One of the surprising things about Norn Ironpolitics is that politicians tend to get on rather better than you might imagine.
Not always, of course. Indeed, some politicians seem to have more difficulty getting along with colleagues in their own party than with their political opponents. Perhaps that’s because they spend rather more time dealing with them.
But there is also genuine cooperation across party lines, particularly on constituency issues. Whatever their constitutional aspirations or political differences, most politicians recognise that they have constituents to represent and problems to resolve.
And sometimes you see a rather different side of a politician when they’re away from the television cameras.
Gregory Campbell in the Bogside
Some years ago, I attended an SDLP Youth conference at Cultúrlann Uí Chanáin in Derry.
The Cultúrlann is a centre for Irish language and culture, with a café, bookshop and meeting facilities. It was an interesting setting for a political conference, particularly given its location in a strongly nationalist part of the city.
I was there to cover the event for this blog.
And who should walk in but Gregory Campbell, the DUP MP.
Now, Gregory Campbell is perhaps particularly remembered for his notorious “Curry my yoghurt” remark, mocking the Irish language in the Assembly in 2014.
It was the sort of comment that understandably caused considerable offence. Indeed, Campbell was prevented from speaking in the Assembly for a day after refusing to apologise.
Yet here he was, at an Irish-language cultural centre in Derry, addressing young members of the SDLP.
He had been invited to participate in a panel discussion.
Think about that for a moment.
Here was a DUP politician attending a youth conference organised by a nationalist party, in an Irish-language cultural centre in Derry. He could hardly have expected to win many votes from the people in that room.
He didn’t have to be there.
And equally, SDLP Youth didn’t have to invite him.
Both deserve some credit for that.
What particularly impressed me was Campbell’s contribution to the discussion. He spoke about disadvantaged areas of Coleraine, within his constituency, where young people felt alienated from politics.
Some didn’t vote. Some didn’t see any reason to vote. Some simply didn’t believe politics had anything to offer them.
He spoke with an understanding of the problem that I hadn’t necessarily expected.
I came away impressed.
That doesn’t mean I suddenly agreed with Gregory Campbell’s politics. I didn’t. Nor does it mean that I excuse his remarks about the Irish language.
But I had seen another side of him.
A School Visit in Upper Bann
Politicians also regularly engage with young people through school visits, discussions and organised trips to Stormont.
These events can be valuable. Young people get to meet elected representatives, ask questions and discover that politicians are human beings rather than just faces on television.
Something similar happened in my own constituency of Upper Bann about a year ago.
Four of the constituency’s five MLAs attended a discussion at a Catholic school.
I wasn’t there myself, but I subsequently spoke to one of the young people who attended. He has since gone on to university.
His impressions were interesting, although they are, of course, the observations of one young person rather than a definitive assessment of the politicians concerned.
The politician who impressed him most was Doug Beattie of the Ulster Unionist Party.
Beattie is a former British Army officer and a committed unionist. He has made efforts to reach beyond traditional unionism, although I sometimes think his approach to nationalist outreach has been a case of one step forward and one step back.
There have been encouraging gestures, but also remarks and controversies which have undermined them.
Nevertheless, my young informant found him particularly impressive that day.
Diane Dodds of the DUP spoke extensively about health and disability issues. These are subjects in which she has a strong personal interest, not least because of disability issues within her own family.
Her contribution evidently reflected that commitment.
John O’Dowd of Sinn Féin might have expected a sympathetic reception from at least some of the audience. Yet my informant was rather less impressed, describing his contribution as somewhat waffly.
Eóin Tennyson of Alliance apparently made a similar impression.
But Tennyson also said something which caught my attention.
An Alliance Regret
The politicians were asked an interesting question.
What was your biggest political
In deference to Tennyson and the quasi privileged nature of talking to high school students, I wont go into detail.
What particularly struck me about Tennyson’s reported answer was its honesty and frankness.
He had identified an episode in his own party’s history which I have long regarded as a serious mistake.
I might disagree with Alliance on many things, but I can certainly respect a politician who is prepared to acknowledge an uncomfortable episode in his own party’s history.
And perhaps that is one of the benefits of these encounters with young people.
Politicians are sometimes asked questions which produce more revealing answers than the familiar exchanges on television.
Away From the Cameras
Watch a political discussion on television and you might imagine that Norn Irons politicians can barely tolerate being in the same room.
There are disagreements, interruptions, accusations and the occasional theatrical display of outrage.
Some of those disagreements are genuine and profound. They reflect different political traditions, different constitutional aspirations and very different interpretations of our history.
But that isn’t the whole picture.
Politicians from opposing parties frequently work together on constituency matters. They may disagree about the constitutional future of Norn Iron while agreeing that a local school needs support, a road needs repaired or a family needs help with housing.
They are often on first-name terms, even when they don’t particularly like one another.
And while the television audience sees the confrontation in the studio, it doesn’t necessarily see what happens beforehand.
In the green room, waiting to go on air, the same politicians may be chatting quite amicably.
That doesn’t make their political disagreements any less real.
It simply reminds us that the public performance of politics and the everyday practice of politics aren’t always the same thing.
And perhaps we would have a better understanding of Norn Iron politics if we occasionally paid more attention to what happens when the cameras are switched off.
