Vincent, Rosenstock and fried brains: Who wouldn’t have a media phobia?

SHE was the first candidate elected in this historic election, coming top of the poll in her constituency.

She did it despite a knock-down drag-out row with Vincent Browne. Or partly because of it. She did it despite Mario Rosenstock doing a riotous mimicry of the knock-down, drag-out row with the aforesaid Vincent Browne. Or partly because of it.

In the process, Joan Burton sailed into the teeth of one of the greatest fears afflicting politicians: the fear of media, serious and funny.

Now, let’s be honest, media loves to instil that fear. In fact, in this election, media, on occasion, served much more than the role it should fulfil.

On radio and television, some interviewers fought with candidates, particularly the more senior of the species, losing interest in interviewing and moving with one leap to a position somewhere between KGB interrogation and a straight cleaver-assault.

Politicians of more than one party found themselves interrupted so early, as they made a point, and so repeatedly, when they tried to answer the next question, that the sound of their brains frying became almost audible to the listeners.

Three reasons lie behind this. The first is Vincent Browne, who has brought New Journalism to a point of such contagion as to ensure that the rest of media behaved as if Enda Kenny should get points on his license (not that he’s going to be driving himself for a few years to come) for opting out of the first leaders’ debate.

Half of the others, not including the inestimable Sean O’Rourke, seemed to think they had to out-Vincent Vincent. Not an achievable objective.

The second factor is ratings. Every radio station was in fierce competition with every other radio station to present not current affairs, but excitement. Since the campaign, particularly as presented by Fine Gael, carried little if any excitement, setting fire to political interviewees seemed a good alternative option.

The third reason is the subliminal realisation that none of the people the broadcasters were interviewing will have either power or money to do anything interesting, other than keep the economy afloat, in the foreseeable future.

Some politicians were more than able for the onslaught. Labour’s Ruairi Quinn is possessed of a calm which never flags. He refused to answer questions he didn’t like the look of, refused to accept premises embedded in those questions, and was instrumental in the adjustment (positive word for U-turn) managed by Labour in the last week of the campaign, which undoubtedly drew voters back to his party in the final few days.

Micheál Martin, who has to have lost three suit sizes in the course of this election, did more than his best for his party, although it was clear from the outset that, Titanic-fashion, he hadn’t half the life boats necessary to save political lives.

Michael Noonan managed to be cool, witty and relentless, as if he was born in a TV studio and was a native speaker of the broadcasting language.

The newcomers need to learn the language of media quickly. And that doesn’t mean staying on message and refusing to answer questions. It means saying what you want voters to hear in terms voters find interesting. Do that and media, for the most part, will let you at it.

They also need to be unafraid of being different. While Joan Burton’s resolute refusal to acknowledge an oncoming full stop can at times be a disadvantage, she is not just well informed: she is distinctive. That matters. Listeners need to know who you are, the moment they hear you.

Neither Michael Ring nor Willie O’Dea is readily confused with any other politician. The same is true of Joan Burton.

On the face of it, the downside of this is that it’s easy to end up in a cartoon, a satirical programme, or in the hands of a Mario Rosenstock. That’s never a disadvantage, as long as you’re not portrayed as a dithery ignorant moron. Joan Burton probably doesn’t sit, cup of tea in hand, watching her portrayal by Rosenstock for the sheer pleasure of it, but the reality is that he increased top-of-the-mind awareness of who she is and arguably, as a result, contributed to her coming in so early and so easily.

Soft media was used by Bill Clinton effectively more than a decade ago. Satirical media will be enormously important from now on, and new politicians should not dread the day when they appear in such media. It will make them more distinctive and memorable. People like candidates who make them laugh, even at one remove through caricature.

YESTERDAY the fascinating outcome of the campaign was that it was difficult to identify many of the politicians who talked on radio, because so many of them had voices softened by hoarseness earned through repeated media appearances and through arguments on the doorsteps.

Ultimately, that’s where this campaign was won. On the doorsteps. Because, for the first time ever, voters came to the doors in tears. Or in a blind fury. Or with a list of specific questions they wanted to ask.

In some cases, voters actually told candidates, on sight, that they were voting for them, but they still wanted clarification on what precisely the candidates planned to do.

In that regard, the independent candidates are home free, whereas Fine Gael and Labour are on a deep hook. The independents will quickly become media darlings, the more so the more radical or passionate are the points they make. But they can’t deliver anything, so they get media presence without responsibility.

The two putative Government parties, on the other hand, will be grievously unpopular quickly. Voters may have put them in office without hearing any promises from them. Some of them, like Michael Noonan, eschewed the easy line of offering hope and repeatedly pointed to difficult times ahead.

And whereas it is good to hear politicians admitting the prospect of difficult times for us, the voters, as opposed to the ridiculous and offensive way Fianna Fáil has been patting itself on the back for “making difficult decisions”, the fact is that when those difficult times come home to roost in homes where sleep is constantly interrupted by fearful imaginings, voters will gain nothing by blaming Fianna Fáil. A dead horse is not worth kicking, and so the kicks will go to Government parties.

That will be tough for backbenchers of both parties. It will be hardest on the Labour Party, which, seated on the Government side of the house, will be forced to watch Sinn Féin prancing into a new position as the emotional leaders of the Opposition, with the inevitable fear that in five years’ time, no matter what Labour achieves, the disaffected and disappointed left-wing vote will migrate to Sinn Féin.

Toughest of all, of course, is the situation, today, of those who lost their seats, their livelihood, and in some cases, their self-respect. We have become so furious and cruel a society that the general reaction to their loss is “serves them right”.

It would be a pity if one of the outcomes of this election was a refusal to acknowledge that many of them tried hard and were ignored by the Government of which they were part.