Happily taking care of business

THE student held out a form and thrust it under Sean Gallagher’s nose.

Written on it was: “Strip for Sean.” She was saying something about her and others stripping to their underwear and parading around, all to support Sean’s cause.

For a few seconds, it looked like Gallagher’s squeaky clean image might be under attack. Candidate embroiled in striptease controversy. But it turns out that the Sean in question is another student for whom a fundraising drive is taking place. Gallagher continues to squeak around in his shiny, happy image.

On Tuesday he was in Dublin City University to meet and greet. The place was hopping for clubs and societies week. It was all colour, fun and hip-hop music renting the air, and Gallagher moved through the throng like a pro.

Twice he was approached by young men who had just started a company. Any chance of a pic? For young entrepreneurs, Gallagher has high celebrity, as a result of his role in Dragon’s Den and the general thrust of his campaign.

Others were as starstruck. Visiting schoolkids clapped when they saw him, and only half in jest.

Everywhere students stared as his small entourage moved through the stalls.

“That’s Sean Gallagher, one lad who’s not like the politicians,” one explained to a companion.

Inside the main building it was all drum and bass, high octane babble and stuffy air. The candidate worked the room with ease. At every juncture, he introduced his wife Trish and engaged with representatives of clubs and societies.

He became animated at the table advertising karate. He has a black belt.

A constant stream of students queued up to shake his hand. There was only one dissenter during the 90-minute visit, a male student. “Oh no, Sean Gallagher, no, no, no.” What’s wrong with him? “I went to Dundalk Grammar School and he… economics… no, no.” Did he teach you? “No, just… I can’t take him.” The young man slipped off as if in fear of some sort of contamination. But otherwise, Gallagher went down a bomb on campus.

His appearance said a lot about his campaign. The election takes place on a Thursday, ensuring that many students are unlikely to vote. Statistics from past elections suggest younger voters are less likely to vote in a presidential poll. No other candidate is scheduled to visit DCU, and why would they, with such a low chance of harvesting many votes? Yet, Gallagher, in a combination of evangelical zeal and naivety, took his message to the students.

The same forces informed his decision to forego the use of posters. It was an admirable display of regard for the environment and the cost of electioneering. However, he, more than any other candidate, could have done with boring his mug into the consciousness of the electorate.

There have been other minor moves that ordinarily might have won him brownie points. Drawing back from seeking the endorsement of local authorities after he got the nod from the magic number of four, showed magnanimity.

His suggestion that the taxpayer be saved up to €10 million by effectively pooling the leaflets delivered to homes is another impressive move. Yet his campaign still lacks the something to drive it up to a plane where the prize is within his reach. He’s doing all the right things, but little credit is accruing.

The thrust of his campaign appears to be more suited to somebody running for executive office, rather than what is effectively a non-executive role.

His electioneering spiel is littered with business jargon. He told the Late Late Show that in terms of any salary, he would “give a good return on investment”. At his campaign launch speech last Sunday, he said things like, “the only solution to unemployment is job creation … I want to do for enterprise what Mary McAleese did for the peace process”.

He spoke about markets in the East and stabilising the economy and a competitive environment. He also mentioned disability and community, but pushing business is, to use the jargon, his unique selling point. In effect, he is applying to be national evangelical entrepreneur, rather than ceremonial head of state.

He has a backstory of political gold. From Ballyhaise, Co Cavan, he was born with congenital cataracts.

“I didn’t see until I was four when a surgeon gave me the sight I have today,” he said last Sunday.

After school, his first career move was into agriculture, but at 26 he retrained as a professional community worker. A few years later, he became an adviser to former Fianna Fáil health minister Rory O’Hanlon.

His next leap was into business, first as a motivator with the Louth enterprise board, and then as an entrepreneur, setting up a company that installed technology in residential homes.

He made a fortune, but suffered with the downturn in the construction sector. The public came to know him through Dragon’s Den. The disability, the profile and the background in both community work and business make up raw material any political spindoctor would kill for.

On the other hand, the association that dare not speak its name in today’s world haunts his candidacy. He was an active member of Fianna Fáil, and therefore bears some responsibility for the Famine, the Great Plague and other disasters.

He’s up against it, but Gallagher has made a virtue of beating the odds all his life. Most likely, he will end up among the also-rans, losing the race but enhancing his reputation.