He broke no law, but Golfgate judge is still in the rough
THERE were two storms that week in August. The first, Ellen, hit the entire country and left 200,000 without power. The second, much more localised and centred over Clifden in Co. Galway, left a handful of people without power too, albeit of a different kind.
It was, in many ways, the perfect storm. Five months into severe restrictions on personal freedom of movement, from the original total lockdown to the fact Offaly, Kildare and Laois were in another, it also was the week so- called wet pubs that had been due to reopen instead were told to keep their doors locked.
With indoor hotel gatherings restricted to just 50 people, including staff, we found out that 81 guests attended a dinner at the Station House Hotel after an Oireachtas Golf Society outing. When the names of those on the guest list came out, the spectre of the Galway tent hovered in the air – it seemed like the Golden Circle had been reincarnated, Buddhist-style, and transferred just 25km west.
And, of course, it involved golf. Pejoratively, and very unfairly given the huge number of working men and women who enjoy the exercise and the fresh air, the game has become emblematic of a certain class – the 19th hole, in the minds of many, is where the deals are done with a nod to the old school tie, when the rugby injuries finally take their toll.
Added to the mix was the fact that following the July sacking of Barry Cowen as Minister for Agriculture over an undisclosed drink-drive conviction four years ago, he was replaced by Dara Calleary, who was at the dinner and promptly resigned.
Furore
RTÉ cancelled plans for future projects with retired broadcaster Seán O’Rourke. European Commissioner for Trade Phil Hogan tried to weather the f urore but scuppered himself by not providing a full account of his movements, and ended up resigning too.
Driven by social media, the story of Golfgate endured for weeks, but the mob always moves on – one month’s Galway golf outing is next month’s Galway student carousing, and very soon, another perceived outrage will occupy t he minds of the social media Covid Stasi, sitting in j udgement on all but themselves.
I used the word judgement advisedly, because the other very high-profile attendee was Séamus Woulfe, the former Attorney General appointed with what seemed like some haste to the Supreme Court in July. Mr Justice Woulfe released a statement on August 21, two days after the dinner, stating that he was not aware there would be a dinner until the day in question, and he was assured it would be held within the guidelines – guidelines t o which he hi mself had given certain legal effects while serving as AG.
‘I would never disregard governmental or health authorities’ advice regarding public health, and have been at pains to follow rules and guidelines since their introduction in March,’ he said.
‘That I ended up in a situation where breaches may have occurred is of great regret to me, and for which I am sorry. I unreservedly apologise.’ Nonetheless, to the general public, it appeared there was a deficit in the statement. Justice Woulfe has eyes, so did he not have an inkling that that despite assurances to the contrary, the event indeed was in contravention of the guidelines?
This is a man who will someday rule on the Jesuitical parts of the law, who will interpret the Constitution that is the bedrock on which that law must solidly stand, yet he showed judgement that evening that was at the very least questionable.
Former Chief Justice Susan Denham was engaged to compile a report on Justice Woulfe, and when it was published yesterday, it was remarkable more for its tone than its content. She found that Séamus Woulfe broke no l aws and did not knowingly breach any guidelines, and that his attendance at the dinner did not undermine the separation of powers between the legislature and the judiciary. She nonetheless concluded that he failed to consider how the attendance of a Supreme Court judge at a celebratory dinner in a public place in the middle of a pandemic might be an i mpropriety or might create the appearance of an impropriety to reasonable members of the public.
Many believed she would cut off his head, but she did not do so – only a fool, though, would not realise she has left a significant wound. The Supreme Court is, by its nature, arcane and aloof, and Susan Denham herself observed very strict separation from the actual wheels of government. I cannot ascribe any feelings to her personally, but the integrity of the highest court in the land is sacrosanct to all appointed to it, and one would have to think there is a certain horror among all who serve and served in it to see it dragged into a controversy over something so ludicrously plebian as a golf outing and a bit of grub.
Noting that Justice Woulfe hadnot yet been through a formal induction in the ways of the Supreme Court, she observed – in a rather delicious turn of phrase – that his ‘vigilance was not yet honed into the Judicial sphere’. Again, I take her words exactly as written, but I must confess to laughing aloud at the sheer elegance of the put-down. In conclusion, she decided that if he were to resign, it would be ‘unjust and disproportionate’, but in fact what her summation does is l eave him back in the bunker with a headless sand wedge.
Quite simply, a reasonable person might conclude from reading the report that Justice Woulfe showed a lack of judgement – and since an impeccable gift for judgement really is pretty much all that’s needed on the CV of anyone wishing to be, well, a judge, the report is damning, however obliquely.
Ironically, since many Constitutional rights to do something also confer equal and opposite rights not to do so, it also raises another question – were the resignations of Dara Calleary and Phil Hogan just and appropriate? Mr Calleary apologised straight away but still fell on his seven iron.
Apology
Mr Hogan might have got away with it by offering a more convincing apology and accounting in full for his movements while in Ireland, rather than leaving it to the Garda Síochána to reveal he had been stopped for using his mobile phone while driving – and journalists from finding out he had made an undisclosed visit to Roscommon, as well as confirmed trips to Dublin, Kildare, Kilkenny, Limerick and, of course, Galway.
An EU Commissioner surely has the right to travel freely within the Union for work purposes, and easily can be monitored and tested for Covid, and that was a card he could have played. As I wrote at the time, his mistake was not so much to attend the dinner but to lose the facts in fudge, and he rightly was held accountable.
The price Ireland paid, though, was high, losing the European Commission Trade portfolio on the eve of Brexit, a consequence t hat caused some glee in the halls of the Palace of Westminster.
As for Justice Woulfe, well, he has survived, but he is wounded. What if he has to rule on a case with similarities to his own actions, even i f they broke no laws?
It often is said that the political is personal – we expect at least as much of the judicial.