“Until someone is prepared to lay out the systemic problem, we will simply go through cycles of finding corruption, finding a scapegoat, eliminating the scapegoat, and relaxing until we find the next scandal.”
Barely a month before, a day ahead of his final , he told fans: “Tomorrow night is going to be a night of endings for sure, but beginnings for definite.”
In hindsight, some might have called his words prophetic, others foreboding; but it seems certain he knew nothing about what was careering down the tracks.
It would take a long hot summer before RTÉ’s director general Kevin Bakhurst finally announced on August 18 that Tubridy would not be returning to his radio show, after a two-month controversy that became the most damaging crisis the broadcaster has ever faced in its almost 100-year history.
It was an inglorious sacking, painfully drawn out, and made worse the previous month by the performances of some politicians on the Public Accounts Committee (PAC) with their humiliation of Tubridy and his agent Noel Kelly during live Oireachtas TV sessions, the first of which had more than nine million minutes of online viewing.
No doubt it’s a date that’s etched forever in his memory, the day his career slipped from his grip and his life changed — Tuesday, July 11, 2023, when he was thrown to the lions in Leinster House, a place that’s not always known for its moral compass.
For the first time in its history, this online streaming channel, which most viewers to the event had never heard of, had bigger audiences than the annual Toy Show.
Pubs across the country showed the televised meetings on their big screens, while clips from earlier sessions were viewed millions of times on TikTok.
“This is my first rodeo being in the public eye,” Tubridy told PAC that day. “My name has been desperately sullied, I think my reputation has been sullied.” Strong words not used lightly, which led this writer to suspect he was being scapegoated as a result of a gargantuan cover-up — one that, it turned out, had been simmering for years.
In the words of American diplomat Madeleine Albright, “the cover-up, more than the initial wrongdoing, is what is most likely to bring you down.” And it did, royally.
It was a scandal waiting to happen, and it was allowed to happen, not just by successive RTÉ managements, but by governments who ignored the warning signs for years. Looking back at the cast of characters who testified at the hearings, the only one thrown under the bus was Tubridy. That tells its own story.
It wasn’t until Grant Thornton’s report was published in August two years ago that the facts became clear amidst all the convoluted evidence divulged by both sides. But by then, one man’s reputation had been badly harmed.
It found that RTÉ had intentionally understated Tubridy’s annual salary by €120,000 across the three years from 2017-2019 by driving down payments made to him to under €500,000. In total, Tubridy was overpaid by €345,000.
This conclusion cleared him of blame, which appeared at one point to be piled high and deep against him.
RTÉ essentially disregarded its own payroll system so as to undervalue Tubridy’s salary. Payroll software at the broadcaster clearly showed he was paid more than the €500,000 over each of the three years. According to the report, Tubridy was also entitled to a €120,000 bonus, which he chose to waive.
Hindsight can be merciless. What remains foremost in public memory two years later is the side deal with Renault, which RTÉ footed the bill for.
In 2020, Tubridy was paid by RTÉ in a sponsorship deal brokered by him, his agent and the broadcaster worth €225,000, in return for taking part in three corporate events for the car dealer, of which only one took place. He hasn’t repaid the outstanding €150,000.
Last weekend, media minister Patrick O’Donovan encouraged Tubridy to hand back the money, “so we can move on from it,” he said.
Ryan Tubridy has clearly moved on from it. He now lives in London, recently got engaged, and carving out a career for himself in radio, having been left with little choice but to leave the country, censured as the poster boy of a scandal he didn’t cause. He became the fall guy as accountancy practices that had been going on for years in RTÉ finally became public.
Was there any need for the public humiliation and the verbal flogging that Ryan Tubridy was subjected to two years ago? Did it serve any purpose, apart from dividing a national audience? If anything, it laid bare the banjaxed business model of RTÉ.
The station posted a €9.1million loss in 2023 when its licence revenue took a massive hit as a result of the scandal, which it likely will never recover from. Its business model has never worked, so how can it hope to be self-sufficient? Government handouts are RTÉ’s only hope of surviving, but for how long more?
I suspect Kevin Bakhurst is keeping a close eye on the BBC, whose charter comes up for renewal in two years; when the network will have to prove its fitness in negotiations in order to take on the next 10 years of public service broadcasting.
RTÉ has always fancied itself as a BBC-type replica with the additional benefit of commercial revenue income.
BBC’s charter comprises a trio of core objectives: the pursuit of truth with no agenda, an emphasis on its native culture and storytelling, and a mission to bring people together – not unlike RTÉ. But has RTÉ not failed in two of these objectives in the light of what happened two years ago?
RTÉ has a serious public service broadcasting remit, which is becoming more and more difficult to commit to in the modern climate of content-rich competitors with very deep pockets. In television land, new content is king. Repeating old programmes in order to fill a television schedule is one sure way to drive away viewers.
It’s difficult not to feel a sense of fatalism about RTÉ’s future. Its treatment of a presenter who is still loved the length and breadth of Ireland, along with its handling of the payment scandal, was a devastating error of judgement.
RTÉ’s director general said there was a “moral” case for Tubridy to return the money. Considering the scandal was of their own making, with disclosures of indefensible accounting and governance practices, and a propensity for decades of lavish corporate hospitality, RTÉ should be careful about highlighting what they regard as other people’s morals.
Grant Thornton’s report absolved Ryan Tubridy of any blame. Whether he should return the remainder of the private sponsorship fee he received is a matter for him to decide.
Unfortunately, the role that one individual found himself unwittingly cast into as the controversy unfolded two years ago, and how that role was sensationalised to the point where he was unjustly made out to be the villain, continues to overshadow the reality of a much greater scandal in which many of those responsible will never be punished.
Two years on, the least RTÉ could do is offer Ryan Tubridy his job back. Maybe then, in the minister’s own words, we can move on from it.
