MINISTER ON THE PLANK... AND BOARD IS WOBBLING
DENIS Naughten still stands on the trapdoor today, and not just because of an unconvincing Dáil performance yesterday, in which his hand sometimes shook as he sought to stay on top of his brief.
He has denied misleading the Dáil, despite telling a lobbyist in a mobile phone call something very different to what he said on the floor of the House.
But it now appears that Mr Naughten could have contravened the ministerial handbook, which would bring his goose very close to the point where the oven will ping.
Ministers are told in paragraph 1.4 of that Bible that ‘in order not to prejudice Government discussions, Ministers and Ministers of State should avoid making public statements or commenting on specific policy proposals which are to be brought to Government or which are under consideration’.
Mr Naughten not only breached the secrecy of Government considerations – and he is a member by dint of being a minister – but he gave the game away in relation to what would be the outcome of such consideration.
His divulging is worse than making a ‘public statement’, in that he gave valuable information that was commercially sensitive to a single player in a matter that is of no little importance.
In the first place, it was about a transaction worth millions of euro in itself, with likely further millions accruing through concentrated ownership.
But in the second place, that concentration – or media empire-building – is of concern to every citizen in a democracy.
The handbook also declares: ‘Only in exceptional circumstances would it be appropriate to disclose the fact that a particular matter is due for consideration at a specific Government meeting.
‘Nor should the details of what is being recommended to Government be divulged.’
And just one of many reasons for such secrecy is given: ‘In both instances, prior disclosure may limit options available to the Government.’
Instead of keeping Government and ministerial matters secret, Mr Naughten instead made a secret of the fact that he had been indiscreet in divulging to a lobbyist what would happen.
He did not tell his officials about the mobile phone call. It follows that he did not tell his fellow ministers, nor the then taoiseach Enda Kenny – the man who rang the bell of the New York Stock Exchange in the exalted company of Denis O’Brien, INM’s largest shareholder.
Mr Naughten would have known of the controversy over that appearance and that Mr O’Brien was heavily criticised by the Moriarty Tribunal in its findings about how it came about that his company received a hugely valuable mobile phone licence for €15million, a firm that he soon after sold for more than €2.4billion.
He will also have known that the Moriarty Tribunal only came about in the first place because of allegations that a government minister was privately providing information to one party, to the exclusion of others, at a time when a competition was under way in relation to the licence.
The situation is exactly analogous – with the same tycoon involved – although Mr Naughten will have discerned him only in the background, due to his position as the largest shareholder in INM, whose paid PR executive was extracting information from him.
THERE is a basic political precept which says ministers must be not only above reproach, but seen to be. Mr Naughten, through his possible foolishness, has at least broken the second part of the age-old equation.
Public perception is important, especially in the business of governing the people, because it is government with public consent.
If it looks bad, it is often enough to propel the unfortunate office-holder off the end of the plank.
Mr Naughten has admitted it would have been preferable if the phone call did not take place. He is on that plank, and the board is distinctly wobbling.
And a key point in this situation is that it was not a matter for his ‘personal’ judgment to take the call and then discuss his ‘personal’ views.
Mr Naughten is a minister, and it is written down that he should do no such thing.