Miriam Lord: The book according to Comrade Cardiff

Former senior civil servant tells Joe Higgins he’s now more a socialist than he used to be

Former department of finance secretary-general Kevin Cardiff arriving at the Oireachtas banking inquiry in Leinster House yesterday. Photograh: Gareth Chaney/Collins

Comrade Cardiff arrived at Leinster House dragging a suitcase behind him. Just off the plane from Luxembourg, perhaps?

He’s a big noise now in the European Court of Auditors. Maybe he had just cashed his salary cheque.

It was a large suitcase.

Since leaving the post-crash public Ireland behind and taking himself and his enormous pension off to the continent, Comrade Cardiff reckons: “I’ve probably become more of a socialist over the last few years than I used to be.”

READ MORE

Kevin Cardiff directed this remark to Joe Higgins, shining light of the Anti Austerity Alliance and the leader of the Socialist Party.

A bewildered-looking Joe was last seen wandering aimlessly in the vicinity of Kildare Street, scratching his head and muttering over and over again: “Than he used it be? Used to be?”

That sturdy metal case could also have contained the complete canon of Cardiff’s scribblings. The former secretary general of the Department of Finance told the banking committee that he was a great man for writing things in jotters. This must have been of great assistance to him when he compiled his written statement.

There seems to be a dearth of documentary evidence from the various meetings that led up to the bank bailout. But Comrade Cardiff is not found wanting in this regard.

“I seem to have been the only person with a pen,” he sighed.

The committee was more interested in finding out if there had also been a person with a shredder.

But Kevin couldn’t help them out there.

Since embracing the doctrine of socialism even closer to his superannuated bosom, Comrade C has had plenty of time to think about the bailout escapade, and his part in it. He has also had lots of time to consider what he might say to the Oireachtas banking inquiry, which continues to trundle along in its windowless room in a Leinster House basement.

The acoustics are terrible. Shane Ross came in for a look and left because he could only hear half of what was going on. In a way, Shane was experiencing what it’s like to be an inquiry witnesses. At the best, most only seem to know half of what was going on back in 2008.

The only bit of excitement is when a mobile phone goes off.

We did our best.

The chairman showed us a “yellow card”.

Next time, we’ll be in with a ghetto blaster to ensure the red.

But back to Cardiff. The former mandarin couldn’t wait for his chance to get before the TDs and Senators and tell his side of the story.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” he announced upon his arrival, radiating bonhomie.

Speak for yourself, Kevin.

Which he did. First, with that written statement, bulky as the width of a large metal suitcase. At one stage he referred to it as “the book”.

The book was a bit of a disappointment. Not because of the contents, but because they were leaked to the Sunday Business Post last week. Kevin said he had been working on it since Christmas.

When it came to answering questions, Comrade Cardiff (Court of Auditors, Socialist Wing) was also happy to hold forth at length.

Relaxed witnesses have been a feature of this inquiry. Not a bother on most of them – they’ll never have to worry about scraping together the bus fare home.

Curious scene

Kevin cleared up some issues. Like that curious scene on guarantee night when two of the top men in the NTMA were called into Government Buildings and then left outside the critical decision-making meeting.

Four hours cooling their heels in an adjoining room, only to be asked a question on a peripheral issue.

“Okay. Just to be clear” said the former finance boss. “Waiting for four hours for a minister is not an unusual event for a public servant.”

Chairman Ciarán Lynch (he’s probably had some experience of this as a lowly backbencher) didn’t disagree, but the NTMA “is the nation’s banker”. Surely that counted for something?

“I was the second secretary general in the department of finance and I’ve often waited four hours for a minister, I can tell you,” came the tart reply.

How dare they.

The witness was adamant that the two main banks came to the meeting with their own draft guarantee – one they prepared earlier. Not so, they insist.

But Comrade Cardiff explained he once studied “in a psychology course with a woman who was the world’s leading expert on witness testimony” and she explained “how bad witnesses tend to be”.

They are unreliable for a number of reasons – not usually dishonest, but mainly to do with the passage of time.

“I read 50 papers on this,” he said, modestly.

When the auditing gig finishes and Kevin is faced with subsisting on his pensions, he could always go into crime writing.

In fairness, a couple of workaday guys running two major banks might easily overlook drafting such a forgettable document of monumental national importance, over time.

Kevin, on the other hand, is crystal clear.

“My story about going to the taoiseach and saying: ‘This draft doesn’t work’ – it’s a very specific story.” So it’s unlikely he was inventing anything, “which I’m not”. He rested his case.

Contradicting evidence

Cardiff, with the practised skill of a departmental Sir Humphrey, had a way of gently contradicting evidence given by others while simultaneously advancing a reason why they were, in all innocence, completely wrong.

He considered the claims in some quarters that finance minister Brian Lenihan was overruled by taoiseach Brian Cowen on the question of nationalising Anglo Irish Bank.

“They had a meeting that I wasn’t in, so I don’t know what happened. I can only tell you what the minister said, and he didn’t put it in the form of overruling.” That word wasn’t used.

So this left the question hanging: was there another?

Then there were the various banking and business luminaries who came forward to urge the government to consider a guarantee.

This started long before the crisis days under examination yesterday. Lots of them felt free to ring up with advice, apparently.

“There was a sort of a way of doing it; people would sort of ring you up and say: ‘My name is X, I’m a high-powered executive in such-and- such a bank with a very big name and, sure look, if you need any help, not saying you do, but if you need any help you know where we are’.”

But be assured, they never influenced anyone in government.

Thank God for that.