If you want to see specimens that demonstrate the potential of humans, check out the planning tribunal in Dublin Castle. The current investigation is into a rezoning in south county Dublin, in which Monarch Properties shelled out over 600,000 to lubricate the process.

Around half of this went to politicians. There is an allegation that 4,000 of it was bribes, but let's leave that murky business aside for a minute and concentrate on the honest politicians.

A total of 69 politicians received . . . and this is a beautiful term . . . "legitimate political donations" from Monarch. Five political parties . . . Fianna Fail, Fine Gael, the PDs, Labour and Democratic Left . . . also received money. If you didn't know better, you would think that Monarch had set up a charitable trust charged with pursing the ideals of democracy in order to make the world a better place.

Anyway, here is where the politicians, these moral giants, demonstrated their courage. Not one of them, to a man and woman, were in any way influenced by the money they received from Monarch. When it came to vote on rezoning, they were able to compartmentalise the fact that their donor . . .

which stood to make untold millions on the vote . . . had greased their respective paws. That, to me, is the height of moral courage. To be capable of ignoring a generous benefactor in order to do good by all the people can only be managed by those possessing a moral backbone of high-grade steel.

It would certainly be beyond me. What about you?

Would you not feel in some way obliged to at least give a weighted consideration to the interests of somebody who was greasing your paw?

One example of the higher calling of politicians is Tommy Morrissey, a PD senator. His evidence at the tribunal was typical of the high minded approach all councillors had to this quandary. Despite receiving £1,250 from Monarch, he told the tribunal: "To the day I die I will say I was not influenced in any way about my vote."

And then to drive the point home: "I will be determined and resolute in saying it did not affect me in carrying out my duties as a councillor as independently as I could." Truly, this man deserves his place in the pantheon of politicians who have the ability to rise above all conflicts of interest.

The courage required is even more demanding than first imagined. At a previous sitting, senator Don Lydon told the inquiry that donors often believe their money might buy influence, but they just don't realise who they're dealing with. We should take Don's word for this because not alone was he a great man for legitimate political donations, but he's a psychologist too, somebody with insight into the human condition.

So our heroes actually stiff the donors who believe that influence can be bought.

That takes neck. But most of all, it demonstrates that politicians are not of the world inhabited by those of us with feet of clay.

There was a time when we thought others were up there on the peaks with our politicians. Lawyers, doctors, clergy, all appeared to be made of sterner stuff, but in recent years they have come to accept that they, like the rest of us, are children of a lesser God, unable to rise above conflicts of interest.

Some are more courageous than others, but Fianna Fail is the real Braveheart outfit. Whether it is Bertie tapping racegoers in Galway, or Brian Cowen hosting a dinner for builders, begging bowl in one hand, manifesto in the other, these boys have the courage to take the money and proffer two fingers in return. Not since the patriot dead were alive have we witnessed such selfless bravery. So what good am I . . . or you, for that matter . . . compared to these giants of moral rectitude?