A historical suspicion of 'informers' means Irish people are apprehensive about making official complaints, writes Elaine Byrne
'INFORMER! A HORROR to be understood fully only by an Irish mind" wrote Liam O'Flaherty in The Informer, published in 1925. The book depicted Gypo, the central character, as a turncoat who takes blood money for betraying his friend Francis McPhillip.
Resistance to informing on wrongdoing may be attributed to an historically entrenched fear of being branded as a traitor. In our recent history, the consequences for those who collaborated with State authorities included death, torture and exile.
The RTÉ 1 television programme Whistleblower dramatised the Lourdes hospital inquiry earlier this week. The programme highlighted the courage of a junior midwife who blew the whistle on Dr Michael Neary's irregular obstetric practices. That the programme was entitled Whistleblower rather than Informer is a measure of how attitudes have changed.
Adverse attitudes to informers are not unique to Ireland. When I worked at the United Nations anti-corruption unit, the term whistleblower often proved problematic because of its negative connotations within different cultures. Article 33 of the UN Convention Against Corruption intentionally refers to the "protection of reporting persons" rather than whistleblowers.
Whatever we like to call it, Irish people remain apprehensive when it comes to complaining formally. Just 49 of the 141 complaints made to the Standards in Public Office Commission from 1997-2007 were valid. In their 2007 annual report, the commission acknowledged that the number of complaints "remains relatively low."
Apparently, the public are largely confident that office holders, special advisers, and directors and employees of public bodies have not contravened the Ethics Acts or codes of conduct when it comes to their disclosure of interest and conflict-of-interest declarations. The commission's request for an inquiry officer to conduct a preliminary examination where no complaint has been received has been rejected by the Minister for Finance.
The Government abandoned the Whistleblowers' Protection Bill in 2006 in favour of a "sectoral approach". The OECD and the Council of Europe body, the Group of States against Corruption (Greco), have criticised the Government's failure to introduce legislation which would protect public officials who report wrongdoing.
In May this year, the Director of Corporate Enforcement, Paul Appleby, drew attention to the absence of legislative provisions to facilitate whistleblowers within company law. He said: "I would like to see a whistleblowing provision included in the forthcoming Companies Consolidation and Reform Bill."
Reacting to the 2004 Morris tribunal findings, the then minister for justice Michael McDowell described Garda non-co-operation as a "hedgehog culture", where gardaí feel loyalty primarily to their colleagues and co-operation is withheld from internal Garda inquiries. Positive developments have taken place within Garda structures. In March this year, Brian McCarthy, former secretary general to the President, was appointed to take charge of a confidential reporting system or "whistleblowers' unit" within the Garda Síochána.
Legislation facilitating whistleblowing within the public, private and political spheres is one thing. A mind-set which accepts and embraces the exposure of wrongdoing is another entirely. In the Whistleblower programme, when one nurse learns of Dr Neary's suspension she proclaims: "Disloyalty! What a disgrace. Who reported it?"
This is a recurring theme in Irish life. The focus shifts to those who made the allegations and not the allegations themselves. Misplaced loyalty is granted virtuous priority above all other considerations. Recent inquiries have exposed an institutional culture of inertia and secrecy which tolerated and condoned illegal and immoral behaviour. In the past, authority was categorically respected without question. It was easier to believe in authority than to take personal responsibility to seek the truth out for ourselves. The implications of revealing such truths can be professionally and personally costly.
Fr Gerard McGinnity was removed as senior dean at St Patrick's College Maynooth in 1984 when he tried to draw the attention of its bishop trustees to seminarians' concerns about the behaviour of then college vice-president Micheál Ledwith.
Susan O'Keeffe was charged with contempt of court for refusing to name her sources to the Beef tribunal following her 1991 World in Action documentary which led to the establishment of the tribunal.
Sheenagh McMahon experienced devastating personal repercussions when she revealed in 1999 that her husband, Det Garda Noel McMahon, had planted homemade explosives, later claiming them as significant IRA explosives finds. This led to the establishment of the Morris tribunal.
Judge Maureen Harding Clark noted in her 2006 Lourdes Hospital Inquiry Report the resentment towards the four nurses who exposed the systemic wrongs in Drogheda: "We heard of comments to the effect that the whistleblowers would never get a job in Ireland, that they would be sued for defamation and would generally come to a bad end." Judge Harding Clark listed 11 categories of people who did not complain about Dr Neary's actions and remarked that "No one made a formal complaint and no one questioned openly."
Those that did complain have traditionally been condemned as informers by Irish society, rather than commended for their acts of citizenship.