He might have a reputation as a dour, hardline unionist but Peter Robinson
reckons people in the Republic have a soft spot for him. "Once, they were so
pleased to see me they wanted me to stay for six years," jokes the DUP
deputy leader.
That was the possible prison sentence for leading a 500-strong loyalist
invasion into Co Monaghan in 1986. This time it will be different. Crossing
the Border on Tuesday will be Peter Robinson, budding unionist statesman and
de facto future First Minister of any new Northern Ireland Executive.
Who would have thought the 'Clontibret Cowboy' would end up guest speaker at
the Small Firms' Association's conference in Dublin Castle? He could
certainly teach them about strategy. Robinson (55) is the outstanding
unionist tactician of his generation. He is a creature of the night,
working on his computer, reading and preparing papers into the wee small
hours: "I never go to bed before 3 a.m."
He has modernised the DUP, transforming it from a fundamentalist sect into
the North's largest party. He will be instrumental in any peace deal.
Although a committed Christian, he is neither an Orangeman nor Free
Presbyterian, a rarity in his party.
He lives in a white Spanish-style villa in East Belfast with his wife Iris,
the Strangford MP. Their three grown-up children work for the DUP. A huge
Union Jack flutters from a 25-ft flagpole in the front garden. "The flag is
still flying," says Robinson. Round the back are his pride and joy - 1,000
Japanese Koi fish.
"As I'm not an Orangeman, one Twelfth I decided to dig a small pond for a
few fish. I took a spade but I hit rock so I hired a mini-digger. I got into
the digger and it was great fun. The hole just got bigger and bigger. A 3ft
pond ended up a 50ft one."
Personally, Robinson remains an enigma to many. While Paisley is warm and
passionate, his deputy appears cold and ruthless, though no longer
intransigent. He calls for Gerry Adams to be hung less these days.
He mixes confidence with self-deprecating humour and admits to being a shy
man. "I'm not the politician who becomes somebody's friend the moment he
shakes their hand. It takes me time to get to know people.
"I find it easier addressing a crowd of thousands than conversing on a
one-to-one basis. A downside of having a leader as charismatic as Ian is
that it's hard to have the confidence to do an Ian Paisley on a walkabout."
Robinson has perhaps never completely fulfilled his potential, educationally
or politically.
He has been bridesmaid to 'the Big Man' for 22 years. Last month, Paisley
(78) was in hospital and there were rumours ill-health would force him to
retire. But he was back this week, "like a whirlwind" in the words of one
insider, leading the DUP talks' team and denouncing all who claimed he was
dying.
The joke is that his ambitious, frustrated deputy will be a pensioner by the
time Paisley retires. Robinson denies he is chomping at the bit to take
over: "It's easy being deputy to Ian. I respect him enormously. We've never
had a cross word. I wouldn't have lasted 22 hours with David Trimble. Ian
will be leader for as long as he wants and I'm happy with that."
Robinson was born in Castlereagh, on the outskirts of east Belfast. His
father was a chef in a soldiers' hostel, his mother taught sewing. He was
forced to leave school at 16 when his father became ill - "we needed the
money". He went to work in an estate agency. Later, he studied law by
correspondence course but political commitments forced him to abandon it.
An Ulster Unionist has referred disparagingly to the "Castlereagh-tech
educated Peter Robinson". The DUP deputy leader says his achievements speak
for themselves. He met Iris when she was 17 and he was 18. He'd fancied her
for several years but gathered the courage to ask her out only after his
friend began dating her sister.
He wrote his first political pamphlet, The North Answers Back, when he was
just 18. Iris typed it. It wasn't all politics though. They went youth
hostelling in Brittas Bay and Silver Strand, "beautiful places with very
pleasant people".
Robinson entered full-time politics after his friend Harry Beggs (23), an
electricity worker, was killed in an IRA bomb in 1971. "Every time I look at
Gerry Adams at Stormont, I think of that," he says. He still refuses to
speak to Sinn Féin leaders. "If a DUP group is standing in the corridor,
Adams will come up and say 'Are you all right lads?'
"Of course, not responding is difficult. It's natural to be polite and Sinn
Féin make it as hard as possible for us. They're forever holding doors
open." He acknowledges Adams is smart: "Undeniably, he is capable. You only
have to look at how he led Trimble by the nose. I'd never make the mistake
of under-estimating my opponents' abilities."
Does he talk to Trimble? "I've been around on one of the few occasions David
has brought himself to speak to ordinary human beings. I'd a meal with him
at the Ulster table in the Westminster tea-room. He was perfectly charming.
The next day he passed without even saying hello. That's how he is."
He finds the Taoiseach "very easy to get on with and a lot more capable than
unionist folklore would have you believe". Ahern comes to the table "with a
nationalist disposition but that's not a problem so long as we know where
he's coming from". He senses Brian Cowen is "keen to get down to the
nitty-gritty", although "more belligerent on issues than his colleagues".
Is Robinson up for a deal? The IRA must decommission and end all violence
before Sinn Féin can return to government, he says. Cross-border bodies and
the Stormont institutions must become more accountable: "I want good
co-operation with my neighbours in the South but I want them as my friends,
not my family."
The claim that he's itching for a deal, which Paisley is blocking, is wrong,
he says: "When the DUP does a deal, we will take it to the people, explain
it, and stand over it. Trimble made dozens of secret deals. They don't work.
Ulster folk are straightforward. They want their politicians to be
up-front."
Under his leadership, Castlereagh became the North's premier council with
the best facilities and lowest rates. The impression is that Robinson would
relish the chance to do the same with Northern Ireland. He ran Regional
Development in the last Executive and was widely acknowledged as the most
impressive minister.
He has boldly promoted young and female talent in the DUP. It has now four
high-profile women Assembly members; the UUP has none. Robinson owns as many
ties as fish - he will have 1,000 to choose from when he leaves for Dublin
on Tuesday. A make-over, at Iris's instigation, resulted in a trendy new
haircut, glasses and wardrobe a few years ago.
Sometimes, he gets it wrong. Once, he was called at midnight to the
peaceline at Cluan Place where Protestants have clashed with Short Strand
nationalists. "I dashed out in my striped Versace jeans. Every time I go
back, they always remind me about the jeans."
His son Gareth borrows his father's clothes. "If we weren't married, I
reckon we'd both score if we hit the clubs," says Gareth. When Paisley
denounced line-dancing, a newspaper photo showed Robinson on the
dance-floor. "I wouldn't say I dance, that suggests something much more
technical than what I do. Iris moves and I sort of hang on."
He plays computer chess but has given up the stamp collection. He admits to
being a gadget geek. "You name it, I've got it," he says, rhyming off a list
of digital cameras, computer software, and iPods. A tee-totaller, his
tipples are ice-cold milk and diet coke. He loves the movies. His favourite
actor is Denzil Washington and he is totally dazzled by Julia Roberts.
