From confessions to complaints: Why Joe Duffy was Ireland’s Pope of radio

As one man assumes the mantle in Rome, another relinquishes it in Ireland.

You see, there are similarities between the Pope and the soon-to-be retired presenter of Liveline on RTÉ Radio 1. Firstly, you must be a good listener. The stories of a nation will lend themselves to your ear, and you must be willing and ready to heed every word. You’ll hear confessions of every kind. Maybe it’s murder, an affair, or how the neighbour’s cat keens like a banshee every night, and no matter how often you ring the council or the guards, they won’t evict them because the owners of the cat, technically, own the house. 

“It’s a disgrace, Joe, it’s an utter disgrace,” says Mary on the line. 

The Pope and the presenter of Liveline must be impartial to the wonders and woes of others. There is no judgment because only God has the grace to do so. For the Pope, this has been easy, as the teachings of the church must be upheld. On the other hand, the Liveline presenter’s mask will often slip – usually around caller number four – and you can practically hear his soul leaving his body when the topic and/or caller irritates him. 

The presenter in question is, of course, the legendary Joe Duffy and his similarities with the Pope don’t end with a few confessions. No, you see, both Joe and the Pope are seen as moral authorities. The Pope must carry the weight of Catholics across the world, Joe must sustain the complaints of people across Ireland who have nothing better to do with their time on a weekday afternoon. Joe and the Pope can never escape being icons, symbols of trust. Then they are both surrounded by the devout, the Pope with the Catholics and Joe with the pensioners and finally, both rarely get a day off. 

While Pope Leo is in the early hours of his reign, our Joe Duffy is bidding adieu to the last of his. The island was shocked when the beloved presenter announced his retirement live on air, but to do it any other way would have been a disservice to the aura of Joe and Liveline. The show often amazed and astonished its listeners, dropping verbal bombs like a country at war. So to casually inform the nation on a random Thursday, right before white smoke billowed from the Vatican chimney, was peak Joe. 

@rteradio1 Joe Duffy to hang up his Liveline mic ?? ?? “I hope in some small way, we made people feel heard.” After 37 years in RTÉ and 27 years at the helm of Liveline, Joe confirmed today he’ll retire following his final programme on Friday 27th June. Joe said: “After 37 wonderful years here in RTÉ, and 27 years presenting Liveline, it has been an incredible honour and privilege to be part of a programme that relied entirely on trust: the trust of our listeners. People felt they could pick up the phone, ring Liveline, and share their lives, problems, stories sad, bad, sometimes mad and funny, their struggles, and their victories. I never took that for granted, not for a single minute. RTÉ has been a great place to work. Public service has always been at its heart. And now, after many happy years, I’ve decided the time has come to move on. I would like to thank you the listener for tuning in each and every day, it has been an honour to sit in this seat and hear your stories.” During Joe’s tenure, Liveline has been a vital outlet for citizens. Joe also hosted a wide range of programmes for television, including Liveline Callback and The Meaning of Life, as well as several acclaimed documentaries. Joe has been a recipient of many awards during his acclaimed career, including a Jacob’s Award in 1992 for his work on The Gay Byrne Show, various IMRO Awards and he was also inducted into the PPI Hall of Fame in 2013. An icon of the airways! Wishing Joe all the very best in retirement. ?? #Liveline ? original sound – rteradio1

In 2018, I had the pleasure of being interviewed by Joe on the show. At the time, a friend and I were trying to find a new house to live in. The housing and rental crisis was in full swing, and queues formed at almost every house viewing in Dublin. Our situation was so precarious that we ended up having to share a bed in the room she was about to be evicted from. Following an article I penned on the stressful matter, we were asked to speak with Joe. As always, he was an alert and attentive listener. However, as we tried to roar about the dysfunctional state of Ireland’s rental system, Joe was more interested in the fact that we weren’t a couple but were sharing a bed. When I jokingly admitted that I’d once tried to spoon my friend, mistaking her for my boyfriend, his confusion only deepened.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he breathed. “And you’re sure you’re not a couple?”

But that was Joe’s gift. He knew exactly what listeners wanted and what they needed to break through the monotonous hours of the weekday sludge. 

Liveline with Joe was an arena for both the silly and the serious, a place where outrage over bin charges could sit beside raw grief and ghost stories. It was public service broadcasting at its finest.

We laughed and cringed in 2020 as callers expressed outrage over the sex scenes in Normal People. And we were saddened and enraged for those who rang in following ‘Golfgate.’ These people grieved lost loved ones they hadn’t been allowed to visit during lockdown, while politicians, judges and other prominent figures enjoyed a dinner hosted by the Oireachtas Golf Society at the Station House Hotel in Clifden. 

And then we listened, spellbound and stupefied, as callers from every corner of the country phoned in with stories both trivial and transcendent, and Joe listened to every single one. Often, it felt like some people just wanted a chat, and Uncle Joe always obliged, helping them to feel less alone. 

It must be a heavy weight to carry such a burden, but Joe never flinched. You always sensed he adored his job and respected his callers, even when they exasperated him. We’ll miss his warmth, his humour and that unmistakable Dublin lilt. We’ll miss hearing “Talk to Joe” at the same time every day, like a bell ringing for the Angelus.

We’ll miss a bona fide broadcasting legend. 

He will never be replaced. 

And when his replacement is announced, I think RTÉ should take a cue from the Vatican – white smoke billowing from a chimney in Donnybrook.

Sure, it’s only right.