Political think-ins are like weddings. Everyone glows up; rose-tinted locations are chosen for the photo ops; lavish vows are made. But there are times when the sylvan fantasies cannot disguise the family secrets – past indiscretions, ancient snobberies, even a ghost. And the big day deflates like the leftover wine.
Despite months of attempted exorcism, the Simon Coveney/Katherine Zappone controversy was a phantasmagoric overhang at this week’s jamborees.
If the think-in, like the wedding, is supposed to show a party’s best self, the selves on show this week – self-aggrandisement, self-destruction, self-pity – made a sorry picture where, with apologies to Tolstoy, it seems that most political parties are unhappy in their own way.
Labour threw its keys in the bowl in a cold-blooded calculation to support Sinn Féin's no-confidence vote. Because? Well, because it could
Sinn Féin, of course, revealed no fault lines. The party had its magic money tree, always a winner at parties: pensions, houses, childcare and not a fiscal watchdog in sight. But its confidence came from grasping the gravity of the Coveney situation. Unlike media and politicians, deflected by the plainly misogynistic narrative portraying Zappone as a greedy, ambitious, nagging femme fatale, Sinn Féin kept its eye on the main chance: Fine Gael’s arrogant disrespect for its Government partners.
Labour threw its keys in the bowl in a cold-blooded calculation to support Sinn Féin’s no-confidence vote. Because? Well, because it could. Thus, Alan Kelly explained for the umpteenth time that Labour didn’t think the controversy warranted a head, but if there was one going, it would take its chances. And the word “principle” never arose. Never mind that the crude move might embarrass golden newbie TD Ivana Bacik, who had to apologise yet again for attending the Merrion Hotel bash.
The Greens were earnest – a carbon budget, more cycle lanes – but fractious. Their feminist deputy leader Catherine Martin said nothing about Zappone but was exercised by the party’s refusal to sanction Brian Leddin TD over a group WhatsApp conversation about a female councillor. “Silence is an enabler,” she said. Quite.
Silence also empowers. Angela Merkel once let slip that her political mantra has always been “Quiet is power”. Bet Leo Varadkar wishes he had a bit of it now.
For some reason, he chose Morning Ireland, on the day of his party think-in, to lob a new Coveney/Zappone grenade: a timeline purporting to show that Micheál Martin had been informed of the special envoy appointment the night before that fateful Cabinet meeting. Consequently, Varadkar stood under a noxious cloud of his own making on his party’s big day, wasting his media time apologising yet again to the Taoiseach for Fine Gael’s high-handedness.
It’s as if he thinks nothing through, but sniffs the political air, flies a kite and back-pedals when it collapses. As in his challenge to the National Public Health Emergency Team last year.
His red-eye radio flit drew a sharp response from the Taoiseach, who had put much on the line to preserve the stability of the Government. Although he must have known that, had the roles been reversed, neither Varadkar nor Coveney would have hesitated to shaft a Fianna Fáil Minister, Martin insisted that the Zappone affair didn’t warrant Coveney’s dismissal.
Fianna Fáil dissidents are not happy that Martin didn’t shaft Coveney.
It is a measure of their political myopia that they can’t seem to see that their constant destabilising threats might have stayed his hand on further instability. In the same way they can’t seem to understand that Sinn Féin is a militant organisation which requires a coherent, disciplined party to challenge its policies and take media space from the party.
Because incredibly, the big reveal of Fianna Fáil’s think-in was that the disappointing election results were caused by Martin’s devoting too much time to Sinn Féin. Too much time on the largest party in Ireland? Too much time on the main opposition and challenge for the next government? He would have been insane not to.
Those who object to Varadkar getting in touch with his inner festival animal have the wrong end of the stick. He is entitled to a holiday and nobody wants a killjoy Tánaiste
A weekend poll showing Martin level-pegging Mary Lou MacDonald in leadership satisfaction indicates that, in the public mind, Martin might be right. Besides, on what planet does a Government party not train its sights on its biggest threat?
Planet Fine Gael, perhaps?
Those who object to Varadkar getting in touch with his inner festival animal have the wrong end of the stick. He is entitled to a holiday and nobody wants a killjoy Tánaiste. It’s the inner errant schoolboy, who tries to trip up a duty-bound Taoiseach who had saved his bacon, which troubles.
Varadkar and Coveney, for most of this controversy, exuded an air of elitism. For Coveney, it was compounded by his simultaneous extravagant proposal to bring the America’s Cup to Ireland – a proposal which smacks of a late lunch in the Royal Cork Yacht Club.
A more apposite boat for Fine Gael to reflect on might be the Titanic – Thomas Hardy’s Titanic – a parable on hubris: “And as the smart ship grew, in stature grace and hue, in the shadowy silent distance grew the iceberg too.”
Certain silences do enable. Martin has been prescient about the silent Sinn Féin iceberg. Fine Gael’s condescending nonsense could well prove tragic.