As the presenter who pitches himself as possessing a direct line to the plain people of Ireland, Joe Duffy is in predictably high dudgeon on Wednesday, as he attempts to untangle the full story behind the covert surveillance operation. Less concerned by the eavesdropping itself than by the cack-handed official response, the host of Liveline (RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays) grows ever more exasperated as he learns how those valiant souls trying to stop wrongdoing are thwarted by institutions supposedly on the same side.
The only surprising thing is that Duffy isn't talking about the alleged bugging of the Garda Ombudsman's office – unlike just about every other radio show – but dealing with a more prosaic case, that of a victim of crime whose situation has been made worse by institutional arrogance: in other words, perfect Liveline fodder. The presenter hears from Robert, who in response to his home being burgled posted CCTV footage of the alleged perpetrators on a website, only to receive an email from the Data Protection Commissioner telling him to remove the material.
As Robert outlines the officious rationale behind the reprimand – not only did he put the burglars’ liknesses on his site without their permission, but any image of an individual committing an offence is also “sensitive data”, thus entitling the person to extra protection – Duffy whips himself into a lather at the injustice of it all.
“They looked at your case, such was the severity of it, and decided unless you track down those four thugs who broke into your house and get their consent you are committing a crime,” the presenter says, his voice thick with dramatic indignation. “Has the country gone mad?”
So it would seem, judging by the tales that follow. There is the Galway businessman who posted the image of a man who held up his shop at knifepoint – “The Data Commissioner says you can’t do this without his consent,” comments Duffy, by way of calming matters – as well as the householder told by the Garda not to place footage of a young vandal on his personal site, because “the crime hasn’t been proven yet”. “Are they saying he’s an actor?” the host asks, incredulously.
Duffy sounds almost comically incensed throughout, and it is all too easy to sympathise with the underlying sentiments, that those victims who try to fight back against criminals end up being treated as perpetrators. But while the Data Commissioner’s office seems to have its priorities badly mixed up, it is not quite so simple. One caller, Noeleen, flies in the face of the prevailing mood by reminding the audience about the existence of due process: “You can’t try people on the internet.”
Duffy maintains his annoyance about the treatment of Robert but grudgingly concedes the wider point about legal protections – as well he might, given that he spends much of his time championing the personal rights of his listeners. Still, it's classic Liveline : guiltily compelling and of the moment.
Duffy's on-air persona may play to the gallery, but he is a stickler for constitutional proprieties compared to Kenneth Egan. Speaking to Matt Cooper on The Last Word (Today FM, weekdays), the former boxer and Olympic silver medalist outlines his reasons for running as a local election candidate for Fine Gael, which boil down to the party being "the only one that asked me".
This is as close to detailed policy as Egan gets. He worries about the impact of drink, drugs and mental health problems in his Clondalkin constituency, but admits that he hasn’t a clue about politics. Asked what party he has voted for, he is cheerily candid: “I haven’t voted.”
All of which would be comical, were it not for the personal trials that Egan has previously suffered. For all his formidable presence in the ring, he has what he calls “a track record of addiction”. This certainly imbues him with an interest in such issues but equally speaks of a vulnerability in the face of the pressures of public attention. That he compares his recent retirement from boxing to “a death in the family” only reinforces the impression.
Given this, the most startling aspect of the interview is Egan’s revelation that Minister for Children and Youth Affairs Frances Fitzgerald, of Fine Gael, said he didn’t “really need to know about politics” to run for election, which smacks of cynicism, to put it mildly. By contrast, Egan sounds sincere and generous, as well as able to take things on the chin, as when Cooper wonders if the unexpected move into politics is down to “too many blows to the head”.
That tasteless comment aside, Cooper handles the interview well, pushing his guest about his motivations while maintaining a considerate and even affectionate mood. But if Egan emerges with his good-guy image weirdly enhanced, the political system that seeks to co-opt him seems more tarnished than ever.
After hearing Cooper and Duffy in action, it's little wonder people don't trust institutions any more.
radioreview@irishtimes.com
