Labouring against diehards and cynics

Campaign trail Labour's candidates in Dublin are as different as chalk and cheese, but share a taste for trying to turn around…

Campaign trail Labour's candidates in Dublin are as different as chalk and cheese, but share a taste for trying to turn around disillusioned voters, writes Róisín Ingle

Strolling down a sunny Grafton Street, nose peeling from all that fair-weather canvassing, European candidate Proinsias De Rossa explains how the smoking ban has turned into one of the hottest issues on the doorsteps of Dublin.

"I met one woman," he says, "who lost her job in a small pub because it's being turned into an off-licence. She wanted to string Micheál Martin up from the nearest lampost. There is an awful lot of anger out there."

Later, to prove his point, he stops to canvass a man smoking outside a cafe. What does he think of the smoking ban? "Ah, I think it's fair enough," says the smoker amicably. "I'm just waiting to get a seat outside".

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Those pesky voters never say what you want them to say when you want them to say it. De Rossa's running mate, Ivana Bacik, doing the doors around Sydney Parade in Dublin, has just explained how many voters are voicing anger at the broken promises of the Government when a man defiantly claims the opposite.

"I'm voting Fianna Fáil, I always have," he says. "Are you not fed up with them?" enquires Bacik. "No. I'm not and I'm giving no transfers to Labour," he replies.

"Wow," says Bacik as she walks to the next door, genuinely surprised by the pride in the man's voice.

"Admitting you are voting Fianna Fáil these days is rare. It's like when I lived in London in 1992 and everyone thought Neil Kinnock was going to be elected because on the doors nobody was admitting to voting Tory.

"But then the Conservatives got in and we were all wondering who voted for them. It was like masturbation. Nobody wanted to admit it".

You are unlikely to hear De Rossa expressing the same sentiment quite as colourfully but the contrast between them is part of the reason both believe the Labour Party is in with a fighting chance of taking two seats in Dublin.

Opinion polls suggest De Rossa is fairly certain to be elected while Bacik will have to improve by a couple of points to steal the fourth seat from the Green Party's Patricia McKenna and Sinn Féin's Mary Lou McDonald.

In style, if not substance, De Rossa is chalk to Bacik's cheese. De Rossa has held traditional fundraising activities, including a garden party and a raffle. Friends of barrister and Trinity professor Bacik have thrown art-themed table quizzes and Eurovision nights, and afterwards the candidate can be found dancing the night away in Lillie's Bordello.

Bacik, who is strong on issues such as extending parental leave, won't be canvassing outside churches. "I don't go to Mass, so I wouldn't do that," she says. De Rossa reveals he is planning to make an appearance outside Mass "when it gets nearer election day".

His election leaflets are safe and unsurprising. She, on the other hand, uses those free postcards distributed through cafes, pubs and nightclubs to raise her profile. "Kiss with your eyes closed", reads the slogan on the postcard which features a couple wearing butterfly masks, "vote with your eyes open".

There is a high recognition factor with De Rossa. People stop and want to shake his hand. He strolls about the city with confidence, happy to engage in conversation about the issues, relishing the challenge of converting voters who have yet to make up their minds.

Bacik is occasionally recognised as "the woman on the TV" or "the woman in the black suit on the poster", but at Blackrock DART station it's just as likely that an old man will shake his head and say "aren't you a bit young?" when introduced to the candidate.

But when she is recognised the praise is effusive. "At least you have guts. At least you stand up for what you believe in," says a young man outside a supermarket, commending her anti-war stance.

The two candidates get on well. "He is being very supportive of me," she says. "I was very keen that she was asked to stand because she is a progressive, young and feisty woman," says De Rossa.

When they meet accidentally on Grafton Street they joke that they should try and get more press coverage by manufacturing a bogus election spat. "We could have a fight on O'Connell Street," jokes Bacik, who as an articulate anti-amendment spokeswoman is already performing well in the publicity department.

It's clear De Rossa believes his 10 years as an MEP gives him the edge on other candidates. When one young man stops him and asks what he should be asking the other candidates who "by the way I don't know anything about either", the 64-year-old doesn't miss a beat.

"Ask them what kind of Europe they support. Ask Fianna Fáil do they want properly regulated, decent working hours or are they opposed to that, because they are," he says. "They are currently opposing the draft directives on temporary agency work. There are about 90,000 people across the EU working through agencies who have no rights. That's the kind of question you need to be asking them". The man is impressed. "Just what I wanted to hear," he says.

Another man sitting outside a café on George's Street is less enthusiastic. "I'm not voting," he tells De Rossa who visibly bristles at this news. Why? "Well, I might vote for Sinn Féin. I like Gerry Adams' style."

De Rossa is not letting that go. "What about their policies?" he asks. "Sure who stands by their policies anyway?" retorts the man. De Rossa is trying hard to tell him that he is somebody who stands by his policies but the man talks about how the "two major political parties have lied and deceived the public for too long. I am sick of the whole lot of it."

In Sydney Parade, Bacik has a similar argument with a man through a window because he can't be bothered to come to the door. "I don't believe in any of it," he says. "Are you an anarchist? Some of my friends are anarchists," she says. "No, I'm not I just won't be voting". "You won't change anything without taking action," says Bacik, not trying to hide her disapproval.

For the most part though she is polite and breezy on the doorsteps - "Thank you, you are very kind" - occasionally bursting into high-pitched giggles at the more original comments.

"We need more women in politics," says a male former vet who is among those delighted to answer his door to Bacik. "Of all the species I have ever had to deal with the female were always smarter than the male."