Albert's success was built on business but undone by politics

Albert Reynolds

August 21 2014 10:41 PM

Albert Reynolds arrived late in politics, in his mid-40s. He had never served the usual apprenticeship to the art. And it showed. He had come to public prominence in a different art - business. He had scored notable successes with his ventures into dance halls and pet food. He was ambitious and willing to take risks. He had a remarkable head for figures, which would astonish some of those of a different background who later worked for him in politics.

He was first elected to the Dail in the landslide Fianna Fail victory in the 1977 general election. But that head for figures made him sceptical of the lavish promises which won the election for Jack Lynch.

Unhappy with government policy, he joined the "Gang of Five" deputies who worked to bring down Lynch and replace him with Charles J Haughey. When Haughey became Taoiseach, Reynolds was rewarded with important ministries, culminating in Finance. He was an outstandingly energetic and innovative minister.

However, his disillusionment with Haughey soon equalled or exceeded his disillusionment with Lynch, and finally grew into open opposition.

Haughey's leadership of Fianna Fail survived a period of extreme instability, during which Irish voters faced three general elections in the space of 17 months. But he could not survive the 1991 disclosure by his former justice minister, Sean Doherty, that he had known about the tapping of journalists' phones - something that both men had previously denied.

After Haughey's forced resignation and the refusal by Bertie Ahern to contest the party leadership, Reynolds won the contest with ease. He began his reign as Taoiseach sensationally, by sacking eight Fianna Fail ministers.

On his first day in office he learned of the "X" case, in which an order was made preventing a 14-year-old rape victim from travelling to Britain for an abortion. The effects of the case would be felt for decades. But the next sensation was of his own making.

He crossed swords with his coalition partner Des O'Malley, leader of the Progressive Democrats, at the judicial inquiry into alleged malpractice in the beef industry. O'Malley was universally regarded as one of the most honest men in Irish politics, but Reynolds called his evidence to the tribunal "dishonest".

Why he made this amazing allegation has never been explained. He must have known that it would bring about the withdrawal of the PDs from the coalition and force a general election. He evidently was unaware that his chances of winning the election were non-existent.

In the event, the Fianna Fail campaign fell apart, and the party suffered what was then a record electoral defeat.

Even greater sensations followed. Coalition negotiations between Fine Gael and Labour broke down. Reynolds made a deal with Labour under which he continued as Taoiseach.

But this government was doomed from the start, owing to the poor relationship between Reynolds and the Labour leader, Dick Spring.

It came close to breaking up when he quarrelled with Spring over the publication of the Beef Tribunal's report. The rift was patched up temporarily, but the coalition's unhappy term in office ended soon after on a bizarre issue, the delay in extraditing a paedophile priest, Brendan Smyth, to Northern Ireland.

It turned out that no scandal or cover-up was involved. The Reynolds government was guilty only of panic and confusion. But the lack of trust and confidence at the top had ensured its early downfall.

Ever since, its leader's total of three turbulent years in office has been accounted as an outstanding failure, with comical as well as tragic aspects. Yet this endlessly struggling, often derided, leader deserves to be remembered for his work on an issue of the first importance.

He was one of the initiators of the Northern Ireland peace process. His commitment to the process was absolute, and his handling of the question admirable. His interest in the subject had long predated the negotiations which resulted in the Good Friday Agreement. He believed, very simply, that good sense must prevail.

He formed a crucial relationship with another unlucky leader, John Major. Though they had their bad moments, Major appreciated his Irish counterpart's virtues: his firm ideas, his toughness in negotiation tempered by an understanding of the need for compromise.

When Reynolds fell from office, he told the late editor of the Irish Independent, Vinnie Doyle, that he regretted only one thing: that he could no longer pursue an initiative on Northern Ireland. On that question, there could be no doubt of his sincerity.

Does that compensate for his blunders, or his folly in thinking that he could ignore so many political realities? Perhaps not. But his commitment to a good cause should go down, permanently, on the other side of the record.

The peace talks profited from the obduracy of both Reynolds and Major. Each had "bottom lines" on what he regarded as his own country's interests, combined with a determination to avoid fudge and ensure clarity in whatever agreement they might make.

In the Irishman's case, this no doubt reflected his approach to business. Unfortunately, he went too far in applying similar principles to politics.

The Fianna Fail ministers he sacked when he became Taoiseach included some who had a level of influence within the party which he could never achieve.

To compensate for that, he would have needed to make himself popular with the electorate at large. Instead, he insisted that people should "take him for all in all". His image remained that of the dance-hall proprietor and pet food manufacturer.

He never tried to change it. That harmed him during his political career, but now it should stand to his credit.

James Downey