Whilst the local and European election campaigns were in full swing, the fourth daughter, alongside her associates, engaged in playful activities in the front yard. Their antics included enticing motorists to honk their horns and gifting homemade friendship bands to unaware pedestrians. A fresh-faced candidate, dressed in his best attire, unsurprisingly approached them and dispensed a collection of campaign leaflets for their parents’ perusal.
However, in a turn of events quite typical of such political documents, they were instantly relegated to the rubbish bin. The young girls were hardly bothered by this, as their favourite contestant – based solely on the electoral banners – was the female with the appealing hair, who was elected eventually. The one they interacted with – a proponent of a controversial open-borders policy who unfortunately lost the election – was deemed rather pleasant by the girls.
In transit to the bin, the leaflet did catch my attention. Its content was a peculiar melange of viewpoints, some decipherable, some not, with insufficient clarity on how exactly our lifestyle was under threat. Except for the urgency and severity of the threat, and his implicit claim as the sole saviour a la Superman, the leaflet offered little else.
The dichotomy of ‘Us’ versus ‘Them’ persists; who ‘them’ ends up being varies across candidates. I decided to do a bit of delving into his background which led me to the brilliant irishelectionliterature.com site maintained by Alan Kinsella. It was encouraging to see many individuals, especially the independents, participating so actively in the democratic process. Equally astounding was the self-esteem many of the candidates held.
An election leaflet provides a snapshot into the candidate’s ethos and agenda. The ones belonging to the most extreme nativist contestants offered a dystopian narrative akin to a James Bond thriller – complete with conspiring global sects, propagating pseudo climate-change beliefs, advocating toxic Covid vaccinations, and subverting the Irish populace for other communities.
Seán Moncrieff illuminated an interesting observation on his second day of taking parental leave. He talks about how the world of politics often portrays a two-sided reality in election pamphlets. These leaflets position the righteous voters on one side against different versions of the establishment on the other. The aim, he surmises, is to create a noteworthy election flyer which requires an antagonist.
Most of these pamphlets do not propagate wild conspiracy theories. Still, many subtly suggest a similar mindset by emphasising an “independent” stance. Even some affiliated with a party declare, “I am Independent”, implying they cannot be bought or manipulated by interest groups and hinting at a somewhat flawed system.
Interestingly, these independent candidates criticise this so-called “corrupt” system whilst endeavouring to join it. This is a system where accomplishing goals demands collaboration with the very political persons compromised by the system, the root of their justifiable indignation.
Seasoned Irish politicians usually dismiss these tactics, recognising the disparity in the narratives told during elections and the more mundane tales of governance. However, Moncrieff warns that dramatic election narratives colouring the realities of governing is a real danger. The UK serves as a prime example. Over the past 14 years, the Tories have demonstrated exceptional skill in weaving captivating stories that the British people widely accepted, facts and reality be damned.
Unusually, the Tories themselves seemed to digest their own fantasies, leading to their replacement by the Labour party, which astonishingly, proudly advertised itself as unexciting.
In the US, both presidential candidates seem utterly consumed by their own saviour-like narratives, regardless of the ensuing damage to their nation. Maybe in due course, the American public may grow weary of this relentless drama and embrace the comfort of boredom. After all, it’s possible that being bystanders may be what saves the world.
Moncrieff’s self-reflection concludes on an all too relatable point — why do we continuously engage in pointless online quarrels, despite always regretting it later?