ON THE CANVASS:The going is tough in Co Carlow, even for a local candidate who is an established politician, writes PAUL CULLEN
YOU KNOW you’re in trouble when the only compliments coming your way are back-handed ones.
“Fair play to yiz,” says shopkeeper Brian Case to Green Party TD Mary White, “for having the neck to come around here”.
Things look brighter in the pub a few doors down. “You’re always my number one,” says Pat Dowling, leaving his bar stool to deliver a warm handshake. “I’m probably the first one to say that to you today.”
We’re in the small village of Myshall, under the Blackstairs Mountains, and a short hop from White’s home in Borris, Co Carlow. There should be ripe pickings here for an established politician and a local candidate, but the going is tough and it quickly becomes apparent why the Greens are languishing at 1 per cent in the polls.
“You’ve made a holy show of yourselves,” Case tells the politician, without any personal rancour. “You should have walked out in November, or even earlier.”
A lifetime Fianna Fáil voter, he says he’s now disgusted with the party.
“The whole thing has gone south and the bank guarantee is the problem. We’re all now paying for the banks’ unacceptable borrowings.”
Case says he doesn’t intend to vote. “Neither will I,” chimes his wife, Majella. “We just want to pay our bills and educate our kids.” Instead, she explains, business is down, they’ve had to let people go and – she takes out two books of creditor listings from under the counter – everyone is suffering.
White attempts to counter: “If we had left earlier people would say we weren’t able to hack it.” She starts listing Green achievements in government – planning reforms, education spending, etc – but the shopkeepers have their arms folded and aren’t interested.
“You had your principles. If you hadn’t gone into power, you could be crowing now,” Case points out.
White heads out into the teeth of a gale to another shop but the local postmistress doesn’t give much cause for hope either.
“I supported you up to now but not any more, because of what happened since you went into government,” she tells White and her canvassers
“The plug should have been pulled earlier, before the bank guarantee. Someone took their eye off the ball,” she continues. “Now we’re paying for someone else’s problem.”
In 2007, White pulled off a major surprise by capturing the last seat in Carlow-Kilkenny thanks to generous transfers from other candidates.
She knows she faces a huge struggle this time around to get elected, but reckons that the departure of Carlow Fianna Fáil TD MJ Nolan should help.
White espouses what she calls a Buddhist approach to campaigning: “No looking forward, no looking back, just staying in the now.”
She’s energetic and engaged with people, which helps, and acknowledged as a hard constituency worker. But there’s no getting away from the big questions, such as why the Greens went into government and why they stayed there so long.
“Any self-respecting political party goes into government when it gets a chance – otherwise, you’re an NGO. If we pulled out, we would have been accused of being flaky.”
What might have been? “If we hadn’t gone in, we’d be up there with the German Greens at 20 per cent,” she adds wistfully.
Like all politicians, White has learned the chameleon routine: to the women browsing in the charity shop, she is the leading woman candidate; to the owner of a new boutique, she points to her past as a retailer selling books. And to everyone she meets on Carlow town’s streets, she is the only sitting TD from Co Carlow standing this time around.
No one is fooled – the shopkeeper says she’ll “keep you in mind”, the woman on the street says no to a leaflet and rushes past – but the flesh has been pressed and the memory of a brief interaction might yet affect the way a ballot sheet is completed three weeks hence.
Dublin Street in Carlow is rundown and forgotten; the big retailers have moved elsewhere in the town and the remaining shops are clearly struggling. The road boasts six or seven charity shops, an unhealthy number of unoccupied premises and some heartwarming survivors from another era.
“We used to have three banks and the Royal Hotel on this street, but there’s nothing now,” says Bernadette Hayes, speaking from the counter of the shop she has tended for 60 years. “I don’t mind who gets in. No matter who does, they won’t be able to do anything. The money’s not there,” she tells the candidate.
Hayes, nodding in the direction of the religious statues in her window and the bank no longer across the road, blames the bank guarantee agreed by White’s government for the country’s problems.
“The bubble was always going to burst.”
“Will you help me?” White persists.
“Of course I will,” comes the reply, “if you help me.”
In Lamberts newsagents, run by 87-year-old Bridie Lambert, White strikes up a conversation in Irish with a customer, Michael Keenan.
“Níl mé líofa fós,” she admits, adding that she is fluent in Spanish. Keenan warms to her local credentials. “We could end up with no TD from Carlow. We’re always tagged on to Kilkenny. We’re second-class citizens here.” She couldn’t have put her case better herself.