“Issue with Highly Online Taoiseach”

Simon Harris is exceptionally adept at digital communication, a skill he regularly displays across various social media platforms. His TikTok account, boasting 98,200 followers and gathering 1.9 million likes, has seen him upload 290 videos, thereby averaging about two videos daily since his appointment as Fine Gael party leader. His Instagram following is equally as significant with 181,000 admirers, and he has shared over 1,721 posts and reels that ignore the ephemeral nature of stories.

Despite his ubiquitous presence and relentless engagement with followers, understanding his stance on prominent issues is challenging. His TikTok content predominantly features video selfies, with occasional diversions – for instance, his widely viewed butternut squash soup recipe released during Christmas 2021. His videos have shown more ambition lately, especially with the expansion of his support team, by sharing high-quality compilations of his public interactions.

Harris recognises the preferences of his audience and appears to adhere to the formula of simple, unfussy content. Be it presenting himself in professional attire against flocked wallpaper or casually discussing matters in a navy sweatshirt, Harris is consistent. Video highlights include showcasing his working environment at the ministerial corridor, dancing joyfully with school children, and completing Wordle challenges. He assures his followers of straightforward, spin-free content, encouraging them to join him for updates and ask him questions.

His Instagram posts often highlight snippets of his personal life, such as pictures of his children and pet dog and the occasional motivational quote. These posts provide a glimpse into his life off the clock, creating a balanced appeal that first arose during the initial stages of the global pandemic.

Regarding his personal beliefs or values, apart from limitless self-confidence and constant #positivevibes, the massive volume of his social media activity doesn’t offer much insight. Harris, like many thriving social media icons, possesses a sort of enigmatic charm. His followers have the liberty to imagine him with whatever characteristics they prefer. He skillfully creates the impression that he doesn’t take himself too seriously while treating you and your worries with utmost seriousness. His ending remarks usually being “Night” or “I’ll chat with you shortly”.

In the midst of the pandemic, his nightly live broadcasts depicted him as a leader with command (even when he wasn’t officially handling the Health brief anymore) while simultaneously being someone trying to navigate through life like anyone else. In January 2021, he expressed his longing for spontaneous meetings, closeness and stated his belief that such times will return. His followers seemed insatiable. One wrote “Thank you Simon. You are my pillar of sanity in this chilling time of solitude,” during that month. Another predicted, “I think you should swap roles with Leo [smiley emoji]”.

The fact that a country’s leader takes the initiative to connect with the public in their comfort zones- be it at a marketplace in Ennis, on TikTok, or amidst relentless lockdowns and isolation, is commendable. Garnering the title of the “TikTok Taoiseach” at a time when New York Times announced the first “TikTok election” in the US, is hardly something to complain about.

How much of a presence should a political figure have on the internet? Broadcasting to followers on social media platforms is a relatively safe endeavour. However, the risk surfaces when politicians begin to concentrate on the responses received. If a politician were to exist solely online, they might mistakenly believe that subjects such as hate speech laws, immigration, puberty blockers for children, and the supposed ‘liberal agenda’ are the primary concerns of the voters. Yet, according to a recent Ireland Thinks poll for the Sunday Independent, citizens remain uneasy about the issues they have been worried about since the previous election: housing, healthcare, and cost of living. Immigration is a worry for one in four; the rise of the far right concerns 8%; Government corruption troubles one in 20. On subjects such as Government leaning (too conservative or too liberal), hate speech or trans rights, opinions were divided. This is just what to expect in a robust democracy, where voters’ opinions are inconsistent and divided.

A Taoiseach who is highly active online must avoid seeing the world exclusively through a social media lens or running the country through a sequence of viral sensations. Pledges like constructing 50,000 houses each year might earn you applause on TikTok. However, subsequent explanations of how this will occur beyond vague promises of ‘moving mountains’ or ‘hitting the ground running’ must occur at some point.

Simon Harris, a shrewd politician and a skilled communicator, has thus far demonstrated a stronger aptitude for social media than for grand podium speeches. This ability has earned him a sense of mystery among older politicians who view the digital landscape somewhere between nuclear physics and sorcery. But it’s less likely that voters will be impressed as such.

On becoming Taoiseach, his first day was marked by an absence during the Leaders’ Questions, making him vulnerable to unavoidable criticism from the Opposition. Yet, he found time to upload a video on TikTok, two posts on Instagram and stay actively engaged on X. Would the public tolerate a head who appears excessively concerned about social media followers and, in the words of Sherry Turkle, a sociologist, is incessantly preoccupied elsewhere?

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