Limerick’s mayoral election will either be an embarrassing novelty or a brave new world

The vote, to be held four weeks from today, is an important experiment in extending local government and taking power away from faceless, unelected officials

Ireland is now a state of disbelief, assaulted by algorithms sent from dark places. Thirty four per cent of us believe “a small, secret group of people is responsible for making all major decisions in world politics” according to the Irish Electoral Commission’s research. It was youthful innocence when the most outlandish conspiracy theory was a moving statue. Re-establishing belief will be a complex process. Reinvigorating local democracy seems like a step forward.

Limerick city and county will directly elect its own mayor four weeks from today. It will either be an embarrassing novelty that will never be repeated, or the beginning of a major change in how democracy and politics work. It is an important experiment.

Local government in Ireland is feeble. The Council of Europe says that comparably “it has a more limited set of functions, represents a smaller share of public affairs, and can only marginally influence the size of its resources”. Only Moldova and Hungary have stronger central governments relative to the centre. Money talks, and the local government’s share of total public expenditures is 9 per cent here, far below the European Union average of 23.3 per cent.

The new mayor of Limerick won’t be a cure for this, but the office is an honest attempt at subsidiarity, the principle that decision-making is taken at the lowest possible level. As the State starts its second century, this is the first instance of the direct election of an executive office. It is also a throwback to a time when there was intense localism in the Irish political system.

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The abolition from 2004 of the dual mandate whereby TDs could also be councillors, and simultaneous abandonment of plans for directly elected mayors, gave us the worst of all worlds

National politics was a secondary interest for many TDs, and few thrived as ministers unless they applied themselves to local issues. Ministers were expected to be tribal chieftains and exercise patronage locally through networks of councillors and co-operative officials. The late John B Keane’s Letters of an Irish Minister of State, and his previous Letters of a Successful TD are a satirical insight on the era.

The abolition from 2004 of the dual mandate whereby TDs could also be councillors, and simultaneous abandonment of plans for directly elected mayors, gave us the worst of all worlds. Handyman TDs came to be despised emblems of the jobbery we had supposedly outgrown. National policy was to be their thing going forward. The cleaning of the stables that accompanied the tribunals in the Noughties, saw a further evisceration of local government, and it was delivered bound and gagged into the hands of unelected city and county managers, now CEOs.

These sometimes effective CEOs are commissars for what is almost the most centralised system of local government in Europe. The most prominent politicians in the community are banished from the councils and the locus of power further concentrated in the hands of almost anonymous officials. The CEO, whatever their personal charm, is institutionally a distant figure.

Power, to be believed, must be seen. The election of Mary Robinson in 1990, in the first contested presidential election since 1973, reinvigorated the office of president. But the future mayor’s democratic mandate is only a start. What matters are the actual powers, and what will matter most of all will be the skill of the first mayor to animate them credibly. A lot rests on Limerick’s choice.

The executive power of the new first citizen is significant, if limited. They oversee strategic planning, housing strategy and co-ordination locally of plans and policies on transport and the environment. They will set out their mayoral programme within four months of election and draw up the annual budget. The mayor will be an ex officio councillor, accountable to the council, and ultimately dependent on marshalling its support. That political skill must be matched by capacity to harness the executive, whose role under a renamed director general is to support the elected mayor.

A directly elected mayor is the logical outcome but delayed consequence of abolition of the dual mandate. The world has changed, but the need for direct access to people who make decisions is real, and its absence has consequences

The mayor has the right of audience twice a year with ministers in Dublin, and has the right to convene national agencies about planning and delivery in Limerick. If matched by skills to manage the council and executive, this role as convener and champion is potentially potent. It puts a name and a face on power, if power can be summoned from the constituent parts of what is proposed. Councillors acting in concert with or in opposition to the mayor have an enhanced standing. Engaging with the CEO was playing handball against a haystack.

Local TDs and ministers lose exclusive rights as gatekeepers to central government because the mayor of Limerick is now an actor in Dublin. A directly elected mayor is the logical outcome but delayed consequence of abolition of the dual mandate. The world has changed, but the need for direct access to people who make decisions is real, and its absence has consequences. Irish politicians are extraordinarily accessible by international standards. But in devolving power to State bodies, or councils run by officials, they castrated themselves. Directly elected mayors are unlikely to be a simple panacea for anything – but it does put a name on a face. And that’s a start to reimagining power.