A SELECT few extracts from the Bank of Ireland egm might suggest a gathering full of fire-breathing refuseniks. In fact, the four and a half hours (plus a light lunch, lots of biscuits and a few gardaí stationed outside, just in case) it took to store away the “retail shareholders” for another year were rather well-mannered, in contrast to the fireworks of recent years.
Which of course, befits a gathering calling itself an extraordinary general court. “It sounds like something from Camelot”, said a scathing Pat Hegarty to the podium, before lashing into the “incompetence” of the board, which had “almost brought the bank to its knees”.
A man who had sold shares in other companies to invest in the “safer” Bank of Ireland accused it of “begging, threatening and bribing us to reinvest in an offensively simplistic approach”.
Said another: “Our lot had improved since our great-grandfathers’ time – now I’m back where my grandfather was. We are the poor, the new dispossessed. And you’re still sitting up there, smooth and happy . . .”
But there was no shouting, foul language or egg-shaped weapons. “There’s something a little sad about the atmosphere,” remarked Meadhbh Hand, who at 35 was about half the average age of the 480 shareholders in UCD’s O’Reilly Hall. To her, they looked “angry, broke and disillusioned . . . I think for a lot of people of that age, it’s not just about the losses. It’s also about old values, moral values . . .”
The anger has been transmuted to a melancholy impotence for the most part. Resistance was futile. There were no real answers to the questions about bonuses (“for profits that never existed”), salaries or gold-plated pensions.
The bitter truth was that retail shareholders were superfluous. The rights issue was a done deal; whether they liked it or not, their shares would be diluted. A baffled woman on an invalidity pension couldn’t see how they could do that legally. “Oh we can,” said governor Pat Molloy (chairman to the rest of the world), whose sangfroid and steely courtesy marked him as a natural leader in the event of a dust-up.
Questions were asked about the bank’s lawyers, Arthur Cox, and conflicts of interest. “We get an excellent service from Arthur Cox,” replied the governor. Could he state the fees paid to Arthur Cox last year? “That’s not a disclosable item.” Why were shareholders not presented with say, 20 candidate directors to choose from, rather than the same 13 outgoing faces? “Because all the directors are going forward for re-election.” Why is the agm not held on a Saturday, when branch staff can attend? “The system seems to operate quite well.” Why had the outstanding €2.25 million loan of one director actually risen since he left? “That’s a personal matter. I couldn’t really comment.”
Meadhbh Hand – a PhD candidate who came by her modest shareholding after a stint with the bank – sought reassurance that “the bank will act correctly, not because there is a new Financial Regulator, but because it’s the right thing to do”. “I can assure you the bank will act correctly,” said the governor.
After voting overwhelmingly to accept the recommendations, the shareholders munched on a simple lunch and exchanged stories about people who had fallen on hard times. But they were calm. Myra Garahan said she expected that this year. “People are still above ground, they’re over the shock, they’ve lived through other recessions, they know there are countries and people worse off then us . . .”
And the share news wasn’t entirely dark – at least, not for the woman who confided that she had “neutralised” her bank losses with a punt on Tullow Oil, and wasn’t long back from Barbados, “business class all the way”.
