Around nine days prior, the nation was in somewhat of a flap when the leader of Fine Gael, Leo Varadkar, stepped down, making way for Simon Harris to take his place four days later. April 9th will mark the day Harris assumes the high office of Taoiseach. Yet the initial flurry surrounding these changes quickly abated, suggesting they were, in retrospect, not as monumental as they may have initially seemed, and perhaps not largely consequential.
Fianna Fáil and Fine Gael, as political traditions, seem to be waning in importance; the age-old rituals associated with them, no longer seen as significant. The Irish landscape is shifting, leaving those institutions in an unusual position of stagnation while still in power.
Much of the recent alterations seem more akin to bureaucratic re-adjustments within the government’s upper hierarchy, rather than substantial, impactful changes. This perception stems from the perceived absence of a well-defined political intention within the governing body, which is nearing the end of its term with just one budget left to allocate. Unless an unexpected event occurs, almost all major decisions have already been made. The governments’ remaining days require choices regarding when and under what conditions it will finally yield power.
This situation presents an opportunity for Harris to make his mark. He is granted one last opportunity to redefine his party’s identity, which could potentially save it from an increasingly inevitable fate. His vibrancy is evident, and it may stir interest in his messages for a short period. However, he is bound by certain limitations and is racing against time. Trying to signify a shift, redefine Fine Gael’s identity, and foster a cultural connection with an evolving Ireland may be a significant uphill journey.
Fianna Fáil and Fine Gael, the two dominant groups in government operate in a kind of half-light, existing mostly as groups of TDs who function as affiliates of weakening brands. Party membership is diminishing and once robust community organisations now lie in ruins.
Political conventions which used to house fierce competition over coveted party nominations have now become rather lacklustre affairs. What was once an indicator of power is now just an empty shell. European Parliament conventions occasionally provide a respite as they serve as an escape route from national politics.
The upcoming local elections, only a heartbeat away, are not so much about the competition for positions but more about the struggle to find candidates. Most conventions are simply confirming those ready to take up the challenge. The dwindling significance of Fianna Fáil and Fine Gael is a clear sign that the times are changing, and the cultural environment that once supported them has dissolved.
In a nation flourishing with wealth and prosperity, political careers can be less appealing due to the abundant opportunities. The status of politics has seen a degradation as we assign the individuals we select for leadership roles as scapegoats for public dissatisfaction. It is an ironic twist that at a time when personal freedoms are increasing, there is an erosion of the protective barriers around politicians.
Fine Gael and Fianna Fáil are grappling with a perceivable identity crisis. Parties such as The Greens, Sinn Féin, Social Democrats, Aontú, possibly even Labour are discernible in their standpoints. The two major Government parties are rooted in the happenings of over a hundred years ago, with their cultural significance tied to the Gaelic renaissance and the Catholic Church. Their persistence and past significant accomplishments are impressive, yet each has strayed off its path, thus bringing them together. However, their union has been detrimental to their individual party identities.
Despite its struggles in the general elections of 2016 and 2020, Fine Gael has not been able to provide a satisfactory explanation other than accusing the electorate of being in error. Gradually, each electoral blunder has further entrenched them, initially due to confidence and supply, and later in coalition, in a predicament from which they cannot distinguish themselves and where they hardly represent anything.
His role within the party is reminiscent of trying to ignite damp firewood, considering that nearly a third of the party’s TDs are retiring, and none will run for the Taoiseach’s office. The essence of Fine Gael’s stance was not to figure out how to sustainably fund third-level education under Harris as Minister for Higher Education, though education significantly influences the economy and societal aspirations. Though Harris brings aggressive rhetoric to the table, he lacks a history of trailblazing initiatives.
When he undertakes his official duties at Áras an Uachtaráin on April 9th, he is practically starting with a clean slate. However, time won’t stop moving forward. It may be constitutional, but the idea of the Government carrying on until March 22nd, 2025, is politically absurd. If they were to listen to their own emphasis on the significance of St Patrick’s Day representation abroad, they’d realise they would be foregoing this duty, and thereby allowing it to become an electoral matter. If the new Dáil convened for its initial meeting in the week concluding on Friday, March 7th, voting day must be planned a week or more ahead so as to account for completion of all counting processes. Faced with these circumstances, the Government might as well pack up and prepare for a February election should they decide not to proceed in autumn. It’s hardly a choice that’s worth any serious consideration.
Harris is left with a fleeting political moment to reconstruct the image of Fine Gael. He has harnessed the power of social media, bypassing traditional political groupings. But he must not forget that as a party leader, it’s not just supporters on the web that matter. He needs an equally strong offline presence with concrete ideas that can be converted into actionable plans.