The recent death of broadcaster and writer David Hanly has prompted a wave of recollection about the origins of Morning Ireland, the programme he presented from its launch in 1984 until his retirement 20 years later. For a generation of listeners, Hanly wasn’t simply part of Morning Ireland; he was Morning Ireland. That unmistakably gravelly voice setting out the news of the day became the sound of public-service broadcast journalism.
Given its long-standing status as the most listened-to radio programme in the State, it may come as a surprise that Morning Ireland’s birth was tortuous and, by the standards of Montrose, faintly revolutionary.
Obituaries of Hanly this week described an extended struggle inside RTÉ in the early 1980s: editorial debates, managerial hesitations and a good deal of scepticism about whether a serious, news-first breakfast programme was either necessary or viable. At this remove, it’s hard to interpret the resistance as anything other than institutional conservatism and possibly also an aversion to turning up for work well before dawn.
In its earliest guise, Morning Ireland was a modest affair, running for just one hour from 8am. The two-hour, 7am start that now feels timeless came later, a belated recognition of a country changing rapidly as economic recovery in the early 1990s shaded into the Celtic Tiger years. By then the rhythms of work, commuting and news consumption had shifted decisively. Morning Ireland expanded partly because Ireland itself had turned into something noisier, busier and wealthier.
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Over those years, the programme became RTÉ’s flagship newsroom product: the place where official Ireland announced things, defended things and occasionally tried to bury things. Its dominance grew until it was almost taken for granted.
According to the most recent listenership survey, it enjoys an audience of about 465,000. In Irish radio terms, that is Everest. It also provides the launch pad for RTÉ Radio 1’s schedule for the rest of the day.
By contrast, Morning Ireland’s only genuine rival, Newstalk Breakfast, has spent two decades searching for a magic formula. The station has tried almost everything: David McWilliams, Eamon Dunphy, a succession of lively pairings and personality-heavy double-acts. The current iteration, fronted by Shane Coleman and Ciara Kelly, is arguably the strongest yet. Even so, its audience hovers at around one-third of Morning Ireland’s. Perfectly respectable for commercial radio but hardly a threat to the hegemony of the RTÉ mother ship.
Given this gap, it would be easy for RTÉ management to conclude that Morning Ireland is the one thing they should leave untouched. When your organisation is perpetually in financial triage, you don’t lightly meddle with your biggest hit. And yet, as radio listeners know instinctively, longevity and complacency make unhappy companions. Morning Ireland remains a formidable piece of daily programming but it increasingly sounds like a formidable piece of daily programming from another era.
Some of the problems are structural. The running order feels as if it has been in place since Hanly and Des O’Malley were exchanging frosty pleasantries in the 1980s. The fixed slots for sport and business are dutiful rather than dynamic. The occasional lighter item arrives with the dull thud of a segment included because the running order demanded it rather than because the world did.
And at its worst, the programme descends into the familiar parade of sectoral advocates and veteran pundits. You know the voices before you hear the names; you know the lines before they say them.
To these ears, the It Says in the Papers slot also sounds desperately tired and almost anachronistic, a 20th century ritual preserved out of habit rather than purpose.
The presenters themselves remain capable and calm, if a little too deferential at times. The departures of Áine Lawlor and Mary Wilson in September leave a hole but the roster will inevitably refresh, with Sarah McInerney tipped to join the excellent Gavin Jennings. If that happens, she will add a new voice with the authority to match his.
But presenters can only do so much; with a programme like this, it’s the producers who have the real power to shape something new.
What might a genuine refresh look like? First, a broader sense of what constitutes news. A more expansive agenda – one that reflects social change, cultural shifts and the lived experience of different communities – would make the programme sound more like the country it serves.
Second, the guest book could use a shake-up. The reliance on large institutional actors gives the programme authority; it also gives it sameness. There is room for stronger local reporting, for new faces and accents, for unexpected expertise. Not every debate needs a spokesperson from an organisation with an acronym.
Third, the show might benefit from a small dose of structural elasticity. Today on BBC Radio 4, its obvious counterpart, is better at slowing down when the news demands it and better at sounding alive to the texture of the day. Morning Ireland often seems constrained by the next fixed item. A little more looseness could allow stories to breathe.
There is also the question of timing. Should the programme start at 6am? Possibly; listeners’ habits have certainly shifted. But there is a danger in imagining that an earlier start equals a better programme. The content matters more than the clock.
Morning Ireland remains an institution. But institutions endure best when they renew themselves rather than rely on inertia. Hanly helped invent something genuinely new 40 years ago. As the programme reflects on that legacy, this feels like a good moment to ask what the next 40 should sound like.
