IN THE heydays of Taca Fail, the first great political money harvesting machine in Ireland, a Labour TD, Sean Dunne, engaged in a surreal exercise in linguistic analysis in the Dail, seeking to elaborate the meaning of the organisation's title. With the aid of Dineen's dictionary of the Irish language, he pointed out that Taca means "a peg, pin or nail an item of rigging, a fastening, a foothold, security, one who can be relied on to do a thing". Fail, he found, means "a hedge, a dead hedge, a protection, a paling or wall, bed clothes, a covering, a circle, a fold, a pound a barrier, a legal bar, an obstacle".
Taca Fail could have, therefore, a variety of meanings, from a foothold in a dead hedge, to a nail in the bed clothes, to a person who can be relied on to do a thing for a pound.
I was reminded of that exercise by this week's goings on in that dark corner of existence where politics and business overlap. Not, of course, that any politician nowadays could be relied on to do anything for a pound, but because the subject is still surrounded by absurdity and obscurity.
There is something almost endearingly eccentric about the mechanism for revealing the names listed in the Price Waterhouse report on donations by Dunnes Stores to people in public life. A judge poring over the pages in an eyrie in Dublin Castle. Polite requests to people whose names are listed to appear before a committee that has no power to compel witnesses or documents, and where they will be questioned by people who have not themselves seen the full report.
It is, of course, possible that this cross between the search for the philosopher's stone and the trial scene in Alice in Wonderland will produce the goods, but is also possible that it will reveal as much about the relationship between big business and politics as might be garnered from a scrutiny of Dineen's dictionary.
Either way, it is hard to think of a method of dealing with the report less likely to convince a deeply sceptical public that the parties, who have miraculously cleared debts of £4.5 million since 1992, are now anxious to lift the stone of silence and reveal what may be underneath.
The fact is that much of what has happened in the last week has deepened, rather than alleviated, concerns about the funding of political parties. Take Fine Gael's disclosures. We now know that John Bruton personally solicited donations from Ben Dunne and from other people, and that the party received £180,000 from Dunnes between 1987 and 1993.
One of the contributions that resulted from Mr Bruton's personal solicitation - £50,000 - was made in 1992. Now, in June 1992, John Bruton gave evidence to the beef tribunal and was asked about political contributions in general.
I am sure he had no intention to mislead, but his replies did not give the impression that he was, as party leader, at that time, personally soliciting contributions from wealthy businessmen. The impression was, rather, that such matters were dealt with by a party official.
The tribunal received a letter from Fine Gael in response to its queries telling it: "Matters of fundraising and financial contributions to the party are currently dealt with, and indeed have been dealt with since the early 1980s, by one of the trustees of Fine Gael, Mr Sean Murray, and while other members or officers of the party might have a limited amount of information on such matters, only the aforementioned trustee, Mr Sean Murray, can deal authoritatively and effectively with queries." Mr Bruton described this letter as "correct".
In his own direct evidence, Mr Bruton was asked: "Are you as leader, or other politicians within your party, made aware of the particular political contributions made by a company or person?"
He replied: "No. Now, that is not to say that one might not on a random basis become aware of contributions that are made by particular individuals but there is no systematic informing of politicians of contributions, and in fact my understanding is that it has always been the case that this particular trustee doesn't disclose the information to anybody as a general rule, not even the party leader of the time."
LATER, Mr Bruton was asked by his own counsel whether he personally received contributions "at election times or at later times". He replied: "It was at election time. And these contributions were not sought by me at all, entirely unsolicited, but people would just make contributions which would be used towards the local campaign, or passed on to party headquarters, depending."
It seems to me that a reasonable person would have concluded:
(a) that John Bruton, as leader of Fine Gael, would not, in general, learn of financial contributions, and that if he did so at all, it would be only on a random basis;
(b) that John Bruton received contributions only at election time; and
(c) that John Bruton did not personally solicit contributions.
We learned last week:
(a) that John Bruton, as leader of Fine Gael, dealt personally with an unspecified number of wealthy individuals and must have known on a far from random basis whether those individuals did or did not make contributions to the party;
(b) that John Bruton secured some contributions for his party other than at election times; and
(c) that John Bruton personally solicited contributions from an unspecified number of individuals or companies.
I don't believe that John Bruton intended to conceal these facts in 1992, but the fact is that they could not possibly have been deduced from his evidence. As far as the public record up to the early hours of Thursday morning last week was concerned, the leaders of great political parties did not go around asking fat cats for a lick of their cream.
Now that the public record has been changed, every shred of justification for the old system has been torn away. The niceties of silent trustees and unknowing politicians have dissolved and we are left with the naked and rather humiliating picture of very senior politicians tapping private individuals for money.
If politicians are serious about restoring public confidence, then they must realise that a byzantine examination of the Price Waterhouse report and a deeply inadequate Electoral Bill have no chance of doing the job. The public has a right to know, not just what the Price Waterhouse report says, but who paid off over £4 million in debts for Fianna Fail and Fine Gael since 1992.
If it's OK for the parties to name Dunnes Stores when the pressure is on, why is not OK to name donors who contributed more than £4,000 in the same period? And if the aim of the Electoral Bill is, as we are told, effectively to prevent the donation of large sums of money to political parties by forcing the disclosure of such donations, why not prohibit such donations altogether?