It’s a fitting way for the ‘box office’ Taoiseach to bow out
Leo leaves after emotional speech
AND on that bombshell, as Alan Partridge would say.
Leo Varadkar’s shock resignation yesterday was one of the best kept secrets in Irish politics, one that took even insiders by surprise.
As Tanaiste Micheal Martin said afterwards: “I was surprised, very surprised. I didn’t expect it at all.”
Yet it was a fitting way for the “box office” Taoiseach to bow out, with his talent for grabbing headlines.
His goodbye announcement was a touch Theresa May, with hints of Kate Middleton, to a Frank Sinatra soundtrack.
Yesterday morning started as a return to business, with politicians back in the Dail for two days before heading off again for Easter break.
But then the Taoiseach summoned the media for a mystery meeting at midday in the grand courtyard of Government buildings.
What could it be? There could only be one reason.
GRAVE
The atmosphere was skittish as the press awaited, just an empty podium and an open door with a tricolour on one side and an EU flag on the other as hints of his arrival.
Seagulls squawked overhead, looking down on the sculpture based on Rodin’s The Thinker, about contemplation and introspection.
It was 12.13pm when Varadkar walked through the columns and down the steps towards the podium.
He was flanked by a Fine Gael phalanx with funereal expressions; Simon Coveney, Simon Harris, Hildegarde Naughton, Heather Humphreys and Helen Mcentee.
There was Paschal Donohoe, whose dimples had disappeared into his uncharacteristically grave face.
Harris, tipped as future leader, looked like an undertaker’s mute from a Dickens’ novel. The whole spectacle was surreal.
But nobody died – ultimately it was one man leaving an important job. It was Leo himself who brought a bit of normality to it, facing the nation with his usual cheerful demeanour.
Then he had a bit of a cry as he got to the more personal parts of his farewell speech – a dignified sob, as opposed to a big, snotty crying mess.
But he’s not known for being emotional – in fact he has often been criticised for a perceived lack of empathy.
His brand is more straight-talking.
He clenched and unclenched his hand on the podium and raised himself up and down on his toes as he read out certain sentences, betraying his
I want to give others the best chance possible
feelings on why he made the decision.
His voice cracked and he choked on his words as he spoke of “the personal and political” reasons for stepping down, which he said he came to after “careful consideration and some soul-searching”.
He broke down when he admitted that after seven years in office, he was “no longer the best person for the job”.
Varadkar said: “I want to give others the best chance possible and I think they will now have a better chance under a new leader.”
He got nostalgic when he recalled the places and people he had met in office, the things he had learned. It all felt a bit “parting is such sweet sorrow”. Yet there was a grimness in his voice when he added: “However politicians are human beings. We have our limitations, we give it everything until we can’t any more and then we have to move on.”
It sounded like he was suffering from burnout, the condition of the modern age. Does he care about what others think? It seems so.
He gave oxygen to online chatter saying: “There will be speculation
We give it everything until we can’t any more and then we have to move on
for the quote unquote ‘real reasons’ for my decision. These are the real reasons. That’s it.”
Perhaps he was looking to London and the furore around Kate Middleton, but he may have created a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Before he mentioned it, it seemed unlikely he would be the subject of conspiracy theories.
The reasons for his resignation are evident enough. His manner of leaving may be unprecedented in politics; he’s not going after a scandal, like Charlie Haughey, or after a failed election like Enda Kenny, or Brian Cowen after the bailout.
It was a bolt from the blue, but in fairness, Varadkar has just lost a referendum by the biggest No vote in Irish political history.
That’s a crisis of democracy, and the equivalent to losing an election, political sources say. Varadkar has also seen a haemorrhaging of Fine Gael TDS, with Ciaran Cannon being the most recent to announce he was leaving politics on Tuesday. He got it wrong on the choice for Fine Gael candidate in Dublin for the European Elections.
He’s grown out of it, or it’s grown out of him. Either way, all the signs were there that the Leo era is over.
He left the podium after his speech, the final curtain drawn down.
There was no response to seasoned political journalist Senan Molony’s shout-out asking if the referendum was the “final straw”.
We are left with more questions than answers. Will there be an election? Who will succeed him? Oddly, one of them is: What will we do without Leo?
As much as we gave out about him, and I did that more than most, he was one of the most colourful leaders we’ve had in boring old politics.