The media imagines itself to be, in this country as well as in other democracies, the bulwark standing between the citizen and the ambitions of the political class. This is certainly a flattering self portrait, but one which has come under increased scrutiny lately, following the controversy surrounding Ivan Yates having offered coaching to senior political figures running for the same election on which he continued to comment publicly. The issue was not simply that such a dual role existed, but that this was not disclosed, leaving audiences unaware that an “independent” voice also had a hand in constructing some of the performances they were asked to evaluate. While few familiar with the Irish media landscape will be left astonished to see again that the lines between journalism, consultancy and political strategy often run concerningly close together, this incident begs the question – are such arrangements past the point of being tolerable? It also raises the possibility that the conventions which have governed political commentary to date have failed to keep pace with modern standards of transparency, undermining the foundations of trust in an institution which already is on uneven footing.
It was recently brought to light that Ivan Yates, the broadcaster, columnist, and long-standing public personality has been providing coaching for debates and interviews to failed Fianna Fáil presidential candidate Jim Gavin. More awkwardly yet, he had also coached the Taoiseach and several ministers while continuing to appear in some of the most prominent roles in media as an “impartial” analyst of the same election. Audiences were offered no disclosures, and seemingly neither were employers. Yates has even said, self-assuredly, that he has “broken no rules” – as if the absence of regulation is, in itself, a substitute for ethical principles. One sympathises with the more vocally dissatisfied of the public, who might have assumed that a commentator offering election analysis was speaking from a less biased position, and not from a candidate’s green room. For a figure presenting himself as journalist, pundit, analyst and opinion-shaper, the concept of transparency should be fundamental and valued. Yates, however, invoked a kind of “personal honour code”, insisting that he saw no need to disclose his dual roles. He leaned further on “client confidentiality”, as though journalism and political consultancy of this sort sat as comfortably together as bread and butter.
It has been argued that the whole affair was a storm in a teacup. Ultimately, Yates has never pretended to be an investigative journalist in the classical mould, and few might look to him for moral leadership. But this view misses the larger point entirely. If a commentator of high profile can first guide politicians behind the scenes, and later critique them on air without disclosure, it undermines confidence not only in him but in the entire media ecosystem that enables this to happen. And in Ireland, it is enabled – passively, languidly, almost with a shrug. Broadcasters do not have a history of demanding transparency. Regulators do not insist upon accountability as thoroughly as we may prefer them to. This system seemed surprised only when the matter became public – that in itself is revealing. Scandal is not a deviation from the norm; exposure is.
The danger here is not that Yates advised politicians – he is entitled to employ his experience, which proved ineffective to cure a stumbling Gavin, as he wishes – but that through the absence of clear disclosure, the public has been left with insufficient information upon which to form judgment. In democracies, the media is not a mere commercial sector; it is part of the very machinery of political legitimacy. When that machine runs without proper maintenance, without the appropriate level of oversight – it breaks down. Nor should we pretend this is an isolated case of negligence. Ireland has long blurred the lines between politics and journalism. The same figures circulate through PR agencies, ministerial advisory roles, broadcasting studios and newspaper columns: a game of musical chairs that allows them to avoid relinquishing influence. If the Yates affair has caused such visceral reaction, it is because this behaviour is familiar, and that people are growing to be increasingly tired of it.
Broader commercialisation of Irish broadcasting in recent decades has resulted in a situation where opinions are cheap, fact-checking is expensive, and audiences are assumed to be passive or apathetic enough not to notice the difference. When presenters are hired less for subject expertise and more for brand personality, the result is a form of politics as spectacle: lively, noisy, hollow. Perhaps even this is not the true scandal – the real problem is cultural. Irish media has become insider-focused, managed by a small clique of connected personalities who appear in one another’s works: interviewing one another, praising one another, and shying away from genuinely challenging one another in any meaningful fashion. Political correspondents mingle with the politicians, and lobby journalists form their worldview inside the same buildings they are meant to scrutinise. The ordinary citizen watching from outside sees only an endless loop of faces and voices nodding sagely at one another and speaking earnestly about holding power to account – while lounging comfortably in its foyer. It is no surprise that the audience’s trust is decaying.
If the future of media in this country is to become in any way more positive, certain reforms are unavoidable – mandatory disclosures of vested interests, the separation in practice, rather than in principle alone, of journalism from political strategy, and a regulator which is more than only a referee for broadcasting infractions. As to whether any of this will actually occur: potentially, but only if the public demands it with sufficient force. Institutions seldom reform themselves willingly. Those long accustomed to being treated as sages rarely volunteer to be audited. A meeting of the Joint Committee on Arts, Media, Communications discussing the challenges of news impartiality, to which Yates was invited, is not unlikely to prove insufficient in the face of an embedded cultural norm.
The old and elegant fiction of journalism as a noble calling still survives in Ireland – but increasingly, one suspects, only as a fiction. Unless transparency and accountability return to the centre of the craft, the public will continue to withdraw its faith, until all that remains is a performance: a troupe of well-dressed talkers speaking into microphones, admired only by themselves and trusted by no one.
