Now, we could begin to see just how widely the web of corruption in planning in Dublin had spread. Now, we could smell the inner workings of the system. There isn t much in life that s pretty if you hold it up too closely to the light but what was being revealed in Dublin Castle was especially dispiriting and degrading.
I guess most people in Dublin had some sense of what was going on in City Hall, over a period of years. Since the 60s, stories have circulated about prominent politicians using the planning process to enrich themselves, and their speculator friends. Land zoned as agricultural was bought cheap, in the knowledge that it would be rezoned for housing, and that it would increase in value by multiples of 30 and 40 and 50 as a result. With profits of that kind in the gift of those responsible for making decisions regarding the use for which particular parcels of land might be zoned, it was almost inevitable that attempts would be made to persuade them. And so it s probably true that everyone know that certain city and county councillors had been got at. What we didn t know, for sure, was just how pervasive the virus had become. Now we do.
Of course, there is a very real human drama being played out, and it s replete with all of the absurdities and incongruities that beset life itself. It was, in a bizarre way, almost poignant to hear the former government press secretary Frank Dunlop tell how, in the course of lobbying councillors, he gave #500 to one and #48,500 to another on the face of it, at least, to secure a single vote apiece on the same rezoning issue: somehow, deep inside somewhere, a morsel of pity for the councillor who accepted #500 rattled. Watching Dunlop himself, and his changing body language, was in its own way, strangely moving, too. Normally a cocky and confident figure, as his evidence wore on, Dunlop began to crumble. There is no pleasure in witnessing distress of this kind; I am sure that his family and others close to him are dying a thousand deaths. I wouldn t wish it on anyone. But it is vital nonetheless that we move beyond the culture of the brown paper bag in planning and development; that, hopefully, will be possible now, following Frank Dunlop s revelations, and the work of the Flood Tribunal in general.
It is to state the blindingly obvious to say that a climate in which planning favours could be bought should never have been given room to develop. But aside from the venal nature of the thing itself, it is inescapable that the effects of this kind of corruption have damaged the entire city to an enormous degree, and have damaged the people of the city as a result. When you consider the extent to which builders and developers were allowed to erect vast housing estates, and to leave them without shops, parks, play areas or any of the other amenities which are essential to the general well-being, then the extent of the betrayal involved by many of those elected to represent us at local government level becomes clear. All you have to do in Dublin city is to look up, at some of the ghastly monstrosities masquerading as buildings that were sanctioned in the 60s and 70s in particular, to realise just how insidious the effect is: the products of a system that had become poisoned are all around us, shadowing us everywhere we go.
There is another way in which the abuse of the system by councillors and developers was and is deeply damaging. Where money changes hands in this way, it isn t just that things which shouldn t get through the planning process are sanctioned; the reverse is also true. Good schemes which might be architecturally strong and socially desirable are refused, delayed or watered down because no favour is offered. And so, as a consequence of decisions that are manifestly arbitrary and unjust, developers and architects whose work might have a positive impact on the shape of the city find themselves frustrated, alienated and disillusioned. They lose work and money. The quality of architecture suffers. The quality of building suffers. And so on, in a downward spiral, the quality of life also suffers.
Knowing this, we must do whatever is necessary to ensure that the Flood Tribunal is a watershed. There is nothing wrong with lobbying it is the stuff of everyday life, that we try to organise support for our mad schemes and dreams. But a register of political lobbyists and who they represent is probably the only answer in a situation where the political process has been so badly tainted by the endeavours of at least some of those involved in the trade. The government must also move to end the funding of political parties or politicians by business interests: the fiction of the contribution towards covering electoral expenses represents a kind of blank cheque, and it has been used by politicians to disguise a multitude of unsavoury dealings. And finally, while there is no excuse whatsoever for soliciting or accepted bribes, it does seem crazy that councillors are not paid for the work they do. Give them a stipend, and we might get a better calibre of public representative coming through the ranks.
They say that the past is another country: well, we should put the focus now on ensuring that it is. Forget about the atavistic desire to string people up. What s most important is to put the culture of the brown paper bag behind us.
Dublin and Ireland will be a far better place in a few years time if we do.