Parliamentary etiquette has gone right out the window these days.
What has the world come to when a well-meaning Taoiseach cannot waffle to his full potential because Opposition leaders insist on cramping his style with their constant interruptions?
It’s been playing on Micheál Martin’s mind for some time now.
One of them asks a question.
TD admits she hasn’t drunk alcohol in over 13 years during impassioned plea to not delay health-warning labels
Watchdog may compel Peter McVerry Trust to come before it amid growing anger over finances
CHI hearing: Some children who had hip surgery may not have reviews until next year, committee told
Minister seeks to ease fears of Airbnb hosts over new short-term letting rules
He endeavours to answer fully with an informed interpretation of what he thinks he heard; simultaneously mindful of all the stakeholders, the soon-to-be-published report of the rapid action emergency taskforce review committee and the One O’Clock news.
It’s a difficult, stressful job. But Micheál knows he is up to it, if only the Opposition would give him the chance to bloom.
As this new Dáil progresses, the Taoiseach’s patience has taken a nose-dive. He just can’t be dealing with the disrespect.
But it’s the injustice of the situation that really rankles
As he only said to his pal, the King of Jordan, when they met in Brussels the weekend before last: “The Opposition is wrecking me head, Abdullah.”
In recent weeks, Micheál has become noticeably more frustrated by questioners persistently butting in when he is trying to give them an answer. He complains a lot about this now.
They simply ignore him.
But it’s the injustice of the situation that really rankles.
A mere three minutes at Leaders’ Questions to answer, and then just one minute for the follow-up reply. That’s all the time the Taoiseach gets to say what he intends to say in response to what he thinks he was asked.
He needs every second of every minute to express his sincerity and empathy before supplying the facts and figures from his briefing notes and then expanding on them, going forward.
But Opposition TDs are stealing his time wholesale while accusing him of deliberately wasting time by talking too much around questions.
The Ceann Comhairle is no help to Micheál when he protests that he hasn’t been given long enough to answer.
Obviously a fan of the soft-boiled egg, Verona Murphy ruthlessly cuts off speakers exceeding their three minutes. No exceptions.
She won’t even relax the rules for the holders of high office. And as the Dáil’s referee, it seems she can’t stop the clock when there is an interference in play or add on extra time for stoppages at the end.
Micheál rarely intervenes when the various party and group leaders are asking their questions
On the face of it, the Taoiseach, confined to a tight time slot, seems to have a case. When Opposition speakers interrupt and delay him, he is penalised for their transgressions.
Micheál rarely intervenes when the various party and group leaders are asking their questions.
Sinn Féin’s Mary Lou McDonald is an inveterate interrupter. Constantly muttering at him to his obvious irritation.
On Wednesday, she was thoroughly unimpressed by his response when she called for stronger powers for Hiqa (the Health Information and Quality Authority), the body which monitors standards in nursing homes.
She didn’t interrupt his reply to her first question but made clear in her follow-up that it was not up to scratch. But during his second, one-minute reply, she kept pecking and pecking at him until he snapped.
“You’re interrupting again, deputy. I’ve had enough of that now. Deputy, I have the floor now ... ”
Well then, he should answer the questions, replied Mary Lou as Verona Murphy made the first of several attempts to keep the peace.
“Sorry, I will answer the question,” added the Taoiseach. “But you have a tactic all the time of interrupting every time I get to my feet and make a point.”
Right on cue, aided and abetted by her chief whip Pádraig MacLochlainn, Mary Lou ramped up the niggling.
Micheál tried to talk through the noise about the powers available to Hiqa.
‘Taoiseach, it’s not your fault,’ Verona sympathetically cooed as Sinn Féin continued sniping
But Verona’s egg-timer went off and she moved to cut him off.
“No, sorry, I … Ceann Comhairle …” he stuttered.
“I understand,” she soothed, not yielding an inch.
“No. Hold on a second …” cried Micheál.
But a second she did not have.
“Taoiseach, it’s not your fault,” Verona sympathetically cooed as Sinn Féin continued sniping.
Micheál was miserable. “But Ceann Comhairle, how long is this going to continue?” he wailed.
“This is the problem Taoiseach,” sighed the woman who sets the rules.
“Well, sorry, it isn’t my problem. I’m not in a position now to answer,” he huffed.
“They’re not hearing the answer because they are not listening,” sympathised Verona, with an eye on the clock.
Micheál was extremely disgruntled. “I can’t get my points across because of this constant pressure.”
“I agree,” said the Ceann Comhairle supportively.
Whereupon Sinn Féin’s Louise O’Reilly chirruped that he already had five minutes, which was more than enough time to give an answer, if he had one.
That put the tin hat on it.
The Taoiseach abruptly changed tack and decided to question the Ceann Comhairle about the unfair carry-on with the interruptions.
“I want a review of how this is happening.”
The chamber fell silent.
“It’s not your fault,” repeated Verona, interrupting him.
“Because I am not going to come in here, listen to everybody, give them the courtesy of listening and not being allowed to reply,” sulked Micheál.
“Absolutely. That’s the point,” she agreed, anxious to keep going.
If Micheál was having difficulty with this inflexible frame, Sinn Féin’s Pádraig MacLochlainn suggested a solution to the impasse
“That’s fundamentally wrong and it needs an intervention from you and the whips as well and the chief whips to sort this out,” fumed the Taoiseach as the noise from across the floor cranked up again.
Verona explained there is “a time frame” for providing answers.
Mary Lou helpfully stuck her oar in again.
“Answer the questions.”
But there is a time frame, repeated Verona.
If Micheál was having difficulty with this inflexible frame, Pádraig MacLochlainn suggested a solution to the impasse.
“Resign as Taoiseach. That’s the easiest way.”
Poor Verona had little comfort left to offer.
“If they choose not to listen, Taoiseach, it’s kind of pointless asking a question.”
She then embarked on a few words about how everybody should be afforded the opportunity to ask a question, as Mary Lou had been earlier, and ...
She was in like lightning, interrupting again.
It’ll be pandemonium until the summer break
“And I would expect answers to my questions.”
“I am speaking, deputy,” barked Verona.
A bold as brass repost came winging back.
“As am I,” declared Mary Lou. “I am entitled to ask my questions.”
“And I would expect,” retorted the Ceann Comhairle, reasserting her authority, the Sinn Féin leader not to speak when she is speaking.
She asked all deputies to show each other the same level of respect.
“In that way, the House will operate with decorum.”
It’ll be pandemonium until the summer break.
