Nobody has been the winner from the last fortnight's political events. And Irish politics is certainly the loser.
Bertie Ahern is obviously different from some other Fianna Fáil politicians who used politics, and indirectly elections, to enrich themselves.
So different that the public has clearly been reluctant to see him punished for the way he handled his personal finances when he was minister for finance in 1993 and 1994.
The result has been that the Progressive Democrats have torn themselves apart through indecision and the Opposition have felt that they would not have public support if they sought his resignation.
But the fact remains that in the very year, 1994, during which he was engaged in these impugned transactions he himself laid down in public in the Lowry case the principle that an undocumented loan must be treated as a gift, and by refusing to apply this principle to his own case, he has put himself in an indefensible position.
Moreover, by claiming on narrow legalistic grounds a right to accept a gift of money when a minister, he has fatally undermined what has always been seen as a fundamental principle of political probity in Ireland, as in the rest of northern Europe.
The damage unintentionally and carelessly done to standards in Irish public life by this muddying of the waters has in some ways been greater than if Bertie Ahern had in fact been visibly "on the make", like a number of his political colleagues in the 1980s and 1990s - for that would have led to a clear-cut outcome.
What has happened has now effectively deprived the Taoiseach of the capacity to undertake one of the most crucial duties of his office, that of ensuring that members of his Government observe high standards of public probity.
I know from personal experience how onerous, and at times deeply unpleasant, that particular role can be. For, on one occasion, its exercise required me as taoiseach to lose a junior minister because he had made the thoughtless mistake of being present at, although not participating in, a board meeting of a company in which he had an interest, whilst it discussed a government grant.
I have never ceased to regret the hurt and damage that my action caused to a decent politician, but I believed then, and believe now, that standards in public life must not only be, but must also be seen to be, rigorously upheld, whatever the personal consequences.
Unpopular though it may be to say so, the root of the persistent problems with political integrity that we have faced in recent decades lies in the relative insensitivity of the Irish electorate to inappropriate financial behaviour by its elected politicians.
No matter how honest most politicians may be, it is bound to be very difficult for them to maintain high standards in political life if the public visibly attaches little importance to this issue - and especially when a local electorate rewards, with triumphant re-election to parliament, a politician who breaks the rules.
The nature and extent of the problems crested by low financial standards among a disturbingly large part of our electorate has been evident in the extraordinary scale of tax evasion revealed in recent years - mainly, it has to be said, amongst members of the self-employed middle class.
As tables of fresh defaulters are published each quarter, this problem can be seen to be mainly a rural one, for seven out of eight of the cases in each of these "shame lists" have addresses outside Dublin.
It is difficult to avoid the conclusion that much of the rural middle class have continued to persuade themselves that our almost century-old democratic government system is still an alien regime, centred in a colonial capital, Dublin, and that they are accordingly entitled to ignore the tax laws passed by the Oireachtas.
When our State was founded the corruption that had crept into the local government system established in 1898 was vigorously tackled by the leaders of our first administration.
The creation of the Local Appointments Commission was particularly important, for it put an end to a not uncommon practice of paying bribes totalling up to €50,000 or more in today's purchasing power in order to secure appointment to a lucrative post in the local government service.
By the end of the 1930s local government had been largely cleaned up - a process which Fianna Fáil further pursued after they came to office in 1932.
Most unhappily, the strict limitations imposed in the 1920s and 1930s upon the power of local councils to take decisions that might be influenced by interested parties bribing their members were radically modified in 1963, when councils were given a key role in physical planning decisions at local level.
Given the hundreds of millions that builders and developers might gain from some of these decisions, this re-opened a huge can of worms, subsequently re-introducing corruption to Irish local politics.
What has made this situation particularly difficult to deal with in recent times has been the emergence of a new and little-noticed feature in Irish politics since the 1970s.
It used to be the case that political parties were responsible both at national and constituency level for election spending. Candidates had no role in this process - and if occasionally a candidate was tempted to try to secure an advantage vis-a-vis a party colleague by spending his own money on personal publicity, he was soon brought to heel.
But since the 1980s, discipline of this kind seems to have broken down completely in both the main parties. Their candidates are now allowed, sometimes even encouraged, to run their own personal campaigns - for which, of course, they need money. Perhaps as a result of this, the former absolute constraints on accepting money from potential beneficiaries of local and even national government decisions seem to have disappeared.
It was once unthinkable for any honest politician to accept money from a developer or builder, or anyone else, who might benefit from a local authority decision.
But in recent times not alone has the bribing of local politicians become a widespread practice, but some perfectly honest politicians have been so unwise and foolish as to put their personal reputations at risk by also accepting such payments without any question of their being influenced in subsequent council votes by such political contributions.
How in these circumstances is the Mahon tribunal to decide who has and has not accepted a bribe?
If trust in Irish politicians is ever to be restored, some political party or parties will have to commit to clearing up this mess by making an unqualified commitment to free politics and politicians once and for all from the dangers of corrupt business influence through financial donations and from the consequent temptation to monetary misfeasance. This will probably require that in future political parties, and elections, be financed exclusively by the State.