Of all the times for Leo to be away... It was left to Simon to reassure us

BY any standards, it was a very odd announcement. As Ireland faces its greatest public health crisis since the scourge of tuberculosis was virtually eradicated, the Taoiseach spoke to assembled media to explain the latest measures put in place to halt the spread of Covid-19.

In previous years, when bad news was announced – and who can forget Charlie Haughey’s ‘we’re all living beyond our means’ address, even though it turned out he was the poster boy for flaithulach – news of grave import was delivered from behind a desk, with the relevant Taoiseach looking the nation in the eye.

Instead, Leo Varadkar stood at the foot of the steps of Blair House – Washington DC’s exclusive Airbnb, as it were, for visiting dignitaries – to tell us what we already suspected, that we have moved into phase two of the emergency, with all schools and universities to close, and all gatherings of more than 100 people banned.

Varadkar went ahead with the trip to the United States despite the fact each day at home was already seeing ever-worse news revealed; by contrast, Sinn Féin’s Mary Lou McDonald and Michelle O’Neill cancelled their travel plans and stayed put.

Leadership

Now, in this world of instant communication, you might say the Taoiseach frankly could have addressed us from Borneo with the same impact, but his being abroad sent out a very poor signal. In times of crisis, what we all want, what we all need, is not just leadership, but leadership of the most robust, sleeves-rolled-up and, most importantly, present-in-themoment kind.

Indeed, it should have been so way before now. When public health officials have been delivering their daily reports in other countries, the president, vicepresident or prime minister have been there too. Tony Holohan has been on television every night, and while he has shared as much information as he was prepared to, he has been doing it in the way you might expect of a public servant who also is a doctor: in a fairly clinical manner.

Politicians are different. They understand that as well as information, those watching need reassurance and empathy, maybe even to the point of sentiment. We don’t need the message sugar-coated because we know by now that many people here will die as a result of the virus, but we need it delivered in a human way. For all his many faults, there is no way Bertie Ahern would have left the messaging to a public servant; he would have at least been there, sitting at the desk, saying soothing words to the nation.

There is the nagging feeling that Varadkar somehow likes making important statements abroad, as if it somehow garners more attention for what he thinks on a much bigger stage.

In 2017, he prevaricated for months over whether or not he would support a referendum to repeal the Eighth Amendment to the Constitution, before finally confirming in January 2018 that he would campaign to that end, but he did not do so in Ireland. Instead, before telling his own electorate, he revealed his intentions at the World Economic Forum in Davos, and to the BBC.

It was an astonishing lapse in judgement, but not a surprising one, because he never looks happier than when he is off the island and in the company of the powerful. Kylie Minogue, as it happens, is not the only person who has left him starstruck.

Meanwhile, back at home, it was left to Tánaiste Simon Coveney to speak at the local press conference, and he performed as a statesman should. He delivered what will become the soundbite of the crisis, the archive clip at the heart of Reeling In The Years 2020 whenever it is made.

Reinforcing the social distancing message, he said: ‘The irony is that in order to pull together, we are asking people to stay apart.’

In 16 words, he encapsulated the very essence of the challenge we now face. Thousands and thousands of people are devastated they cannot visit elderly parents in care homes or in hospital. Grandparents will have to accept that, for now at least, it might not be wise to be in close contact with their grandchildren.

Partners in the same property may have to live separate lives if one is confirmed as having the virus while the other does not, and is forced to self-isolate in one room of the house.

Friends will not see other, and this is going to be incredibly painful for all of us, but there was something about Coveney’s manner – calm as ever, but forceful and, yes, deeply empathetic – that somehow softened what was a very big blow.

In a sense, this was not surprising. He played the proverbial blinder all through the lead-up to Brexit, and many of us marvelled at his ability to keep his cool when pressed by British journalists, especially John Humphrys during a spectacularly ill-informed interview on BBC Radio 4. Where many would have combusted with anger, the Tánaiste remain focused and unflappable, explaining nuance without ever appearing patronising.

Wretched

As things now stand, we are all in this wretched situation together, and this is not a time for me to score political points.

Varadkar has been astute on some issues, and woefully inadequate on others, but so too has Coveney, who made little or no meaningful headway as Minister for Housing. Each has his strengths, and each has his weaknesses, and both were conversely on display yesterday.

Put simply, the Taoiseach should not have travelled to the United States. He probably knows that, but he went anyway, and that is the key difference between the two men.

Coveney was here, present in the moment, and amply able for the task at hand. Over the coming weeks and maybe months, we are going to need leadership as we have never needed it before. We are going to need concise, meaningful and practical information and advice. We are going to need a senior figure at that table every night with Tony Holohan.

And when I think of who that should be, I also wonder one thing: did Fine Gael elect the wrong leader?