Sharply contrasting opinions emerged. Most of the arguments were cogent and, if here and there it was possible to spot vested interests at work, at least a vital issue was getting an airing. For O'Malley's part, it appeared that he had something thoughtful to contribute to the largely ignored area of mental health.

Last Monday, O'Malley's possible motives for his theorising became apparent. In the Prime Time Special on children's mental health, the minister inferred that long waiting lists were illusory, that in fact, the job was oxo if only consultants would come down off their high horses. Later, when asked about foot dragging in committing resources and implementing policy, he suggested that the criticism was coming from "vested interests".

He insisted that four planned 20-bed units for children would be up and staffed by the end of next year. Subsequently, the HSE put the timescale at 12 months later.

O'Malley quite obviously was attempting to minimise the scandal that has thrust thousands of families into their own private hell as they wait for assessment and treatment for children.

The smug performance also threw last month's contribution into a sharper light. Far from opening up debate, it now appears that the minister was on that occasion also trying to minimise the neglect of mental health. If depression isn't strictly a health matter, then it isn't his problem.

It appears that he sees his portfolio as being designed solely to make him look good.

Last month, he told a group of UCD students about how he was making "stellar progress" through public life. At a time of plenty, he must see mental health as an irksome pitstop on the route.

But then, O'Malley wouldn't be atypical of the attitude out there to this scandal. Politics today is almost exclusively designed to serve the expanded middle class. There is a nod here and there towards the vulnerable in society. A few euro onto the pension or social welfare looks good, particularly in an election year.

Mental health is different.

It is messy, and requires huge commitment, both in terms of resources and persistence.

If you are a member of the middle-class majority, and your child has any problem, be it learning, psychological or mental health, you will quite naturally skip the waiting list and pay to go private.

If that route isn't open to you, tough titty. You are condemned to years of quiet desperation, often observing a child slip further, because your plight does not exercise political pull. The will to tackle this scandal simply isn't there.

And what happens when a child's Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder or any number of other disorders go untreated? Many enter adulthood cast further adrift from emotional moorings. Quite often, substance abuse offers a fix, and with it the attendant life of crime.

Studies have shown that up to a quarter of inmates in Irish prisons suffer some form of mental or psychological disorder. How many of them might have embarked on a different road if their condition was attended to in childhood?

By the time they hit prison, they are no longer victims of state negligence, but criminals, a straightforward category of problem, which the state finds easier to deal with.

Two weeks ago, Amnesty International's Irish section launched a blueprint for action on mental health, called 'Let's Make It Happen'. The organisation is pushing hard for the government to live up to its commitments. "Everyone has the right to the highest attainable standard of mental health, " the blueprint states.

For the casual observer, Amnesty is a body that campaigns for human rights in countries with oppressive regimes, where rights are trampled on with impunity.

They're on the ball as far as their campaign in this state is concerned. We have a democracy of sorts here, but that is no bulwark against the negating of basic human rights.

Even now, with the country awash with money, thousands are having their rights forfeited in the name of grubby expediency.