One can disagree with Costello’s actions, but he cannot be accused of inconsistency—unlike, for instance, Noël Browne, whose public stance in the Dáil, when he accepted the ruling of the bishops, differed from his later position. Costello may well have been wrong, but he was acting out of principle, principle he adhered to throughout his life.
There have been suggestions that Costello was a member of the secretive, ultra-Catholic organisation the Knights of Columbanus. Evelyn Bolster, the historian of the Knights, claimed that Costello, along with Seán T. O’Kelly, was a member of the Columbians, an offshoot of the Ancient Order of Hibernians which merged with the Knights in the 1920s. But, importantly, she did not suggest that he was a member of the Knights while Taoiseach. In fact, she named the members of the organisation who were in Cabinet as Mulcahy, MacEoin, Norton and Blowick.8
The new Taoiseach’s obsequious attitude to McQuaid is well demonstrated in their correspondence. While Costello was usually polite in letters, the tone he adopted with McQuaid was of quite a different order. Replying to an invitation to a special Mass to celebrate the anniversary of the Pope’s coronation, Costello wrote, “I accept the invitation as I am sure will each member of the Government to whom I will have it immediately conveyed.” Acceptance of a similar invitation the following year was “not merely our duty but a privilege”. It is important to note that McQuaid occupied a more exalted position than other churchmen. When Cardinal Griffin of Westminster wrote to the Taoiseach seeking a grant for the Irish Centre in Kilburn, Costello immediately sought McQuaid’s advice. McQuaid noted the Cardinal’s proposal to have the centre “open to all denominations”, a development he evidently viewed with concern.9 This was enough to kill the initiative from Costello’s point of view.
The Government’s ostentatious Catholicism was not just for home consumption; in November 1949, MacBride stressed the importance of ministerial pilgrimages to Rome during the Holy Year of 1950. In particular, he considered it “essential that the Taoiseach … should pay an official visit to Rome … in the middle of the month of January … as a means of encouraging other Catholic Governments to follow the Irish example”. Costello duly travelled to Rome in January, accompanied by his wife, Ida, and two of his children, Declan and Eavan (whose travelling expenses he paid). During his visit, he met Monsignor Giovanni Montini, the future Pope Paul VI.10 On a later trip commemorating the fourteenth centenary of Columbanus’s birth he met Archbishop Angelo Roncalli, later Pope John XXIII. This occasion saw Costello, MacBride and de Valera united, with McQuaid, in a celebration that saw 20,000 pilgrims converging on Luxeuil in the French Alps.11
As was only natural in a graduate of the National University of his era, Costello was suspicious of Trinity College—in fact, he was also suspicious of the only Trinity graduate in the Cabinet, Noël Browne.12 His attitude towards Protestants has already been noted in the introduction. This of course was before the ecumenical era, a period when Catholics were forbidden to enter Protestant churches, never mind Trinity College. This caused difficulty at the funeral of former President Douglas Hyde, where the Cabinet waited outside St Patrick’s Cathedral rather than attending the service. Poet Austin Clarke, who did go inside along with at least one other Catholic, the French Ambassador, scornfully depicted
Costello, his cabinet
In Government cars, hiding
Around the corner, ready
Tall hat in hand.13
Given the prevailing attitude, it is not perhaps surprising that the bishops didn’t just expect deference from politicians; they expected submission. In December 1948 Noël Browne wrote a perfectly polite letter to Archbishop Joseph Walsh of Tuam, explaining that he didn’t want Castlebar Hospital to be entirely staffed by nursing sisters, as it was to be a training centre and he wanted to provide promotional opportunities for lay nurses to discourage emigration to England. But he respectfully added that in other circumstances and other hospitals “I would be delighted to see an all-religious staff.”14
This innocuous reply led to a vicious response from the hierarchy, directed to Costello rather than to Browne. Having drawn attention to the fact that the Minister was a Trinity graduate (no more needed to be said, evidently), the letter accused him of seeking to impose conditions which would effectively exclude religious from nursing or supervisory positions in regional hospitals. “We protest against the Minister’s action as a slight on the religious vocation and as savouring of secularism.”15 Costello’s handwritten reply regretted that Browne’s letter “should have been interpreted in such a way as to cause misgivings in the minds of the Irish Hierarchy”, stated that “any policy savouring of unfair discrimination against religious sisters … is something that was never intended and which it is our fixed determination to avoid”, and promised to continue to use the services of the sisters.16 This response indicates why the bishops expected immediate capitulation from Browne over the Mother and Child Scheme: it was what they were used to.
One example of a policy that was effectively dictated by McQuaid was on adoption. Costello had supported the introduction of legal adoption during the 1948 election campaign; but in office things were different. Justice Minister Seán MacEoin told the Taoiseach that he had concluded “that it would be extremely difficult to frame a practical proposal that would not be likely to lead to a very undesirable controversy”.17 MacEoin didn’t specify the source of the “undesirable controversy” and denied at a meeting of the Fine Gael parliamentary party that opposition was coming from the Church.18
But others believed differently. James Dillon recalled MacEoin telling the Cabinet after consulting McQuaid on proposed adoption legislation that “he won’t have it!” As far as MacEoin was concerned, that was the end to the matter. Dillon, with evident disapproval, noted of his colleague, “It would never have occurred to him to cross the Archbishop.”19 Patrick Lynch described MacEoin as “greatly influenced by the Church, by the Knights of Columbanus. Reactionary in all his views, a most conservative Catholic … He was the spokesman for the Hierarchy at the Cabinet table.”20 Those conservative views were reflected in MacEoin’s account of a visit to Spain: “I met a Christian gentleman in General Franco, and I could see why my colleague General O’Duffy rip (who was my best man at my wedding in Longford) was prepared to support him in his efforts to break the Communistic Red Government of Spain.”21
MacEoin was eager to follow Catholic principles in his Department. After the Vatican requested an amnesty for prisoners to mark the 1950 Holy Year, MacEoin recommended to his colleagues a remission of one-quarter of all sentences. He acknowledged that this might be seen as excessive, but pointed out “that the Vatican have asked for a significant gesture”. This appeared to be a clinching argument for him, but the Cabinet disagreed, finally approving a maximum remission of three months for lesser offences and six months for those sentenced to penal servitude.22
After he moved to the Department of Defence, he approved (without consulting the Cabinet) a proposal by the head chaplain of the Army that the Defence Forces should be dedicated to “Our Lady, Queen of the Most Holy Rosary”. After the change of government, de Valera raised concerns about “giving to citizens belonging to non-Catholic denominations grounds for feeling offence to their conscience”. It was agreed to call the ceremony an invocation rather than a dedication, and that non-Catholic members of the Defence Forces would not be compelled to attend the ceremonies. The invocation went ahead in October 1951.23
Dillon himself was a staunch Catholic, but as his biographer points out, “he also had a very clear sense of the boundary between politics and religion: he would not have been his father’s son if he had not”.24 Patrick Lynch recalled Dillon giving Noël Browne the benefit of his insights into the way the Church operated. “My family have been identified with politics for a very long time, and we know how the Black Brigade works. Never challenge the Black Brigade on an issue of principle. That’s the mistake you are making Noël, if you approach them with practical prop
osals you can’t lose.”25 Dillon disapproved both of MacEoin’s supine attitude on adoption and Browne’s confrontational approach to the Mother and Child scheme.
When the crisis broke, Browne believed that he could appeal to public opinion, and he had good grounds for this belief, after three successful years in the Department of Health, particularly in tackling TB. He arrived in the Custom House at a good time—plans for improving the treatment of TB had been put in place by Fianna Fáil, new drugs were coming on stream, and MacBride had insisted on the provision of funding from the Hospital Sweepstakes for capital investment in health. But he also brought to the job a crusading zeal, and an enthusiasm for publicity which broke down social taboos about the disease. By 1950, the number of TB deaths had fallen to 2,353, the lowest ever recorded at that time, compared to an annual average of 3,649 in the previous decade. He had also overseen the provision of 7,000 new hospital beds, the Cancer Council, the Blood Transfusion Service, the National Rehabilitation Organisation, and BCG inoculation. But the Mother and Child Scheme was to prove a step too far.
The roots of the scheme lay in the 1945 Health Bill, which after extensive amendment became the Health Act of 1947. In October of that year, Bishop James Staunton wrote to de Valera on behalf of the hierarchy, raising concerns about the Health Act and the powers it gave to the Minister. The hierarchy believed these powers interfered with the rights of “the individual person, the family, the professions and voluntary institutions”. Interestingly, it did not mention the absence of a means test, but concentrated on the powers to detain people who were a probable source of infection, the sections dealing with health education, and the requirement on doctors to notify certain diseases.26
The letter and memorandum were read out to the Cabinet. De Valera then asked his Minister for Health, Dr Jim Ryan, to look into the points raised. Ryan prepared a memorandum, which pointed out that ministers tended to put more powers than they intended to use into legislation, in order to avoid court challenge, and that many Acts could be said to “enable them to violate Catholic principles”. But in practice, these powers had not been abused, so there was no reason to fear the Health Act. De Valera was not impressed with this argument, saying he would not transmit Ryan’s memorandum as it stood, as it required “considerable revision”. He eventually sent a version of the memorandum to Staunton two days before the change of government, but avoided giving his own views on the basis that there had been a legal challenge to the Act in the meantime.27
This legal challenge was the one launched by James Dillon, with Costello and McGilligan among his counsel, which was mentioned in Chapter 6. As we saw then, Fine Gael in general, and Jack Costello in particular, had been severely critical of the Government’s health proposals, both in 1945 and in 1947. This criticism had been aired during the election campaign. More surprisingly, Noel Hartnett of Clann na Poblachta also criticised the Act because it “interfered with the Catholic principles governing the rights of the State and of the family”.28 But in government, once some amendments were made to the Fianna Fáil proposals, Costello and his colleagues were prepared to continue with them—although there were rumblings within Fine Gael. Mulcahy forwarded to his party colleagues in Cabinet (including Costello) a letter from a party supporter criticising the proposals. Mulcahy noted that the supporter, a Dr Sheehan from Kerry, “was publicly very active against the Health Bill which we opposed. We have to take some notice of his criticism …” In his letter, Sheehan complained that “the Fine Gael Ministers have turned a complete somersault” and were supporting the proposals “which they opposed when Dr Ward was Medical Gauleiter”. He added that Browne “appears to be the worst Pink Totalitarian of them all … genetically un-Irish, upbringing un-Irish”.29
In fact, Browne had proposed some significant changes to the scheme, including the repeal of the section allowing compulsory medical inspection of children, clarification that health authorities were not being given compulsory powers, and the establishment of a medical appeal panel to hear the cases of people detained as probable sources of infection.30 But the most significant amendment proposed by Browne in a memorandum for Cabinet in June 1948 was not accepted. Browne suggested that the Minister should be given power to charge for services under the Mother and Child Scheme. Under the 1947 Act, the service would have been free to all sections of the community. Browne’s memorandum for government noted that the Irish Medical Association objected to the provision of free services to people who could afford to pay for them. He “does not propose at this stage to commit himself to the acceptance or rejection of the point of view of the Association”. But his proposed amendment would allow him to decide later whether or not to charge for the service and in the meantime would “lessen the opposition of the medical profession to it”.31
This was a sound enough tactic. But at the Cabinet meeting on 25 June, Browne was outflanked by Norton, who, “in the proletarian voice which he affected on such occasions … shouted down to me, ‘Yer not goin’ to let the doctors walk on ye, Noël?’ Before I could answer him, the Taoiseach asked, ‘What would you prefer, Doctor?’ I replied that I would prefer to keep the existing proposals, free of direct charge, and with no means test, already included in the Fianna Fáil Health Act.”32 Browne’s biographer has pointed out that this was all very embarrassing for him, as Norton had “depicted him in cabinet as cautious and fearful … and had put him unexpectedly … on the defensive on an issue which was critical to his understanding of his own mission”.33 Browne now went off to draft the scheme, under the impression that he had the full support of his Cabinet colleagues.
The text of Browne’s Bill to amend the 1947 Health Act was approved by Cabinet on 4 November 1949. However, at no point did Cabinet approve the actual introduction of the service, or the regulations setting it up. This point was seized on by Costello to show that the Mother and Child Service per se did not have Government approval. Intriguingly, he asked his officials in February 1950 to check on what decisions had been made by Cabinet on the scheme—the only one they could find was that of June 1948. He was reminded of this finding in March 1951 when the situation was coming to a head.34
A more experienced minister might have been expected to cover his back by gaining such formal approval. However, the terms of the 1947 Act strongly suggest that Browne was not required to have his regulations approved—Section 28 empowered the Minister for Health to make regulations as to how health authorities were to exercise their powers under Part III of the Act.35 John Horgan has pointed out that a more experienced government might have insisted that the regulations, which would inevitably have cost implications, should be brought back for approval.36
There were two main sources of opposition to the Mother and Child Scheme, medical and episcopal, and it is a mistake to underestimate the importance of either. While the bishops were to prove the final straw for Browne’s Cabinet colleagues, the doctors made the initial running, in public at least. The entrenched power of the medical profession was not a uniquely Irish phenomenon: in Britain, the opposition of doctors to the National Health Service led to “the most important, most difficult domestic fight of the post-war Labour Government’s life”.37
Worries about the centralising power of the State may seem overblown to modern eyes, but in the late 1940s and early 1950s they were real enough. Those opposed to increased State involvement had the recent example of totalitarian regimes in mind—Neil Farren, the Bishop of Derry and a UCD contemporary of Jack Costello, explicitly made the link, claiming that “the power and spirit behind practically all social legislation is … taken from the worst principles of Nazi and Soviet materialism”.38
A further complication was the situation within Clann na Poblachta. Browne’s biographer John Horgan has pointed out that the Minister and his associate Noel Hartnett were “indisputably operating a dual strategy. One strand had as its objective the creation of a free-for-all Mother and Child Scheme; the other had the implicit, and increasingly the explicit, aim of f
orcing the Clann out of government in order to preserve its ideological purity.”39 This conflict within the party was being openly discussed in the newspapers by February 1951,40 as was Browne’s “inclination to withdraw from the present Government”.41 MacBride claimed that Browne set out his aim of breaking up the party and the Government at a dinner in the Russell Hotel in November 1950—he circulated Cabinet colleagues, including Costello, with a memorandum of their conversation.42 The Taoiseach was therefore well aware that Browne was isolated within his party, as well as within the Cabinet.
The Taoiseach was also well informed of medical opinion. Dr Tom O’Higgins remained a committee member of the Irish Medical Association while he was a minister. Costello himself was greatly influenced by Alexis FitzGerald’s brothers, Oliver and Paddy, both of whom were prominent and influential in medical circles.43 Oliver’s son, Alexis, remembers Costello being in their house while he was Taoiseach, probably around the time of the Mother and Child controversy, and that Costello was accompanied by Dillon and possibly Norton.44 In any event, as a barrister, Costello would have been sympathetic to the views of fellow professionals. He became steadily more convinced of the case against a free Mother and Child Scheme, telling Patrick Lynch on 23 March 1951 that he was totally opposed to it, and would not be a member of a government that implemented it.45
While Fine Gael links with the medical profession were well known, one of Browne’s fellow Clann na Poblachta TDS was also warning Costello against the scheme. Dr J.P. Brennan, TD for Dun Laoghaire, was the Master-General of the Irish Guild of St Luke, SS. Cosmas and Damian, an organisation for Catholic doctors. “The Guild is concerned essentially with the traditional application of Catholic principles in the practice of medicine, and nothing else. There is no doubt that these appear to be endangered by the 1947 Act.”46
The Reluctant Taoiseach Page 36
