The week beginning July 14th last was a ferociously busy time for Tony Blair. He was under huge pressure over the failure to find weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. The tragedy of Dr David Kelly was beginning to move towards its grim conclusion, as the phoney war between Blair and the BBC spun out of control. Blair that week was the John Cleese of world politics, manic and ubiquitous.
On the Monday, he met Ariel Sharon in London. On the Wednesday, he answered parliamentary questions at Westminster. On the Thursday, he flew out to Washington for one of his biggest moments, becoming only the fourth British prime minister in history to address a joint session of the US Congress.
After just over six hours in Washington, he was in the air again, flying to Tokyo to begin a tour of the Far East, taking in Japan and South Korea and with three stops in China: Beijing, Shanghai and Hong Kong.
Right in the middle of this, some time on the Wednesday, Tony Blair took the time to write to Patsy Gallagher. She had written to him on July 3rd, on behalf of the relatives of the Omagh bomb victims, asking him to attend the fifth anniversary commemoration of the atrocity. Blair wasn't going to go. He knew he would be away on his holidays, but at least his brush-off was personal, courteous and expressed in words that acknowledged the feelings of the families.
The letter begins with "Dear Mrs Gallagher" in Blair's handwriting. It then says in type: "I was very moved by your letter of 3 July. Each day must bring painful memories to you and all those bereaved but these memories must be especially painful as the anniversary of that dreadful day approaches. I regret that I will be unable to attend the fifth anniversary next month. However, I have asked Jane Kennedy, Minister of State, to go in my place. My thoughts will be with you and with all those bereaved and injured in the Omagh bombing."
Then, in Blair's handwriting again, are the lines "I am very sorry I can't be with you. Yours sincerely, Tony Blair."
A cynic might call the impeccable composition of this letter spinning, since it delivers bad news in the most acceptable possible form. Yet even if it is spinning, it is also good manners. That Blair made the effort to have the right words found for him shows that he had some sense of how a prime minister should behave.
In contrast to Tony Blair, Bertie Ahern had a quiet July. The Dáil went into recess on July 3rd, the day Mrs Gallagher sent him the same invitation she had sent to Tony Blair. He had a few official functions to perform: the launch of the UNDP Human Development Report the following week, a plenary meeting with the social partners the week after. But the slow days of summer set in early and he had plenty of time to devote to the plans for That Wedding.
On July 29th, he spent the day at Galway Races, schmoozing with builders and businessmen, raking in the money at the Fianna Fáil tent. His eventual reply to the Omagh families is dated the following day.
The letter says: "Dear Mrs Gallagher, The Taoiseach, Mr Bertie Ahern TD, has asked me to refer to your invitation to attend the 5th Anniversary of the Omagh Bombing on Friday, 15 August, in the Memoriam Garden in Omagh. While the Taoiseach very much appreciates your thoughtfulness in extending this invitation to him, unfortunately, he regrets that he is not in a position to accept as he will be away during that time. Yours sincerely, Lorraine Dunne, Appointments Secretary."
Tony Blair and Bertie Ahern were in exactly the same position in relation to the Omagh anniversary ceremonial: both would be on their holidays. This is fair enough. Even if the Taoiseach knew he was going to be in Donegal and could have been down and back to Omagh by helicopter in two hours, he can't be blamed for not wanting to interrupt his break for what would clearly have been a distressing occasion.
Yet while Blair managed an apparently heartfelt personal message of sympathy, Bertie simply couldn't be bothered. A third-person brush-off from a minion, without even the Taoiseach's signature and no mention of sending anyone in his place, was good enough for the victims of the worst atrocity of the Troubles. Only on Thursday evening, after queries from the media, were the Omagh families informed that the Taoiseach's brother Noel would attend the ceremony.
When we remember that this is the same Bertie Ahern whose place in history was secured by his superb work on the Belfast Agreement and whose personal fortitude in carrying on with the negotiations in spite of his own mother's death moved us all so deeply, we have to wonder how power operates in Ireland.
Why does an apparently sincere but at least personally skilful man become, after six years in power, a clumsy oaf, treating traumatised victims like bothersome peasants at the gates of the manor? It seems in his case not so much that power corrupts, but that it washes out all vestiges of courtesy and refinement, of decency and good manners and leaves a tired and cynical operator.