Kicking someone when they’re down, Mary Lou, is just plain bad manners
LEO Varadkar’s resignation came like a bolt out of the blue. Not only did it breach the convention in Irish politics whereby leaders must be dragged kicking and screaming out of office, and usually after experiencing a humiliating electoral wipeout, it also took his closest allies by complete surprise.
As the Taoiseach stood on the steps of Government Buildings, his voice cracking with emotion as he told the nation of his decision, the ashen faces of his inner sanctum told their own story, of shock at his quitting and empathy for their fallen leader.
But what unravelled shortly afterwards during Leaders’ Questions – the slot devoted to giving Opposition leaders the chance to put questions to the Taoiseach and Tánaiste – was even more unprecedented.
I turned on the TV expecting warm words of praise and applause for the man of the moment. I am no Pollyanna, but I assumed that Leo’s considerable shortcomings as a leader and his failure to live up to expectations would be swept to one side for the session – while his devotion of the best years of his life to public service took centre stage.
He had only just confessed to the public how he had been running on empty, so surely, I thought, now was the time for his opponents to pay tribute to his skills as statesman, the way he, to coin Charlie Haughey’s paean of self-praise from Othello, did ‘the State some service’.
Instead, I watched Mary Lou McDonald tear into him with her usual gusto, shamelessly weaponising his own admissions of weakness against him, while calling out the failures of the Government, contempt oozing from every pore.
‘You have stated that this is your time to go and that you are not the person for the job,’ she charged scornfully.
FOR a few moments I thought RTÉ was playing a reel of Leo and Mary Lou’s most vicious spats. In the bearpit of parliament, both leaders were each other’s match and what one could offer in terms of nasty invective, the other could meet in haughty condescension.
Then it dawned on me that Mary Lou’s denunciation was happening in real time and that she was using the Taoiseach’s farewell to pile pressure on the Government to go to the country, arguing that ‘the correct democratic route is to go to the people, put your record before them, and all of us to ask them, in a spirit of humility, who should lead – that is the democratic way to proceed’.
It is ironic to be treated to lessons in democracy from Sinn Féin – or indeed in policing, as occurred after the Dublin riots.
On that occasion, Mary Lou McDonald displayed the same lack of grace, blaming the gardaí for losing control of the city and allowing a mob to take over. When unity was needed as institutions of the State came under attack, she cynically exploited the situation for electoral advantage, tabling a motion of no confidence in Justice Minister Helen McEntee while declaring she had ‘zero confidence’ in either the minister or the Garda Commissioner.
Granted, Sinn Féin has been steadily moving into the mainstream, casting itself as a paragon of fiscal responsibility, closer to the ideological centre ground than ever. After years of objecting, it now seems to be grudgingly reconciling itself to the Special Criminal Court. Mary Lou McDonald and Pearse Doherty are also on an ‘outreach programme’ to reassure big business and the multinationals of their plans, with promises to keep our controversial corporate tax rate unchanged. Sinn Féin even seems to have diluted its wealth tax proposals. To its credit, the party has declined to spout the anti -immigrant rhetoric that is gaining ground in some parts of the country, and that decision has probably cost it some votes in rural Ireland.
But there is one area where Mary Lou McDonald could raise her game, one that comes at no political cost, and that is oldfashioned good manners. For there is something unutterably off-putting and unedifying about publicly bashing people when they are down.
A politician’s failures, no matter how consequential for the nation, do not confer on their critics carte blanche to launch blistering verbal assaults on the day they announce their resignation. Common courtesy alone demands they are treated with respect for at least one Dáil session in their career.
Of course, a firebrand like Mary Lou and her party may argue that the urgent problems we face with homelessness and healthcare give little scope for political niceties. But that is to miss the point about civility and how it oils the wheels of society and politics – and how voters frequently reward it in the ballot box.
Micheál Martin is the most popular political leader in the country, not because of his stewardship of his party but because of his personality. He may be ruthless and cowardly, humourless and as flawed as any of us, but none of these qualities overshadows his innate decency.
It means even voters antagonistic to Fianna Fáil agree that Micheál seems a ‘nice guy’. He is an antidote to the bruisers who went before him and visible proof that the raucous indignation of coarser politicians is just empty showmanship.
Mary Lou should take note.