Leo’s difficulties centre on his tenuous connection with Middle Ireland
FINE Gael’s brand has been subsumed within its leader Leo Varadkar: Its Ard Fheis projects the image of a ‘Taoiseach For Our Times’ in a 24-hour everspinning news cycle.
Its trademark has been personified, Fine Gael has become a walking, talking Leo. Party leaders – especially Taoisigh – act as either chairman or chief executive. Enda Kenny was content to delegate to his frontbench, he played an overarching role.
But Leo offers a 24/7 running commentary on every issue, embracing traditional and social media. Whether it’s the Gate Theatre, ‘Star Wars’ groupie pictures, North Korea ministerial misadventures or poppy shamrocks, Leo is there to guide you.
This super-presence is different to anything that has gone before, partly because he’s 38, rather than 68, years old.
He represents a new generation of millennials. He ticks all the boxes: he’s a latte-drinking gym-bunny who can gulp down avocado smash with the best of them. He’s sunglasses-wearing and sufficiently hipster to go backstage at rock concerts.
For traditional aged Blueshirts, it is a hell of a leap from the starched, buttoneddown collar of the late Liam Cosgrave.
But for all that, Fianna Fáil and Fine Gael are pretty much indistinguishable, mainstream, popular, centrist parties.
They go elbow to elbow jostling for the largest chunk of electoral affection. Their respective policies, priorities and principles are sufficiently plastic to bend whatever way their leader demands on a given day.
That is why Varadkar has been so industrious in conjuring up new narratives to solidify an identity.
Small wonder he is caught in the crossfire of Opposition criticism claiming he is overly preoccupied with “spin over substance”.
They point to his shiny new Strategic Communications Unit under the Department of the Taoiseach, with its €5m budget.
But out of €57bn of the annual current public expenditure, this barrage still misses the target.
The critical change is that government communications are now centrally orchestrated by Leo’s lieutenants.
They are the masters and commanders of messaging. All ministerial press officers are subject to an overall communications hierarchy. Team-building involves explaining the captaincy structure.
Meanwhile, the pecking order inside FG’s parliamentary party is also changing, subtly but perceptibly.
Since the leadership hustings, there’s been a copper-fastening of power.
Cabinet and junior ministers’ re-appointments seemed to represent minimal upheaval. The senior ministers like Frances Fitzgerald, Richard Bruton and Charlie Flanagan – who early on declared their support – got rewarded.
On the flip side, Simon Coveney is on the way down. After a credible contest result, he was rewarded with the Foreign Affairs/Brexit portfolios.
But in Cork last weekend (at a non-political event), I detected a diminution in his standing locally and nationally.
The reality is that Paschal Donohoe is now the No 2 in the FG pecking order.
If Leo were to go down, it would be Donohoe who would be most likely to step up.
Having been de facto kingmaker for Varadkar’s victory (cleverly not contesting from the outset), he’s since merged the dual roles of Finance and Public Expenditure Reform.
He has also enhanced his economic credentials by setting down a spendthrift script for Budget 2018. Most of all, he has provided a safe pair of hands to maintain this rickety minority administration.
But further down the food chain of FG’s power pyramid,
Leo has also been busy.
His closest acolytes aren’t those who secured his majority of parliamentary party votes. The middle ground (Kenny-ites) were the winning cohort.
They included Michael Ring, Heather Humphreys, Paul Kehoe and Catherine Byrne. In the medium term, they’ll be overtaken by Leo loyalists like Helen McEntee, Joe McHugh, Patrick O’Donovan, Michael D’Arcy, Brendan Griffin, Josepha Madigan and Colm Brophy. But that is for another day.
Leo’s kitchen cabinet of inner confidantes remains steadfastly closest to the throne: Eoghan Murphy, Brian Murphy, Nick Miller, John Paul Phelan and John Concannon.
All have shown a tried and tested commitment to the Taoiseach, while he laboured in the vineyard. Everything – every pronouncement, tweet, trip, appointment and nuance – is predicated and strategised to granular levels.
There is a single focus. Polling day.
The next general election shadows every step Leo takes. But the timing of this is primarily within FF’s control.
It can topple this administration, and force an election, whenever it chooses.
The Dáil dynamic pivots on Micheál Martin’s electoral strategy.
Leo has had his successes. In tourism, he secured sustained growth through the abolition of the travel tax and lowering the Vat on the hospitality sector.
In health, there was the ending of the misguided Universal Health Insurance misadventure.
Significant extra budget resources to stabilise a disastrous decline in services were also provided.
He also handled the moving on of former Garda commissioner Nóirín O’Sullivan, and some explosive Garda revelations. But not a whole lot more.
Varadkar has proved his ring-craft by sidestepping political opponents, massaging egos and building interpersonal relationships.
Yet, where he’s unproven is in charting secure courses through stormy waters on key substantive issues.
Inevitably, it will be his responses to crucial national challenges that define his leadership.
On Brexit, we need to see a viable strategy to retain Anglo-Irish trade, investment, and jobs.
He must also maintain exports to the single market through the UK land bridge while adhering to eurozone commitments. A big ask.
On housing, the question is: Is the annual supply of 30,000-plus new units of accommodation actually in train?
And then there is the Eighth Amendment: Is there even a wording formula ready to put to a referendum?
And what about Garda reform? Has he a blueprint for radical modernisation and leadership reform?
On such urgent issues, it’s hard to see where he has made significant gains.
The other major doubt is his recognition of the emerging two Irelands – divided along intergenerational and geographic chasms.
The millennial generation resides in a bubble of social media, enjoying a gangbuster economy within the M50, whereas Middle Ireland exists silently, unnoticed, struggling with the legacy of the recession.
His real troubles centre on his tenuous connection with the latter.
He has total control of his party, but his grip on a national popular mandate is far less certain.
Simon Coveney is on the way down. In Cork last week, I detected a diminution in his standing locally and nationally