Death becomes him

Death can be an excellent public relations tool: witness the skyrocketing sales of Roy Orbison's albums following his death to a generation of music fans who were totally ambivalent to his existence while alive. The death of former Irish Taoiseach Charles Haughey is likely to produce a similar effect, though fortunately for all concerned, Mr. Haughey does not have a back catalogue of musical material primed for re-release.

Undoubtedly the most controversial politician of his generation, and probably the best-know Irish politician since Eamonn De Valera, Haughey was renowned for his lavish, shadily-funded lifestyle.

His property portfolio included the island of Innishvickillaun off the coast of county Kerry, the Don Corleone-esque Abbeyville House estate at Kinsealy. It was clear to even the least enquiring mind that Haughey himself was guilty of the very thing he castigated the Irish public for in the early 80s: "living beyond our means".

A family friend recounted to me recently meeting Haughey at his home in Kinsealy on the day he became Taoiseach for the first time. There was, he said, a line of property developers and business men waiting for an audience with The Boss, to receive their rewards for funding his lavish lifestyle. He overheard a conversation between two of the men examining their surroundings as they waited and commented: "As long as he lives like this, we will own this fella!"

And it is pretty clear that they did. Haughey ended up making the largest settlement for a private individual with the Irish Revenue Commissioners in the history of the state, of about £4 million.

Despite, the catalogue of incidents in a similar vein to those mentioned, Haughey is still a much respected and well loved figure amongst large sections of the Irish electorate, for many of whom the man could do no wrong.

His achievements did extend outside of the realm of corruption. His 1987 finance act designated a run down area of the Dublin docklands as a special investment area which, with the help of progressive taxation policies has grown into the cluster of glass towers that is now the Irish Financial Services Centre. His supporters would argue that Haughey laid the groundwork for the explosion in growth that the Irish economy was to experience in the 1990s and there is certainly a degree of truth to that. The most positive aspect of Haughey's political legacy is that he was a man who helped to turn Ireland around; from a country that was haemorrhaging young people it was unable to employ to an economic success, attracting migrants from around the world.

Haughey was the archetypal loveable rogue: making piles of dirty money, engaging in extra-marital affairs while holding the nation's top job. He was breaking the rules, but sure wouldn't you do it yourself if you had the chance? Or so thought the Irish electorate, who turned a blind eye and reelected him time and again.

Haughey's mixed legacy, of economic success and political corruption is not one that I would hope to see future Irish leaders emulate. The debate surrounding whether he should have been praised to the rooftops or thrown in the slammer is one that will not be settled quickly. He was, however, a towering figure in Irish politics with whose passing the political arena will undoubtedly be the duller for.