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If you are bored with constant conversations about Covid-19, think of Brendan O’Connor. With impeccable timing, O’Connor began hosting his show (RTÉ Radio 1, Saturday and Sunday) just as the coronavirus crisis gripped Ireland, and he has spent most of his weekends since he spoke about it.
The problem for the columnist-presenter is not so much the omnipresence of the pandemic – it is an inescapable topic in current affairs radio – than the way in which it has limited the direction of its program. The slot that O’Connor replaced the late Marian Finucane was a magazine show, the perfect platform to present the problems of the day. Unfortunately, with public health issues dominating everyone, the newspaper in question has turned out to be The Lancet.
For example, no matter how O’Connor tries to turn things around in the Sunday newspaper panel, he invariably ends up where he started, dissecting the latest twists in the Covid-19 saga. It’s no wonder you sound a bit dyspeptic as you ponder the possibility of travel limits increasing to 10km if infection rate improves. “Hallelujah,” he sneers wearily, “Is that really all they’re going to give us if we behave right?”
With Level 5 restrictions in place, the panel’s conversation also has an unsurprisingly jaded tone. Food entrepreneur Domini Kemp appears pessimistic about the hospitality industry’s prospects for survival, while political scientist Gary Murphy comments with resignation that the “one-size-fits-all approach is hurting the people.” But while the mood is heavy, the discussion seems lighter on the substantive content.
Like most of us, panelists can reflect on their experiences and offer opinions on the pandemic, but are less qualified when it comes to detailed medical insights. “I’m not a public health expert,” notes NUI Galway history professor Sarah Anne Buckley at one point. “He’s not holding anyone back today, we’re all entitled to our own thoughts on things,” O’Connor responds. It’s fair enough, although one might expect a bit more from a flagship radio show on the national broadcaster. At times like this, the show looks less like a respected medical journal than a first aid booklet for beginners.
Elsewhere, O’Connor directs proceedings to other matters, though Saturday’s interview with Shane Ross, the former transportation minister, looks more like a lighthearted gathering than a political interrogation. Though O’Connor asks some tough questions, the atmosphere is personable as Ross recounts anecdotes from his new memoirs of his time in government. There are some candid personal comments, like when Ross recalls why he stopped drinking in the 1980s: “It was a threat in my life.” But even given the unbuttoned atmosphere of weekend radio, it still seems too easy an encounter: that the two men were longtime colleagues at the Sunday Independent doesn’t help this impression.
It’s frustrating, because O’Connor can be a fascinating host. Sunday’s usual cultural stripe underscores his broader knowledge of everything from Netflix shows to Sally Rooney novels, while his humor can be scathing: “I hate Coldplay as much as any other man,” says O’Connor. as he begins his closing song. On the whole, however, his program seems stifled by current circumstances.
A joust of spikes
Things are more animated when Philip Boucher-Hayes, guest host on Today with Claire Byrne (RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays), presents a joust between former government colleagues Shane Ross (because it’s him again) and Sen. Regina Doherty . Ross endures a much harsher treatment this time, and his memoirs draw the ire of former ministerial colleague Doherty for breaching cabinet confidentiality. It is a transgression that she considers “unedifying” and “pure attention seeking.” “It leaves us in no doubt that he had no interest in being a minister,” he tells Boucher-Hayes. “I even feel guilty about being with you, because you are giving it more publicity,” adds Doherty, by way of cake and eating it.
In response, Ross adopts a hurt mischief that stands in stark contrast to the friendly informality of his talk with O’Connor. He understands Doherty’s anger, but wants to show how the government works. As for cabinet confidentiality, he says the memoirs of Garret FitzGerald and Gemma Hussey were equally intrusive, while ministers continually leak favorite journalists anyway.
Neither of which washes up with Doherty. “I’m not angry, I’m disappointed,” she proclaims, though her directorial nobility is undermined when she breaks the seal of secrecy herself to reveal how Ross “went crazy” in a meeting. Just in case, she calls him a “revealing gossip.” If this is how people behave in the closet, it’s no wonder they want to keep it quiet.
Boucher-Hayes, for his part, brings his best air of patrician perplexity to the proceedings. “God” is the closest he gets to expressing surprise at the “zingers” he’s listening to, preferring to question his guests on more specific constitutional and political issues. Of course, the host’s calm demeanor only accentuates the unseemly squabbles around him. It’s a practical lesson on how to maximize the impact of an article.
A more dignified frame of mind reigns Sunday with Miriam (RTÉ Radio 1), when travel writer Fionn Davenport tells Miriam O’Callaghan how he was adopted after being born into a home of mothers and babies. Driven by controversial government legislation on these institutions’ commission of inquiry records, Davenport’s testimony is at times candid and thoughtful, recounting how his biological mother was effectively tricked into consenting to his adoption.
Although his adoptive parents loved him “without limit”, he points out that “at the root of any adoption is the feeling of loss”, even more so when “it takes place under this veil of shame and secrecy”. “To recover my present, I need to know my past,” concludes Davenport, adding that the commission was “vitally important for us to recover our stories.”
It’s an eloquent and poignant opening plea, which O’Callaghan tempers with a light touch. We could do with more conversations like this.
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