Once upon a time there was a stock statement beloved of politicians who saw themselves as responsible. “Anger is not a policy,” they would say. Today, a stock statement of similar bent might apply to the general election. “Energy is not a policy, so it’s not.”
Energy is the theme behind Fine Gael’s election campaign. Sure, they have a slogan, “Securing your future,” but it is complimented by the pair, “A New Energy” and “New Energy, New Team”. All the references to energy are directly attributable to the manner in which Simon Harris burst onto the scene like a hungry Duracell bunny last April. It’s nearly as if he had been a secret weapon hidden away prior to that. And then when the situation was suitably desperate, he was cranked into action and sprung onto an unsuspecting public.
You’d swear he hadn’t been a minister since 2016, including in health in which he had to endure a vote of confidence in the Dáil. To be fair, he did perform with a high degree of competence in a caretaker capacity during the early months of the pandemic.
When he was voted in as Taoiseach on April 9 last, he was born anew. Like all the best artists, from Bob Dylan to Madonna to Lady Gaga, he reinvented himself for the next phase of his career. He accepted the role “full of energy and determination about what can be achieved”. He wanted to bring “a new energy and a new empathy to public life”. At the time, Sinn Féin were seven points ahead in an aggregate of opinion polls. Today, that lead has practically been flipped, a scenario for which Harris could claim a fair chunk of the credit.
Since assuming office he has resembled a Bertie for the 2020s. He is a fine communicator and has connected with huge swathes of the electorate. He never stops moving. He has the common touch of the giant at his shoulder, Mr Ahern. People genuinely like him. He looks as if he is enjoying himself in contrast to his immediate predecessor Leo Varadkar, who at times when mingling had the countenance of a man just after eating a lemon. The mothers of Ireland have collectively worried that he can’t go on like this for much longer or he’ll do himself some damage.
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(Enda went on to say at one point that he would “electrocute” the party, but it was in need at the time of a severe jolt of something).
Because he has been in effective campaigning mode for the last six months, nobody is too sure what exactly Harris stands for. How, for instance, he differs from Varadkar beyond the first class engine he possesses. He has given the impression of being a ‘something for everybody in the audience’ populist since he kicked off, but how will that fare when difficult decisions are required? Nobody has a clue where he stands on the climate and all the indications are that he will follow rather than lead on thorny matters like asylum seeker accommodation.
How would he react in a crisis? Where would his emphasis be in governing? He has a personal interest in disability but he wouldn’t be the first Taoiseach so disposed, yet an awful lot remains to be done in that sector. In the event of Trump’s America turning ugly, which sector of society would Harris expect to bear the greatest burden of cutbacks or austerity? He could turn out to be a good or even better Taoiseach or the job could be too big for him. Who knows?
The success that he has had in pushing his party up in the opinion polls prompted Fine Gael to believe that Simon Harris would be this year’s Mary Lou. In 2020, the Sinn Féin leader was a star, dragging her team over the line, fronting for a brand that saw unknowns and regular also-rans win unlikely seats for the party. McDonald’s performance was the main plank of the success that could have actually yielded power with a more expansive candidate strategy.
Fine Gael didn’t just want but needed such a figure this time around. Eighteen of their outgoing TDs, over half the full compliment, are not running for election. Incumbency is a huge advantage and Fine Gael are attempting to return to power for a fourth term with a low rate of incumbents. Just as so many said they were voting for Mary Lou in 2020, Fine Gael was hoping a similar cohort might think of the Harris brand in the same terms this time.
It hasn’t happened, not so far. Last Sunday at the party’s manifesto launch in the Horse and Jockey he looked tired, which is entirely understandable. Those who observe him up close say that he is still engaging to beat the band, doing his damnedest to introduce new candidates to a public that really only wants to talk to him or take a selfie. Of course, in 2020 McDonald had the advantage that she was selling change of one sort or another.
His luck is holding out in one respect. Mary Lou circa 2024 hasn’t yet measured up to her four-years-ago self so the competition is not what it might have been. A weakened Sinn Féin, even if it doesn’t mean more votes for the civil war parties, plays entirely to their advantage. As it is, the independents appear to be hoovering up the votes of those not bedazzled by the energy and looking for something different.
Meanwhile, in the wings, the old dog for the hard road, Micheál Martin, is beavering away, doing the work, bearing the cut of a man who’s quietly confident that when the votes are counted he will have first nibs at being Taoiseach again.
They are on the bend for home now with just a week remaining. Does Harris have another kick in him? His arrival as leader has been a dizzying exercise in rescuing what looked like a lost cause for his party. A sane person might assume that energy would be a given for anybody hopeful of leading the country, yet Harris has managed to make it look like it’s something he has concocted with a magic potion.
By next Saturday we will know whether his fairytale honeymoon will finally be consummated with the electorate. Before then, there is every chance in the coming days that the prevailing narrative can be disrupted, history’s trajectory redirected. You’d want a bundle of energy to keep up with the whole thing.