The news that Sinn Féin activists posed as members of a fictitious polling company while canvassing voters may have divided opinion about the gravity of the infraction, but there's no danger of anyone putting Pat Kenny down as undecided on the matter.
Discussing the issue on Wednesday’s edition of his show (Newstalk, weekdays), Kenny tackles the Sinn Féin TD Eoin Ó Broin so ferociously that the guest has to calm down the host rather than vice versa.
Kenny sets the tone with his opening question, suggesting that Sinn Féin members pretending to work for the Irish Market Research Agency, was “deception, pure and simple”. Predictably enough, Ó Broin rejects this, claiming that larger political parties have been indulging in the practice for years. He adds that in 2010 – when the practice dates from – Sinn Féin was a “very small party”, unable to afford professional polling.
Given Sinn Féin's roots in armed republicanism, one could argue that using a false company whose acronym also spells 'I'm 'Ra' basically counts as full disclosure
This prompts incredulity from Kenny. “No, no, no, no, I can’t let you away with that,” he interjects, accusing his guest of putting on “the poor mouth”. But even as Kenny maintains his scorn – “I’m just baffled at your effrontery” – Ó Broin sticks to his dubiously reasoned line that there was nothing fraudulent about the Imra wheeze. Faced with this, Kenny changes tack.
“It’s a bit like saying I haven’t got the money to mount a campaign, so I’ll rob a bank, and we know where the finger was pointed for the Northern Bank,” says Kenny, referencing the 2004 robbery widely blamed on the IRA.
The otherwise unflappable Ó Broin sounds taken aback. “Let’s be very careful here, Pat,” he says, “Are you accusing me of criminal activity?” The host assures the TD that isn’t the case, and pulls back from his line of questioning before he can land himself in trouble. The argument ends in a grudging stalemate on the ethics of the situation. (Although, given Sinn Féin’s roots in armed republicanism, one could argue that using a false company whose acronym also spells “I’m ’Ra” basically counts as full disclosure.)
But while neither protagonist comes out of the contest especially well – Kenny unable to park his bias, his anti-establishment guest spinning like any other politician – it’s a doozy for the listener.
As it happens, the justification that Sinn Féin was merely following the example of others is essentially true (if still unedifying), as becomes clear when Tánaiste Leo Varadkar is interviewed by Cormac Ó hEadhra on Drivetime (RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays). Asked if Fine Gael has ever used similar practices for polling purposes, Varadkar, who never wastes an opportunity to stick it to the Shinners, instead adopts a phlegmatic air. "Quite frankly, yes," he admits.
'I'm not a business owner, but I am a doctor,' Varadkar says, 'and I do understand the consequences of people going to work when they are sick'
The Tánaiste says that his party previously used volunteers and paid students to conduct door-to-door surveys, “anonymised for the purposes of polling”. Perhaps surprised by his guest’s candour, Ó hEadhra doesn’t pursue the topic much further. Either way, the Tánaiste receives a notably easier ride on the subject than Ó Broin gets from Kenny.
Then again, Ó hEadhra’s query about dodgy polling habits is almost an afterthought, as he has already grilled Varadkar about proposals to extend sick-pay entitlements. The host is less aggressive than is often his wont – it’s difficult to get too outraged about illness benefits, after all – but he still harries his guest from several angles, from the post-lockdown timing of the measures to the cost for small businesses.
Varadkar makes a good case in response, pointing out that Ireland lags behind EU norms in this area. When Ó hEadhra asks if the proposal is fair, the Tánaiste firmly replies, “We need to be fair to workers as well as businesses.” But he can’t help sounding pleased with himself at the end, when the host reads out a text complaining that his ministerial guest doesn’t understand business.
“I’m not a business owner, but I am a doctor,” Varadkar says, “and I do understand the consequences of people going to work when they are sick.” It all sounds a little too self-satisfied, a closing flourish to undo the impact of his cogent arguments: trust me, I’m a politician.
The new sick-pay plans are also covered on Lunchtime Live (Newstalk, weekdays), when its host Andrea Gilligan talks to the Labour Senator Maria Sherlock about the issue. The Senator, unsurprisingly, favours the measures, although she sounds less comfortable when her host asks why such benefits shouldn't be extended to the self-employed.
But it’s an instructive conversation on the topic, as Gilligan supplements Sherlock’s political angle with the views of people directly affected by a lack of illness coverage, such as the language-school teacher Ciaran Gallagher.
The discussion is a good example of how to examine news stories from different perspectives (and with relatively limited resources), anchored by the host’s relaxed yet encouraging presence. Gilligan moves easily from current affairs to human-interest items, when she hears how some women are getting lip- and cheek-enhancing fillers dissolved for a more natural look.
Despite being prefaced by a clip of – shudder – a “celebrity influencer”, the discussion appeals to the uninitiated as well as to those with skin in the game, so to speak. The host talks about the ethical issues surrounding cosmetic surgery with Dr Sarah Kate Quinlivan, as well as the practical matter of physical appearance after one “removes the chicken fillets out of the cheeks”. It’s an unexpectedly absorbing segment: the subject matter notwithstanding, it’s not filler material.
'I'm so sorry, I can't continue with this. We're going to have to take a commercial break, says Sean Moncrieff. 'Your voice just occasionally collapses sometimes'
Yet despite the confidence with which Gilligan helms proceedings, she still seems to have moments of self-doubt. Talking with the vocal coach Jill Anderson, the host admits facing criticism for “the fact that I talk too fast”, as well as for her unmistakable Donegal twang.
“People don’t like an accent on radio,” Gilligan muses ruefully. Her guest reassures the presenter otherwise: “Sure aren’t accents what makes it interesting?” Moreover, Gilligan’s deceptively easy-going style is underpinned by an understated but resonant ability as a broadcaster. You can’t fake that.
Moment of the Week: Moncrieff’s momentary mumbles
Sean Moncrieff is rarely stuck for words, as fans of his Newstalk show (and Irish Times column) will know, so it's a shock when he suddenly stops talking on-air. On Wednesday, Moncrieff talks to Ronnie Abergel, founder of the Human Library, an organisation that allows users to "borrow" a person, to hear about their experiences. It's an intriguing interview, at least until Moncrieff starts to ask about "one-on-one communication" when, ironically, this ceases. Instead, the host stutters and starts wheezing in alarming fashion.
He manages to splutter about losing his voice before giving up: “I’m so sorry, I can’t continue with this, we’re going to have to take a commercial break.” Happily, Moncrieff returns afterwards, apologising for what he calls an occupational hazard: “Your voice just occasionally collapses sometimes.” It’s certainly rare to hear the indefatigable host fall silent.
