Two days later, he received a clear indication that co-operation and goodwill were unlikely to be advanced by his opponents. Bishop Browne and Monsignor Pádraig de Brún, President of University College Galway, called on him to discuss plans to open a new Agriculture Faculty in UCG. The Taoiseach expressed understandable frustration at this “somewhat strange” development. Why, he asked, had UCG not mentioned this desire before? Clearly, at a time when the Government was attempting to rationalise and (to an extent) centralise agricultural education, the creation of yet another faculty would create further difficulty. The discussion soon moved on to a philosophical debate on the merits of a central institute. Bishop Browne criticised what he termed “something resembling a factory for … the mass production of Agricultural graduates in one centre”. He claimed the students would miss out on the advantages of university life, and in one central faculty might miss the benefits of personal attention. This was nonsense, and Costello was quick to point out the weaknesses in the prelate’s arguments. After all, the students would have two years in their various universities before going to the Institute. And no one complained about medical students doing their practical training in hospitals.148
Bishop Lucey of Cork was also still vocal in his opposition. In September, he told a meeting at UCC organised by Macra na Feirme and the National Farmers’ Association that a centralised institute wouldn’t work, owing to the varied nature of Irish agriculture; that the proper function of the State was “to help the private citizen and his organisations rather than to edge them out with its own agencies”; and that while the people would vote down a government committed to socialisation, a gradual process of creeping State control could “nibble more and more from the field of private enterprise, until finally little worthwhile remains outside Civil Service control”. He then criticised various aspects of the proposed institute, claiming that the Government-appointed director would be the real power, not the governing body, and criticising the Bill for putting Trinity on an equal footing with the NUI colleges.149
Ralph Sutton, who had married Eavan Costello in April 1955, and who lived at the time in Cork, sent a lengthy commentary on this speech to his father-in-law. Sutton pointed out that much of what the Bishop said was unfair criticism. For instance, Lucey claimed the governing body would only meet three times a year, when the draft legislation required it to meet at least three times a year. Sutton agreed with Lucey that Trinity was “no place for Catholics” but argued that this was irrelevant. Many of the more progressive farmers were Protestant, he said, and they had a right to send their sons to the Institute through Trinity. Anyway, Trinity was a university and its right to equal representation with the NUI “is recognised in the Constitution” (in the provisions on Seanad representation). Costello’s other son-in-law, Alexis FitzGerald, had apparently advised writing a confrontational letter on the subject; Sutton counselled against this as it “would blow up the entire assembly of Bishops which is not what anyone wants”.150 This advice was astute; so were his answers to criticisms of the Institute. Costello evidently agreed with what he had to say, because he passed the letter on to Dillon, who used it as the basis for a speech to the Agricultural Science Association a few days later.151
In October, the secretary to the hierarchy, Bishop James Fergus of Achonry, forwarded a formal statement by the bishops—which was not being published, he said, as “Their Lordships do not wish to cause any embarrassment to the Government.” After going through the concerns about academic independence and State incursion into higher education, the real reason for opposition emerged—“under the Draft Proposals, the National University is seriously injured, while Trinity College not merely loses nothing but gains a position of advantage out of all proportion” to its number of Agriculture students. Because Trinity would have representatives on the governing body of the Institute, and because the Institute would be a recognised college of the NUI, Trinity would have “an influence on the Board of Studies of the NUI, while the NUI would not have any similar voice or control in any of the councils of Trinity College”. The establishment of the Institute would, the hierarchy statement continued, “involve the forcible injection into that University of extraneous and hostile elements”.
The bishops stated they were concerned about damage to the NUI because it was “the only centre of university education that is acceptable to Catholic principles”. Fergus said the bishops had never opposed giving Protestants “their just rights and due proportion of State endowments in accordance with their numbers”. But he claimed the State had in recent years given Trinity a subsidy “out of proportion to the number of Protestants in this State … It is a serious matter for the Irish Catholic tax-payer that he should be asked to endow an institution which is prohibited to Catholics as intrinsically dangerous, and it raises issues of very serious importance to us who are charged with the defence of Catholic Faith.” The hierarchy’s alternative was an institute with “effective academic freedom and autonomy … which would have the function of co-ordinating and developing agricultural research”.152
This was a serious challenge to the Government, couched in terms of “defence of the Catholic Faith”, the approach which had proved so effective in the Mother and Child controversy. And control of higher education was just as serious a matter for the bishops as medicine—arguably more important. Given his performance in the earlier controversy, Costello might have been expected to buckle; he didn’t. Notes written a few days after the hierarchy’s letter arrived showed him in determined form. Up to now, the Government had not responded to charges made by individual bishops. Now, he thought, the Government must do so as the charges had been repeated. “It is essential to put on record our repudiation of certain charges explicit or implied in the memo, particularly that of State control.” Given the Government’s “repeated assurances”, he felt it was “a little difficult to understand the repetition of the charge of the desire of the Government for State control”. He also noted that there had been no objection to Trinity’s role until January 1955, even though it had been involved since the scheme was first mooted five years before. Anyway, Costello argued, “justice requires that Trinity get some say in the Institute”, because it already had a Faculty of Agriculture and there were Protestant farmers who should have access to the Institute. The proposed Trinity representation on the governing body was, he added, “the very irreducible minimum”.153
Costello ensured great secrecy over his reply, which was approved by Cabinet on 4 November. A draft had been circulated to a meeting of ministers in Leinster House two days earlier. Each copy was headed “Secret and Personal to Minister”, enclosed in an envelope with a similar heading, and then put in the normal circulation envelope used for Cabinet documents.154 Clearly, the Taoiseach felt any leak of the contents of his letter would be very damaging. It’s easy to see why.
He began by repeating that the draft proposals could be changed, and were only a basis for discussion. It would be a matter of “deep concern” to the Government if the proposals had any unfavourable repercussions on Catholic university education—but they trusted that the letter “will effectively remove the Bishops’ apprehensions in this respect”. So far, so deferential. But Costello then went on to demolish the hierarchy’s arguments point by point.
The Government, he said, would have expected the bishops “to accept without question” the assurances he and Dillon had given on State control, and “they regret that Their Lordships have thought it proper to disregard those assurances”. He dismissed complaints about the appointment of the Institute’s director by the President on the advice of the Government by pointing out that this was how judges were appointed. The bishops had claimed the governing body would be largely nominated by the State, when only 10 of the 34 members would be so nominated. Their assertion that the governing body had no control over the Director was even worse—Costello said it showed “a most regrettable lack of advertence to the actual terms of the draft outline”. Recalling his c
ommitment in his speech in August that the Government would not attempt to control the Institute through the grant, Costello regretted that “Their Lordships have, evidently, not given to this assurance the weight and importance that properly attach to such a declaration by the Head of the Government.” Again, on the question of the moral welfare of students, there had been “a regrettable disregard of the relevant public declarations by the Taoiseach”.
On alleged Trinity influence—“the forcible injection … of extraneous and hostile elements”—Costello said the Government had been “unable to follow the reasoning” of the hierarchy. He said Trinity’s representation couldn’t be based on the number of Protestants in the Republic; they made up 34 per cent of the population of the island as a whole, and the ending of partition was “a primary aim of national policy”. The Government did not feel obliged to respond to the point about State subsidies to Trinity, as it was not relevant to the issue at hand. He suggested the bishops should have raised it when the subsidies began in 1947, or when they were increased in 1952 (in both cases, by a Fianna Fáil government). He concluded in a conciliatory tone again; his comments were designed to remove misapprehensions, and the proposals remained open to amendment. The Government would bear the hierarchy’s views in mind, “to the utmost extent compatible with the general interest of the community as a whole”.155
It was an extraordinary document, showing a hitherto unsuspected independence of mind on the part of the Taoiseach and his government towards the hierarchy. Why did the Costello who enthusiastically bent the knee to the bishops in 1951 now stand up to them? Most importantly, of course, he believed in the Institute, while he had disapproved of the Mother and Child Scheme. Secondly, in contrast to 1951, the Government was solidly behind the scheme, while the hierarchy was split. As we have seen, Archbishop Walsh favoured the Institute, while McQuaid was at least neutral. When Costello sent him a copy of his reply to Fergus, the Archbishop replied that he would give the Government’s views his “very careful consideration”.156 The official response from Fergus following the next meeting of the hierarchy’s standing committee was distinctly chilly. It expressed “deep regret at the tone and contents of the document which the Government thought well to address to us”. He added that the committee felt that none of its objections had been answered by the Government.157 Costello brought the letter to Cabinet; the Government decided that “the letter does not call for any reply”.158
However, despite this tough response to the hierarchy, the Government’s plans were in serious trouble. The determined opposition from the universities was having its effect. In May 1956, Dillon wrote to Costello insisting that the proper use of the Marshall Aid funds “demands the establishment of an independent Agricultural University”, though he suggested it could have a Faculty of Sociology and Philosophy under clerical control. He warned of “the danger … that in order to avoid treading on anybody’s toes we shall end up with a milk and water kind of research institute established at great cost … which will add little or nothing to the resources of which we dispose already”.159
But the academic opposition continued, which delayed the establishment of the Institute. And by this stage, Costello was becoming increasingly desperate for concrete achievements in a range of areas. In the course of a memorandum setting out ideas for his October 1956 policy speech (see Chapter 13), the Taoiseach suggested the Institute should be established without taking over the existing Faculties of Agriculture. “I believe that by conceding the claim of UCD and UCC to retain their existing position it would be likely to be accepted, and I think also would cost less.”160
In the draft heads of a Bill finally approved by Cabinet in October, the Institute’s scope had been reduced to that of a research body, aiming “to review, co-ordinate and facilitate agricultural research in progress and to promote additional research”.161 Costello told de Valera the plans had been changed as a result of the “considerable amount of criticism, on various grounds, from the interests concerned”. The Government, he said, was now anxious to proceed and wanted the Bill introduced in the Dáil before Christmas.162 More significant than his consultations with the leader of the Opposition were those with McQuaid. Having sent the Archbishop of Dublin an outline of the legislation, he received a prompt and cordial reply. McQuaid wrote that “the Institute that can be constructed on this basis ought to satisfy all the elements of the nation … by reason of the fairness of representation and the specific functions of the Body. The number of times that the word research occurs in the draft—if I am not mistaken, 21 times—ought to let any person see the purpose of the Institute.”163 The American Ambassador also gave his approval; the Bill was introduced in the Dáil on 5 December, but fell with the Government. The legislation was finally steered through by de Valera, who had the name of the Agricultural Institute changed to An Foras Talúntais.164 Later still, it became part of Teagasc.
Two postscripts might be mentioned. Given how much he resented Browne’s publication of the correspondence with the hierarchy during the Mother and Child crisis, it is not surprising that Costello was sensitive about his own bad-tempered exchange with the bishops. Most unusually, he instructed his officials to remove the correspondence from the official Government files. This move was so irregular that it was noted on the file by Nicholas Nolan, who observed that the papers “should be treated as especially confidential”.165 Which was all well and good until October 1957, when the joint secretaries to the hierarchy wrote to the new Taoiseach, de Valera, seeking an assurance that he would take account of their representations.166 Puzzled, de Valera asked Moynihan about it. On being told of his predecessor’s action, de Valera rang Costello, who agreed that “in the circumstances, the papers would have to be made available” to the new government, and they were placed back in the file.167
The other addition to the story concerns James Dillon, who shortly after the defeat of the Second Inter-party Government met Pádraig de Brún of UCG in Dublin. De Brún said it was “a great pity” that Dillon hadn’t stuck to his original proposals for a separate agricultural university. When Dillon pointed out that de Brún had lobbied against the plan, the UCG President said he had been obliged to do so, but thought the Minister should have ignored him! He thought the hierarchy were wrong in their opposition, but he couldn’t say so as he had seven bishops on his governing body, and “they were bad enough as it was without adding fuel to the flames”. According to his later account to Costello, Dillon “expressed astonishment that a Catholic Priest could be guilty of such conduct”, and walked off.168
One Department in which Costello took a very direct interest was Justice. The Minister, Jim Everett, was in and out of hospital with stomach trouble when the Government was formed, so Costello was acting Minister for several months.169 He arranged for the young Fine Gael activist and solicitor Richie Ryan to become private secretary to Everett, who had no legal background. The Taoiseach also handled the legal reform end of the portfolio, and brought most of this legislation through the Dáil. Ryan got the impression he enjoyed this work, and did it for relaxation as much as anything.170 Costello’s influence on law reform was clear. When Everett submitted a memorandum to government on a proposed Bill on the status of married women, he specifically stated that he did so “at the instance of the Taoiseach”.171 Costello also brought the Solicitors Bill and the Mortmain (Repeal of Enactments) Bill through the Dáil.172 And despite being Taoiseach, he remained active as a Bencher of King’s Inns—he was by this stage the Senior Bencher, and helped organise a visit to Ireland by the American Bar Association.173
He also continued to show an interest in the arts. Costello’s return to power in 1954 presented a potential difficulty to Paddy Little, de Valera’s appointee as Director of the Arts Council. Little moved to inform the new Taoiseach of the Council’s work, with particular stress on Costello’s pet projects. Little wrote that “at least 50% of our funds goes to the visual arts”, adding that the Industrial Design Exhibition “was a g
reat success, but our own people are very backward in these matters and we are attempting to hold an exhibition of purely Irish products in the course of the next year”.174 If this was meant to satisfy the Taoiseach, it failed. In 1955, Costello arranged for Tom Bodkin to be taken on as a consultant to the Council—an appointment that was not surprisingly viewed as a “coup” against them by the members.175
In a letter to Bodkin, Little said of Costello that “he wants to do big things, and so do we, and I do believe there are indications that a public appetite has been whetted for culture”.176 Costello, meanwhile, was assuring Bodkin that he intended to keep “in fairly close touch” with the work of the Council and, without appearing to interfere, to “endeavour to see that your advice is sought when necessary or expedient”.177 Three months later, the Taoiseach told Bodkin the Council “are feeling ‘touchy’ about my alleged interference with their functions”. He added that he wanted “to shift the emphasis away from drama to the visual arts”, as well as possibly starting lectures on industrial design.178
As always, he stressed the practical advantages of investment in the arts. He pointed out to Sweetman that a visit by French author Henri Daniel-Rops led to an enthusiastic article about Ireland which appeared in 12 French newspapers. The Taoiseach told Bodkin, with considerable satisfaction, that “the Minister for Finance … agreed that such a visit followed by such an article receiving wide publicity was worth more than large sums spent on tourist advertising and that culture does pay practical dividends”.179 However, as the economic situation deteriorated, the battle to maintain support for the arts became tougher. In December 1956 he told Sweetman that he wouldn’t comment on his categorisation of the Arts Council as a non-essential service “for the sake of my blood pressure”. He pointed out that a new Council was about to be appointed. “I am particularly anxious to give the new body a fair opportunity of doing effective work. I am afraid I could not agree to change the decision, and I must ask you not to press me on the matter.”180 Later, in opposition, he suggested that tax relief for exports should also apply to works of art. “If we have here a man who is, say, a painter, or a writer, and if he as a result of his talent, genius or artistry sells the produce of his brains, or of his talent or genius abroad, why could we not have an incentive for that particular type of thing?”181 The idea was rejected by the Fianna Fáil Minister for Finance, Dr Jim Ryan182—his successor, Charles Haughey, later deservedly received plaudits for introducing tax exemption for artists.
The Reluctant Taoiseach Page 48
