Saturday, November 21, 2009 Previous editions
Friday, October 30, 2009
THERE’S a section in Donal Óg Cusack’s excellent autobiography where he details how the Cloyne senior hurling squad and its management held "truth meetings".
These were straight-talking sessions at which each member was required to tell truthfully what he thought of the efforts of his colleagues — and to listen to what was being said in turn about his performance.
It sounds like a recipe for potential disaster — and, as Cusack relates, one player left the squad alleging bullying — but he maintains it provided the basis for the club’s on-field successes.
Everyone prepared properly for challenges and everybody pulled together once all of the cards had been laid on the table, even if there was to be no Cork senior hurling title at the end of it all.
Alan English’s wonderful book on the Irish grand slam success focuses on a similar theme: the fortunes of the Irish international rugby team seem to have been transformed by a session a year ago when young Leinster player Rob Kearney addressed the so-called elephant in the room.
Kearney, just barely a year in the squad, asked why it was perceived that some Munster players did not play as well for their country as they did for their province and, here was the incendiary bit, why it was said they might not care as much.
Marcus Horan angrily declared that he cared every bit as much about Ireland as he did about Munster and other players defended themselves, but the "truth session" lanced a boil and helped not just to break divisions between the players but to bond them further.
This is the type of thing that often makes people cringe or scoff. It is an American type of concept that has been imported from business as well as from sport.
However, it is something I’ve gone through in work situations on a number of occasions and, despite my initial scepticism, I have found it can have enormous benefits in flushing things out.
It can be amazing to discover what has been left unsaid but needs to be heard. Putting the views and information to proper use can produce beneficial results. There can be dangers in setting people against each other, but that won’t arise if they start with the desire to reach a common outcome, of making things better.
Done incorrectly it can be a dispiriting and counterproductive process, especially if the people involved are coerced into taking part, which can damage the confidence of individuals and destroy bonds in the group. But if that’s the case then the people involved may never have been good enough in the first place and need replacing. But reading these books — and recalling my own experiences — led me to wonder if the cabinet has ever had such a "truth session" where they lay all their cards on the table and tell each other what they think of the performance of the team and the individuals who make it up?
Would this not be very important now at a time when the economic challenges are probably greater than they have ever been and the decisions to be made by the Government therefore much more important?
But it’s very hard to envisage it ever happening. Politicians rarely like showing what they perceive to be weakness — or what others could see as being a weakness they could exploit to their advantage. Politicians rarely admit to being wrong, or if they do they excuse it on the basis of external forces or everyone else being wrong as well.
If most are thin-skinned about taking criticism in public there is little to suggest that they would do so in private, especially from colleagues who many regard as rivals as much as fellow team players.
On the other hand politicians are good at dishing out stick so it is possible that some would relish the opportunity of laying it on the line for others at the cabinet table — although those who might do so would probably be in positions of relative strength or be so isolated that they feel they have little left to lose. If some were inclined, then a truth session would surely involve ministers castigating Tánaiste Mary Coughlan for her poor performances in public, especially when deputising for Brian Cowen in the Dáil. Mary Harney could be asked to explain her grim determination to stay on, despite implementing few of the healthcare reforms she has promised over the past five years.
Martin Cullen would take more than a few raps for his invisibility — apart from his recent decision to try to defend his department from the abolition suggested by An Bord Snip Nua — although others might prefer if he disappeared permanently. Noel Dempsey might get attacked for doing the right thing — seeking to reduce the drink driving limit further — because it has provoked the ire of Fianna Fáil backbench TDs.
Batt O’Keeffe could let John Gormley and Eamon Ryan know what he thinks of their decision to undermine his planned education reforms. The potential for clearing the air is enormous.
The most useful discussions though could involve Finance Minister Brian Lenihan and Taoiseach Brian Cowen. There’s little doubt that Lenihan has laid out the financial position of the exchequer and his desire for cuts rather than tax increases. There is no doubt either that many ministers, fearful of the impact on their careers of overseeing major cutbacks to the budgets for which they are responsible, have been arguing with him over his plans, although probably not on a truthful basis.
Here would be the chance to get the remaining unspoken elements of the debate into the room, to ensure collective responsibility is as real as it is prescribed by the constitution. The really interesting discussion though would have to involve Cowen. He could be a Cusack — the first man to speak, to put it up to everyone — or a Declan Kidney — a facilitator as much as the leading figure — but he would need the guts to give and take criticism.
COWEN apparently has given his parliamentary party members a tongue lashing on occasions, but more as part of a one-way dialogue. Now, however, if he was to engage in full and frank disclosure he would have to take criticism over his style of leadership and be prepared not to harbour grudges to be repaid in the future.
Politicians are surrounded by sycophants and often hear what they want. Word has it that Cowen has a smallish retinue of advisers, many of whom may have his ear more readily than many of his government colleagues.
It is hard to imagine either that Cowen hears the full unvarnished truth from the ordinary people, even when he returns to his local pub in Clara at weekends. People will tell him he’s doing fine in difficult circumstances or acknowledge that it’s a very tough time for many, but they are unlikely to confront him, especially as they are still likely to be taking local pride in one of their own getting to the very top.
That leaves the media for his information — and it is probably ignored on the basis that it is biased or unduly negative. Even his ministers are likely to be selective in what they say, as interested in protecting themselves as doing what is necessary.
But maybe that is where a cabinet "truth session" should start. All ministers should be asked to confront this issue: which comes first, their party (which effectively means themselves) or the country? If the truthful answer is not the country, then they should all consider leaving the pitch. My guess is they won’t have the session because they’d fear an honest answer.
Matt Cooper presents The Last Word on 100-102 Today FM, Monday to Friday, 4.30pm to 7pm. His book, Who Really Runs Ireland?, was published recently.
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