Why throw money at a President who was in such a hurry to leave?

The real question is not how much the Mary Robinson Presidential Library will cost, but why we need it at all, writes Eilis O’Hanlon

IT’S not the money, though the price tag is jaw-droppingly expensive. It’s not the favouritism, though you’d have to saw off your own nose with a hacksaw to escape the stench of pampered entitlement that surrounds the whole project.

What’s really galling is that the country’s first presidential library is being built for a woman for whom being president wasn’t good enough.

Most people would regard being elected as head of state by the will of one’s fellow countryfolk as the highest imaginable honour. For Robinson, it was a step along the road to a “better” job at the United Nations.

She wasn’t even 50 when she moved on. She undoubtedly had another term in her, and had been surrounded by so much fawning in her first seven years in Aras an Uachtarain that a second election would have been more like a coronation than a vote count — even assuming anyone had stood against her, which they probably wouldn’t have.

No one was able to acquire the necessary support to stand against Mary McAleese when she announced her intention to run for a second term in 2004. Michael D will surely be a shoo-in too if he wants another seven years in the Phoenix Park. That’s how the Irish choose their Presidents these days — they plump for candidates who flatter the people’s sense of themselves.

Higgins is a self-professed poet; backing a Northerner such as McAleese was a way of showing that the peace process had brought the island symbolically, if not politically, together. Mrs Robinson was the first to shift the Presidency away from being an old statesman’s reward for his long service to the State to a position which could project a modern, progressive image of Ireland to the world.

Those were exciting times. She was different, not only by virtue of being a woman, but because of her relative youth, dynamism and liberal outlook.

Her time in office would see the decriminalisation of homosexuality, as well as constitutional amendments to legalise divorce and also to allow women certain limited rights to abortion. She also got to sign a bill freeing up the sale of contraceptives.

Then she suddenly pulled a Gracie Fields number on the people, heading off to New York with an unexpected burst of “wish me luck as you wave me goodbye”. Unexpected, at least, for the people who elected her, though it came as no surprise to those who’d known Mary Robinson from her early days as a fiercely ambitious go-getter. Well, go-getters gotta go where the action is.

In her case, that was the United Nations, where she spent the next five years as High Commissioner for Refugees berating the Americans for everything from retaining capital punishment to not doing enough on climate change. From there it was on to a globe-trotting career as all-round wise woman, dispensing platitudes to the little people from the exalted heights of numerous international conferences and aid organisations.

The Arab Democracy Foundation… the World Justice Project… the International Commission of Jurists — you name it, Mary’s on it. Those ponderous wet afternoons in the Aras, waiting for new diplomats to present their credentials, must seem like a distant memory.

She’s still at it, warning last week that the US risks becoming a “rogue country” if it pulls out of the Paris accord on climate change, despite the fact that it has cut its carbon emissions by a greater amount than virtue-signalling Europeans who think that signing treaties matters more than doing anything practical.

How ironic that she still seems blissfully incognisant that it is weariness at the over-confident, cocooned elite of busybodies of which she has been a lifelong member which resulted in the election of Donald Trump in the first place.

“Should we have a rethink about our condescending attitude?” one can see them wondering, before deciding: “Nah, let’s carry on as usual.”

This, though, is the woman to whom Ireland is to dedicate its first Presidential library, at a cost of more than €5m in public money, including €2m alone in tax relief for the Robinson family. There’s no library for the country’s first President, Douglas Hyde, or its longest serving, Eamon de Valera; nor for Patrick Hillery, the first and so far only President to publicly deny rumours that he’d installed a secret lover on the premises. If that isn’t worth at least one room of a presidential museum, what is?

What is it about Mrs Robinson then that makes her uniquely deserving of her own temple? That question needs an answer before more money is thrown at a vanity project which, as Prime Time reported last week, continues to attract controversy.

RTE reporter Fran McNulty raised some issues as to whether the archive can even qualify for these reliefs under current terms and conditions, which require that at least one item in the archive must be worth €50,000 or more. The programme also asked whether the house in Ballina where Mary Robinson was born (now owned by her brother, and has been pencilled in for purchase by Mayo Co Council as a location for the library) is in a state of repair that justifies its €660,000 price tag.

All that matters hugely; but Peadar Toibin, Sinn Fein’s spokesperson on Regional Development, Rural Affairs, Arts and the Gaeltacht, made a more important point on the show — that all previous Presidents donated their archives to the State without seeking any monetary compensation whatsoever.

If the sale of Robinson’s papers sets a precedent, does this mean that other and future politicians will start seeking to cash in on their material?

Toibin’s main concern seemed to be that former Taoiseach Bertie Ahern might be able to profit from similar arrangements — taking a pop at Fianna Fail leaders from the boom years is always a good populist move — but the same goes for any of them.

Retiring politicians already enjoy generous pensions, and are able to benefit from other opportunities as memoir writers, speech-makers and in business. Why should they expect their archives to count as personal assets too, rather than property which, morally speaking if not legally, should belong by right to the State? They only have these papers because of the position which they filled for a certain period in Ireland’s history.

Such high office should be regarded as a privilege that carries with it future responsibilities, not as a winning lotto ticket. And to be fair, all those who held the office previously did regard it that way.

Breaking this custom is what makes Mrs Robinson unique, rather than any great achievements. That, and upping sticks when a better offer came along. Those are certainly innovations. Whether for good or ill is another matter.

Perhaps Ireland should adopt the US tradition of establishing presidential libraries for former heads of state. The country’s slapdash attitude to its heritage was exposed by the then Government’s failure to buy Patrick Pearse’s final surrender letter for the bargain price of €50,000 in 2005. The letter was later sold for €800,000 and could fetch up to €1.5m next month at auction.

Regardless of any historical significance, this is the sort of economic genius which got us where we are today.

The bits and bobs that Mary has been storing in her attic or garage for the past 20 years, gathering dust, are hardly of an equal significance. She may be Ballina’s most famous daughter, but be honest, there isn’t much competition for that title.

Mayo Co Council is deluding itself if it believes a library in her honour would be a magnet for tourists. With so many unwilling emigrants forced to leave, lauding someone who couldn’t wait to get away is adding insult to injury.

‘What is it about Mrs Robinson that makes her deserving of her own temple?’