. This contained a telephone console with a loudspeaker and an executive over-ride button that could be used by a secretary to listen in to a call or by the minister to issue instructions to a secretary over the telephone without terminating a call. While the over-ride was being used there was supposed to be a bleep on the line every six seconds, but the consoles installed in Charlie’s office and later in other offices were programmed so that a user could listen into a conversation undetected by using the over-ride with the console’s loudspeaker. It was possible to listen undetected into any conversation on any telephone served by the Leinster House exchange by dialling the number, turning on the loudspeaker, replacing the telephone in its cradle, and then pressing the over-ride button.
The telephones had already been reprogrammed since the previous year to eliminate the extraordinary over-ride capabilities, so the media realised that Mitchell’s timing was dictated by political considerations. Almost all of the national newspapers off-handedly dismissed the idea that Charlie knew about the over-ride capabilities. Even the Irish Independent, the one newspaper that tended to take the Fine Gael charges seriously, warned that those had ‘to be kept in perspective if we are not to get bogged down in a Watergate-style scenario’. Some facetious allusions were made to the Nixon White House. When Charlie invited the press into his office to explain the affair an extractor fan on the ceiling suddenly kicked on.
‘The tape recorder is running’! a reporter exclaimed.
‘No,’ cried Charlie defensively, ‘they are for the smell.’ There were two extractor fans in white casings on the ceiling to deal with odours from the kitchen beneath. The Irish Times published a cartoon of Charlie showing his console with a massive tape apparatus overhead and a depiction of Nixon in the background. There was actually a comparatively similar occurrence during the presidency of Richard Nixon. He had ‘hot-lines’ installed in the offices of state governors so they could contact the White House directly in an emergency. One governor had his ‘hot line’ checked to find that it remained live to the White House even when the telephone was in its cradle. As a result the ‘hot-line’ amounted to an electronic bug capable of over-hearing all conversations in the governor’s office. When the telephones of other governors were checked some thirty were found to have the same ‘fault’, which was attributed to the telephone company.
Although Geraldine Kennedy stopped short of accusing Charlie of wittingly having the over-ride installed with its extraordinary capabilities, she nevertheless wrote that a majority of Dáil deputies thought he ‘would, at least, be capable of such an act’.
Charlie dismissed the idea as ‘absolutely ludicrous’ and preposterous. ‘I never asked for an over-ride facility and I didn’t even know the facility was there,’ he explained.
‘I handed over those telephone consoles to the incoming Taoiseach, Dr FitzGerald, and I think that speaks for itself,’ Charlie contended. In other words, if there had been anything sinister, he would not have been so foolish as to leave the evidence behind him.
Fine Gael was not really in a strong position to exploit Charlie’s expressed ignorance about the capabilities of the over-ride button, because two consoles – ordered while Fianna Fáil were still in power – were actually installed with FitzGerald’s approval after he took over as Taoiseach in July 1981. Like Charlie, the Fine Gael leader stated he was totally unaware of the significance of the equipment at the time. No one thought for a moment that FitzGerald might not be telling the truth, but some media people seemed to question Charlie’s statement.
MOTHER OF ALL GUBUs
When the Minister for Justice, Seán Doherty, left the country on holidays in August 1982, Charlie took over his portfolio temporarily and soon found himself in the midst of one of the most bizarre scandals in the country’s history.
A man being sought by the gardaí in connection with two recent murders was arrested in the apartment of the attorney-general, Patrick Connolly. The man, Malcolm MacArthur, had been staying with the attorney-general for the past nine days during which he travelled in Connolly’s state car and accompanied the attorney-general to a hurling match at which he was actually introduced to the garda commissioner, Patrick McLoughlin. At one point he even asked the commissioner about the investigation of ‘that dreadful’ murder that he had committed himself. It was like the script of some far-fetched murder movie.
The garda press office and government information service initially refused to confirm that MacArthur had been arrested in the attorney-general’s apartment. As a result the press only reported that the arrest had taken place in the complex in which Connolly was living, rather than in his actual apartment. Nevertheless wild rumours began circulating almost immediately.
The following day the Evening Herald reported that MacArthur was being investigated for the murder of Charles Self, an RTÉ producer who had been bludgeoned to death earlier in the year. That murder had received extensive publicity over the months because of protests of police harassment from the gay community. It was widely believed that Self, who had been active in gay circles had been killed by another homosexual.
Having made a statement to the police, Connolly left the country on a pre-arranged holiday. Charlie did telephone him in London and suggested that it might be best if he returned, but the attorney-general decided to go on to New York. The full story had not broken yet, and they were both obviously hoping it could be contained until the trial, at any rate.
Rumours were fuelled when the Sunday Tribune broke the news that MacArthur had actually been arrested in Connolly’s apartment. This gave rise to inevitable speculation about a possible homosexual relationship between Connolly and MacArthur. Suddenly Dublin was awash with ‘an endless stream of rumours, innuendoes, and lurid tales,’ according to a report in The Guardian.
The media had to be very careful, of course, about reporting such rumours because of the libel laws, but an official denial could easily have been used as the basis for a story about the rumours. In fact, there was no homosexual connection between Connolly and MacArthur; the rumours were without foundation. MacArthur was not involved in the murder of Self, and Connolly was not a homosexual, but one can easily imagine the public reaction to a headline such as ‘Government Spokesman Denies the Attorney-General is Queer’.
‘We were dealing with a situation where an innocent man was being made the victim of some scurrilous rumours, and we felt any denials should come from him,’ Frank Ryan, the deputy director of the Government I
nformation Service, explained. ‘We knew that any denials from us would be taken as giving greater weight to the rumours.’
But this did not excuse the evasiveness about MacArthur’s arrest in Connolly’s apartment. ‘Surely,’ the Irish Times declared, ‘nearly two days did not lapse before the Taoiseach or some other cabinet member woke up to the fact that rumour thrives when news concerning prominent people can be construed by the public as seeming to be played down.’
Charlie came in for intense criticism as a result of some ham-fisted efforts by the authorities to conceal MacArthur’s connection with the attorney-general. He excused his own initial dithering on the grounds that the whole affair was grotesque, unbelievable, bizarre and unprecedented. Those words prompted Cruise O’Brien to coin the acronym GUBU.
Charlie requested the attorney-general to return home from New York and accepted his resignation upon his return. Connolly issued a statement explaining that he had been a longtime friend of MacArthur’s girlfriend and had invited him to stay in his apartment during a visit to Dublin without any idea that MacArthur was wanted for questioning in connection with any crime. There was little else he could say as the case was sub judice. The media spotlight was then turned on Charlie himself. He gave a press conference at which he had to face some particularly thorny questions. He was under intense pressure and the strain showed as he slipped up when he was asked why nobody had complimented the gardaí on their handling of the investigation.
It was known that the police had set up a surveillance outside Connolly’s apartment some days before the arrest. They might therefore have saved the attorney-general and the government considerable embarrassment if they had arrested MacArthur outside the apartment. Thus, asking why nobody had complimented the police was really a loaded question.
Haughey's Forty Years of Controversy Page 14