After more than 17 years under the national spotlight in the Dáil chamber, former taoiseach Leo Varadkar this week surprised no one when he announced that he will be quitting politics at the next general election. His decision to step down as taoiseach and Fine Gael leader in March was one of those bolt-out-of-the-blue political moments that took everyone aback – his party members, his Coalition partners, the Opposition and the public.
Why would anyone give up the powerful office of taoiseach, the most coveted political job of all? In truth, it wasn’t just a matter of wanting to give it up. Varadkar did something which is becoming increasingly difficult in fractured modern-day politics: he read the room. He sensed that voters had soured on him and that a major shake-up was needed if a disaster at the local and European elections was to be averted. This, undoubtedly, formed part of his considerations in advance of making the call. Elections, as they always do, focused minds.
Contrast this with what has unfolded in the United States, where President Joe Biden has spent the last few weeks desperately clinging on in the hope of remaining on the ticket as the Democratic presidential candidate. He insisted he was physically and cognitively match-ready. His stumbling, halting performance in the televised debate in Atlanta completely undermined his defence and upended his campaign at a historically significant moment, with Donald Trump again on the precipice of power. After the debate, Biden compounded the problem by mistakenly referring to Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelenskiy as Russian president Vladimir Putin at a Nato summit. At a press conference, he wrongly referred to vice-president Harris as “vice-president Trump”.
In the days and weeks since that seminal debate, he faced a growing chorus of calls from Democrats to step down. Many of them, including former speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi, are said to have told Biden that he would ruin Democrats’ prospects of winning the House in November if he stayed in the race. Even when his own party was publicly urging him to read the room, his response was laced with what can only be described as hubris: he told ABC’s George Stephanopoulos, when asked about potentially taking cognitive tests, “You know, not only am I campaigning, but I’m running the world.” In a press conference he said: “I believe I’m the best qualified to govern. And I think I’m the best qualified to win.” In all of this, vital time and ground has been lost. In the words (ish) of Taylor Swift, you should know when it’s time to go.
What has played out in the US shows that a refusal to face the facts can have far-reaching historical consequences for worldwide politics. The same rings true domestically. While Fine Gael accurately read the runes in advance of the most recent set of elections, it is Sinn Féin which is now picking up the pieces from a disastrous local election campaign, where the party finished third with less than 12 per cent of the vote, although there were bright spots in its European election performance.
Beyond clarifying its immigration stance, Sinn Féin must also now sharpen up its canvassing infrastructure and candidate support system amid internal criticisms. It must decide whether to double down on the message of change, alter it or abandon it
Following an internal review, party leader Mary Lou McDonald recently gave a run-through of what went wrong. She did not put a varnish on the results of that review. She said that Sinn Féin had generally “lost trust” and that the party had got it wrong on the family and care referendums.
McDonald also said senior figures in Sinn Féin were “disappointed” with her engagement with the party’s base and that members want her to be her “absolute and authentic self”. The party also wants her to be clearer on policy issues and more available to them. There have been criticisms that in some broadcast interviews before the local and European elections, McDonald seemed woolly on certain policies.
On immigration, she said Sinn Féin had “failed to reflect where most people are at”. The party is due to launch a new set of immigration policies on Tuesday, most likely focused on international protection. The aim here is to present a clearer pitch to the electorate. But how much will they actually differ from Government policies? And will new or better-articulated policies be enough to reclaim the support of lost or floating voters with potentially only 16 weeks until a general election?
What is evident, however, is the grounds on which the next general election will be fought. The Coalition parties will defend their record, and Sinn Féin will hammer home shortcomings or failures in housing or health. It will be an election framed around the fear of the unknown versus the fear of the same. Beyond clarifying its immigration stance, Sinn Féin must also now sharpen up its canvassing infrastructure and candidate support system amid internal criticisms. It must decide whether to double down on the message of change, alter it or abandon it.
One option open to Sinn Féin is to launch a plan outlining what it would do in the first 100 days of Government, a move which could help voters to visualise what that message of change actually looks like in the real world. Then there is the issue of identity: many grassroots members want Sinn Féin to go back to basics and own its republican credentials loudly. They also want the party leadership to win back votes lost in some working-class communities. And then come the crucial decisions about imminent candidate selection conventions. In the last general election, Sinn Féin was accused of running too few candidates. In June’s local elections, it was accused of running too many. For Sinn Féin, reading the room has never been as important.