GAVAN REILLY: A Government in a hurry after a whirlwind weekend
Friday, 16:33
The Fine Gael figures are in and everything so far seems tickety-boo. Nobody ever thought the FG electoral college would reject the programme for government, and the approval of 80% of members is certainly a firm endorsement – it’s entirely understandable that a fifth of members would reject the idea of government with Fianna Fáil, so the margin looks handsome.
That is, until I calculate the breakdown among individual cohorts of the FG college. When you figure out how many people voted in each category, and undo the weightings which make a TD’s vote more valuable than a councillor’s, the actual approval rate among FG members is 67.7%. Everyone is still waiting to see if the Green Party will give the deal a two-thirds backing: if Fine Gael members are only barely over that threshold, what hope of getting the Greens to approve it by a similar manner?
I put this to Leo Varadkar amid an otherwise victorious media op on the steps of Fine Gael HQ on Mount Street. His face seems to drop a moment as he asks me to repeat the question. Fine Gael’s party rules didn’t need the same margin as the Greens, he eventually says, shrugging off a point which immediately causes some concern among officials inside – as well as those at the Fianna Fáil count, a few kilometres down the road.
Friday, 19:35
Fianna Fáil’s count takes a bit longer to complete – the results were being compiled by constituency, so ballots needing sorting first – but there is no real danger of that party rejecting an opportunity to enter government. The only curiosity was how many constituencies might say no: the answer is only one, Éamon Ó Cuív’s Galway West.
Still, though, the FG result has raised some nerves. FF’s worst-case-scenario is that the Greens fall short of the two-thirds approval they need, in which case the likely outcome is a second general election. That is exactly what FF does not want right now, polling at 14%, having already had to concede that the more popular FG is a ‘like-minded party’ worthy of government, without the payoff of delivering any policies of its own.
The wait goes on. While FF and FG ballots had to be received by close of business on Thursday, the Greens allowed ballots to come in until noon on Friday – and then had to make sure that none of the paper ballots had been cast by others who subsequently voted by phone instead. The result is a belated start to the count and a total void of intelligence on progress… until the phones start pinging.
Ossian Smyth, a Green TD for Dún Laoghaire who supports the coalition deal, has tweeted an emoji of a smiling face. The relief is palpable.
FF backs the deal by 74%. Micheál Martin gives a victory press conference, now assured that he will become Taoiseach tomorrow. I ask how much of a factor gender and geography will play in ministerial appointments. The reply focusses more on the ability to deliver in the Departments that FF will control. Hmm.
Saturday, 15.52
The Convention Centre is an airy and soulless place, and the history of the occasion cannot overcome the echoing expanses of the quayside venue. Everyone is secretly glad that, as Micheál Martin has departed to visit the Áras, the circus has moved back to its traditional home for the afternoon.
That’s because after appointment, Martin will come back to Government Buildings to his new office, where he will begin the process of filling the rest of the Cabinet. Those who expect the phone calls to come, and plenty of those who don’t, have decamped back to the adjoining Leinster House so that, should the Taoiseach ask for them, they are just nearby. Journalists camp at the bottom of the main staircase, which links to an overground tunnel between Leinster House and Government Buildings, to spot those who are summoned.
Michael McGrath goes up, as does Darragh O’Brien, incongruously claiming he’s only heading to the shop. Stephen Donnelly goes up. Barry Cowen goes up. So does Norma Foley. Eventually, so does Dara Calleary. There is no sign of Thomas Byrne. Their arrivals are punctuated by Helen McEntee who descends the same stairs trying (and failing) to stifle a smile.
Wait a minute: wasn’t Calleary the last one up? Micheál Martin has five departments to assign and Calleary, his own deputy leader and the head of Fianna Fáil’s delegation which negotiated the government deal, is the sixth one he has summoned.
That night the gossipier FG sources continually text journalists wondering: what secret offence did Dara commit, so as not to be given a department of his own?
Monday, 13:44
Journalists are assembled outside the conference centre at Dublin Castle where the cabinet is preparing to meet. Calleary, who has vented his spleen to Midwest Radio, arrives with Michael McGrath. “All good?”, he cheerily greets the media. “You tell us,” we reply.
A BMW pulls up. It looks like the one Leo Varadkar used to ride in. We remind each other to fall into old habits and to call him ‘Tánaiste’, not ‘Taoiseach’ – advice which turns out to be misguided, when out of the front passenger seat climbs the non-Tánaiste Simon Coveney, a man we remind ourselves not to refer to him as Tánaiste. Varadkar, it turns out, arrives on foot – just as another augmented BMW arrives. Out of it appears Helen McEntee. “Look at you,” jokes her party leader, “with your fancy Garda car.”
Micheál Martin arrives in an enormous Lexus LS500h. It is one of the hybrids that the Gardaí had been trialling for use in the limited ministerial fleet (only the Taoiseach, Tánaiste, Minister for Justice and Attorney General have cars supplied). Eamon Ryan, who has parked his bicycle behind the cars of others, indicates his approval.
Monday, 16:09
The meeting was due to begin at 2:30pm (slightly delayed because Darragh O’Brien was late travelling over from his new office at Customs House) and cameramen are invited in to take a ‘tour de table’ shot at around 3pm, which usually indicates the formal start of the meeting.
At 4pm a text is distributed: ‘meeting over’. Those of us who remained on site pop into Bedford Hall for the press conference, scheduled for 4:30pm. Those who left will be comfortable in the knowledge that never in the history of humankind has a governmental press conference started on time.
Yet already the sizeable frames of Micheál Martin, Leo Varadkar and Eamon Ryan are at their podiums. Most of the journalists haven’t arrived yet; RTÉ has a cameraman but no reporter. In a constructive spirit I suggest we stall for a few moments to cater for any nearby latecomers. The Taoiseach and Tánaiste, killing time, observe that I have had a haircut. Varadkar – who has already tweeted a picture of his own lunchtime trim – beams when I suggest mine was cheaper. Ryan, now resembling Rudi Völler in his prime, asks for a recommendation.
Martin breezes off any questions about geography or gender in his cabinet, and tells us he’ll be too busy to pop into any pubs or restaurants for dinner on this first day of Phase 3. The press conference finishes at 4:40, around the time we’d expected it to start.
The new Taoiseach is into his Lexus and away. The new Government is in a hurry.
Read Gavan's column every week in the Meath Chronicle
Gavan Reilly is Political Correspondent for Virgin Media News and Political Columnist with the Meath Chronicle