Full Mick Wallace interview,

AS someone who spent his life in business and would like to go back to being a builder, Mick Wallace doesn’t miss a beat as he tells me that being a politician is the “worst job on the planet”.

It’s Monday morning and we’re seated facing each other on either side of a long row of desks in his Dail office in Agriculture House on Kildare Street. As Wallace takes a moment to size me up and assess the nature of my agenda, I take in our surroundings. There’s a framed copy of Irish artist Jim Fitzpatrick’s iconic portrait of the Argentine Marxist revolutionary Che Guevara on the wall behind him alongside a framed photograph of his beloved Wexford Youths soccer team. So far, so predictable one might say. But then there are the documents, carefully-arranged piles of documents covering nearly every available surface to his left and to his right. Jokingly, I suggest Wallace might allow me to go through them for the purposes of publishing their content in this newspaper, but he’s not laughing as he tells me how he very nearly didn’t stand for election.

“The main reason I stood again was that I had too much unfinished business,” he says, adding “I ain’t going to stay in here forever. Life’s too short. I’ve worked hard all my life and I’ll continue working until I die, but I ain’t going to stay working in here until I die, that’s for sure.”

The unfinished business Wallace is referring to is of course his pursuit of allegations of serious misconduct in relation to Nama. The most serious of these to date centres on the sale of Nama’s €5.6bn Northern Ireland loan book — code-named ‘Project Eagle’ — to the US private equity giant, Cerberus.

While all parties involved in the deal have denied any wrongdoing, Wallace has continued to call in the Dail for the establishment of a commission of inquiry into the affair, which is already under investigation by the UK’s National Crime Agency (NCA) and the SEC in the United States.

Asked about the Government’s reluctance to launch an investigation here, Wallace says: “I believe the Government know a lot more than they’re letting on. I believe the Department of Finance is pretty well informed. The Taoiseach, the Tanaiste and the Minister for Finance have said if I have any information, I should go to the gardai. I’ve talked to the gardai on numerous occasions, I’ve talked to the British National Crime Agency (NCA). I’ve seen stuff that I shouldn’t have seen that has gone to the gardai from other people. I can tell you it’s pretty damning. If anyone thinks the guards are not being kept well informed about a lot of what’s going on in Nama, that’s not true. The guards are very well aware there’s a lot of problems with what’s gone on in Nama, and not just with Project Eagle.”

So is there much more than Project Eagle to be inquired into?

He says: “At this stage, I can safely say that I have received information from in the region of 40 different sources; developers, solicitors, former Nama employees, some smaller business people. A lot of them I’m sure wouldn’t agree with my policies, and I would be well aware the majority of people who have told me anything have a vested interest. They’re unlikely to come telling me stuff for the good of my health. But a lot of people out there have a vested interest in the truth being told about how Nama operates.”

While that statement may sound sensational, Wallace is conscious of the need to be careful in terms of his handling of the allegations being brought to him.

“Myself and Clare Daly spent two years on the policing stuff before we really made a big breakthrough on it. I’d say we didn’t use 10 pc of what we were told, because whenever we got anything, we didn’t say boo about it until we checked it, crosschecked it and checked it again. We knew if we were caught once, [in terms of ] our credibility, it would have been too serious a matter. It’s the same with Nama. I’ve been as measured as I possibly can. People think ‘oh here he is going into the Dail chamber and abusing Dail privilege’. I’m very careful with words. I know how to write and I know how to use words. I did study English in university and I’m not as stupid as I look. If you go back over every word I said, I challenge you to find one place where I lied. I have not been proven to have been wrong on anything yet. I’m not saying everything I’m going to say is going to be perfect, but I’ve still to be proven wrong on anything I’ve said. I am very measured about how I deal with any information I get and I have been very conservative with what I have got to date.”

The Wexford TD says he has been shocked but not surprised by some of the claims made to him about Nama.

“I know how business works. I’ve been in business all my life. Some people behave well. Some people don’t. When I first started to hear there were problems in Nama, I wasn’t surprised. But in time, I was. To be honest, I’m shocked, and I’m not easily shocked. It’s really worrying for Ireland if this is how we’re going to operate.”

He acknowledges business can be a “dirty game” and that “poor things” sometimes happen.

“I was in business all my life. You can talk to the businesses I dealt with and you can talk to the people who worked for me; I did try to behave properly. Was I a saint? No, I wasn’t a saint. I did try. We did great work and I tried to treat my workers well, and I tried to have an honest approach to business.

“Now you might say ‘well this is the fellah who under-declared his VAT when the crisis came’. And I did. But you know what? If I could appeal it, I would. I expected when we under-declared the VAT, that we would eventually be able to pay it. We weren’t. And we had to tell the Revenue we under-declared. That was the end of our business.”

Prior to the crash and his entry into politics, Wallace was a builder all his life he says. He started out “as a chap”, working “in the summer months and whenever I wasn’t in school” for the construction company his father and uncle had in the family’s hometown of Wellingtonbridge in south county Wexford.

From there, he went on to do an arts degree in History and English at UCD, qualifying as a teacher. By that stage however, he had already had enough of the classroom.

“I found I was able to make more money pushing a wheelbarrow than teaching. So I pushed wheelbarrows instead,” he says.

Describing his progression from subcontractor in 1989 to main contractor in 1996, he recalls the ‘sage’ advice he received on how best to succeed in the business.

“I remember when I got my first job as a main contractor, I was having a pint with a contracts manager from a big firm in the city and he said to me: ‘I have some advice for you now, Wallace. I’m telling you now. You’re not going to make it in this game unless you cut your hair, buy a suit and join Fianna Fail’. So I assured him I’d be doing none of those things, and that I was optimistic I could still make a go of it. I like to think I wasn’t one of the big players in this town, but I’m proud of the work we did, and it will be standing long after I’m dead.”

Wallace says he never entertained the possibility that his business could collapse.

“When you go out there, and you speculate and you take chances, it’s great when it works out; and sure it’s not so great when it doesn’t. I’ve no regrets. I really enjoyed building. It was a big part of my life. Some people say: ‘Wallace, you probably put money aside’. I was advised to put money aside, legally, and I wouldn’t because I’m a born optimist. I had never lost money on a job in my life. I could never see the business collapsing. “I didn’t understand finance. I didn’t understand banking. I started studying banking, going back to the Italians 500 years ago, I started studying it after the crash. I should have studied it beforehand. I know a good bit about it now. I have no money, but you know what? I don’t give a damn. If I need to make money again, I’ll make it. But money was never important to me. People say all the developers were greedy. I wasn’t greedy. I don’t care about money. If I wanted it, I made it, but I never cared about it.”

Wallace is still dealing with his creditor banks, but hasn’t ruled out a return to building.

He says: “Hopefully I’ll build again some day. I loved building. I had a real passion for it. Anything I do, I have a passion for it. I’m passionate about football. I’m very proud to have managed six under-18s teams in Wexford to all Ireland wins; four with the county, two with Wexford Youths club. It’s one of the proudest things in my life.”

And although he didn’t follow the contract manager’s advice to join Fianna Fail in 1996, 20 years on, it would seem the soldiers of destiny wouldn’t mind having him in their ranks. Asked if it’s true that he’s drawn from Fianna Fail stock, he recounts what happened when he went to discuss Nama with the party’s leader Micheal Martin recently.

“I met a Fianna Fail TD on the way who I get on well with. I actually get on well with a lot of the Fianna Fail TDs. When I went in to the office, there were four of the staff there and he said: ‘Look lads, I told you he’d join us eventually. It was only a matter of time. Sure he comes from Fianna Fail stock’.

“And I turned to the four lads and I said: ‘Look, you guys are not stupid. You know I have some principles and you also know that Fianna Fail don’t have any’. But in fairness to Fianna Fail, they don’t pretend to have any principles — and that’s what I like about them.”

Whatever time Wallace has for Fianna Fail, he has no time for Fine Gael or Labour.

“Fine Gael and Labour pretend to have principles, but they haven’t got them either. One of the most striking things for me in my time in politics has been the behaviour of the Labour Party. Labour seem to be unapologetically neo-liberal and they were as comfortable as hell in government with Fine Gael. They’re still trying to justify it.

“I found their behaviour shocking and it says all that’s wrong with Irish politics and it explains why we have such a poor standing with the public.”

Whatever lack of faith there is amongst the public in the political system, Wallace is concerned by the potential reputational damage the State could suffer as a consequence of the Government’s refusal to investigate the allegations now being made about Nama.

“I understand how they operate. This is problematic. The first day the UK National Crime Agency came in here, I said to them ‘You know what? I don’t know how much you guys are going to find out. I don’t know that you’re going to tell the truth about this, and I’ ll tell you why. From my understanding, your job is serve and protect the state you work for, and the truth may prove problematic for the state. You may decide telling the truth is not such a good idea.’ ”

Wallace is similarly pessimistic when it comes to the attitude of the authorities in Dublin.

He says: “We’re not so different [in the south]. I can’t second guess them [the Government] but I am aware they were very content to agree to the inquiry into the IBRC without too much hassle. They seemed to be comfortable they’d be able to deal with the outcome. I think they’re a little bit more wary of the outcome of the truth surrounding Nama.

“I think there could be serious repercussions. I would also have concerns that unless the Government has an open and transparent approach about how we do business here, this could have repercussions for international investment here.

“I think that’s very worrying. We’re not going to do our [international] reputation any good if we continue to pretend ‘ah, sure everything is grand. It’s only a few disgruntled developers talking to Wallace. They’re upset the way things worked out’.

“I’m sorry to say there’s a lot more to it. I know more than I want to know about Nama at this stage, and I can tell you it’s scary. I’d be very concerned about many aspects of how we do business in this country.”

‘I was told I wouldn’t make it in this game unless I got my hair cut, bought a suit and joined Fianna Fail...’ Mick Wallace wants to be a builder again — but he has some unfinished political business to take care of first. He spoke to Ronald Quinlan