ON THE CANVASS:Fine Gael's enforcer treats party members and voters alike – and not a kid glove in sight, writes KATHY SHERIDAN
ONE THING Phil Hogan could never be accused of is smarm.
He doesn’t do much small talk either and he speaks so quietly that he forces his audience to listen very carefully. For anyone in a first encounter with Big Phil, aka “the Enforcer”, aka the svengali of Fine Gael, it can be a tad surprising. Yet it fits the stereotype to perfection.
As campaign director, his job is to “encourage” candidates to manage the vote. That means they must agree to share the territory, which merely scratches at nerve endings that are already raw.
"Most of them are responsive but they don't likeit," he says, after taking a call from a Nervy Nigel somewhere in the east. The lesson herewith is, don't ring Phil if it's mollycoddling you're after.
“The conversation from our side is short and blunt: “Go back into your core area . . . You do not listen to Kevin Blank – it’s Paddy Blank you should be listening to. Go back into your core area as I said. Don’t say it to anyone.”
Some would call that an earful, ventures The Irish Times, as we head for the city in Cllr Paul Cuddihy's four-wheel drive.
"It's what you'd call, eh, guidance," laughs Paul, choosing the word with care. " Strongguidance," grins Phil. "Paul reads The Irish Times, that's how he knows those kinda words."
He’s not much different on the canvass. Handing out a policy leaflet on small business to city retailers, he is polite but succinct: “Phil Hogan. Fine Gael . . . Small business . . . ” No words are wasted. His quarry has to lean in to hear him.
He strides ahead of his genial support team – Cuddihy, Mayor of Kilkenny Martin Brett and Cllr Betty Manning.
There is no need to introduce himself of course, since we are canvassing a few yards from his constituency office.
“Ah everyone would know me anyway,” he says. “This is my seventh general election.”
The wonder of it is that he manages to keep a lid on his natural combativeness.
“What are you going to do for us?” demands a woman.
Without preamble, he launches into the mini spiel about the five- point plan. “We’re going to keep your taxes low and eliminate the waste out of the system and try and get some activity going for jobs.”
She murmurs about cuts in her benefit and the Christmas bonus. “If you could be left alone the way you are, you’d be doing very well because we’re in the IMF, as you know.”
He looks at her quizzically. “You’re hardly going to reward the fellas who caused the problem – hah? Not this time anyway?”
She takes off without comment.
“Have you made up your mind,” he asks a young woman.
“No,” she says.
“Right.”
Whipping out the five-point plan leaflet, he sets out to inform: “These are our five points: the jobs programme; how we are going to fix the deficit; reform the public services and the health service; and reform the political system.”
She seems impressed. “I’m from Carlow town and one of the problems I have is . . . ” – we all lean in expectantly – “the paths”.
The paths?
“The paths are awful bad. That’s one thing I have a big problem with. ”
He remains courteous while giving her the big news. “That’s a local issue. It’s a matter for Carlow County Council. Maybe you could get on to one of the councillors there. Michael Abbey is a good man.”
Take it or leave it, missus.
“Excuse me,” says another. “I hope you’re not forgetting the Comerama workforce. I’m one of those who never got our money.”
Big Phil looks at her. “You told me about that in Castlecomer only a few weeks ago. And you want to tell me again,” he says flatly. “I was in Castlecomer today and didn’t see you there.”
No, says the woman, explaining that she was visiting her sick sister. “I didn’t see you at our door,” she persists.
“I was out at as many doors as humanly possible. I know I’m 6ft 5in and if I divide myself in two I might get around but it’s not possible to go everywhere. But I met you outside the credit union in Castlecomer three weeks ago and at the welly race – remember? On January 1st?”
She begins: “And you said if you did get into power, you would look after it.”
"We'd examineit, we'd examine it," he interjects. "We're not giving you any commitment because we're in the IMF now. And you can go to any political party that wants to give you that commitment and make sure they honour it.
"But all I said and all I willsay to anybody that's looking for an explicit commitment on anything, we will see what will happen in the context of the next budget. That's all we can say."
“And we could be doing with that,” she continues. “You go out and look at Castlecomer – four factories closed,”
“I was out there this morning. I know. And we weren’t in government only 15 out of the last 85 [years] so look after the people that were in government,” he says to her disappearing back.
So there we are. A politician telling it like it is, staunchly refusing to fix potholes or make promises two days before a general election.
How odd is that?