In the 2004 local elections, the highest vote in the country went to a 25-year-old candidate standing for Fine Gael in Fingal County Council.
Leo Varadkar, a young doctor of Irish and Indian parents, received an astonishing 4,894 votes, amounting to over two quotas, in the Castleknock local electoral area.
His rise had been dramatic. Five years before, in 1999, Varadkar, then 20 and a student at Trinity College Dublin (TCD), had also contested the local election. His grand total then was a paltry 380.
Varadkar attributed his success to the fact he was “the first of a new generation” that had grown up in the area. By this time he had built a profile in student politics at TCD and, nationally, by his contributions to Fine Gael national conventions, as well as inveterate letter writing to The Irish Times.
RM Block
Across the river, another high-profile TCD graduate and a contemporary of Varadkar’s was also performing heroics in what is now Dublin Bay South. First-time candidate Lucinda Creighton (24) was the first to be elected in the Pembroke local election area.
After her election, Creighton also spoke about being of a “new generation” and of wanting to do things differently. Obviously ambitious, the young Fine Gael councillor said she hoped that within 10 years she would be a “working politician who is contributing to national policy”.
“I didn’t think it would happen this soon and at this age,” said Creighton at the time. Varadkar warned her not to overplay the youth card, she said, but the electorate liked it.
[ Diarmaid Ferriter: Departing Fine Gaelers leave a mixed legacyOpens in new window ]
The electorate liked Paschal Donohoe too. He was also a TCD graduate, though, at 29, he was a few years older than Varadkar and Creighton. Donohoe had left a high-flying position with Procter & Gamble in the UK to become a politician. He too was elected to Dublin City Council.
The three were among a large crop of young councillors among 290 elected for Fine Gael. Those June elections proved to be something of a watershed for the party. Only two years before, Fine Gael had been brought to its knees in the general election, losing 23 seats and being annihilated by Fianna Fáil. A total of 31 TDs remained after that 2002 collapse: and some commentators were openly questioning if the party could survive.
But now the party, under its relatively new leader, Enda Kenny, was buoyant. Its strong local election showing, Kenny argued, showed that Fine Gael was on the road to recovery. What moved the success into bonus territory was that so many of its ambitious young councillors could already be pencilled in as possible Dáil candidates: Varadkar, Creighton; Donohoe; Jerry Buttimer in Cork South Central; Brian Gillen in Rathmines; Naoise Ó Muirí in Clontarf: Maria Bailey in Dalkey: Brian Walsh in Galway West: Michelle Mulherin in Mayo; and Michael D’Arcy in Wexford.
Because the party had suffered such a heavy defeat in 2002, many of these political tyros would not have to serve a long apprenticeship before getting on to the candidate slate for a general election. As things transpired though, some of the class of 2004 never made it out of the reserve team. Some had to wait until later elections to get their chance; Ó Muirí was first elected to the Dáil only last year, 20 years after his council success.
Both Varadkar and Creighton were elected as TDs in 2007. Donohoe failed in the notoriously difficult Dublin Central but won a seat in the Seanad and entered the Dáil four years later.
Of that list of hopefuls, it was that threesome – Varadkar, Creighton and Donohoe – who would form the nucleus of a new generation of Fine Gael politicians; along with three slightly older TDs: Simon Coveney, Brian Hayes and Denis Naughten. The latter three had all entered national politics in the mid to late 1990s, when they were also in their mid-20s.
All would rise quickly to ministerial office, with Varadkar being elected to the highest office in the land.
The former minister for housing Eoghan Murphy announced in April 2021 that he was resigning his Dáil seat at the age of 39, having been elected to the Dáil in 2011. He was previously a Dublin city councillor for Pembroke-Rathmines for two years. He later wrote a book called Running From Office.
In a 2024 interview with The Irish Times, Murphy said: “There were some big mistakes or missteps that I made early on in housing.” Speaking about the pressures of public life, he said: “One of my big failures is that I didn’t manage my personal health properly.” He added: “I was just desperate to get out of the public eye. I really did not enjoy the attention that came with that, and it had really limited my world to my workplace and my home.”
The announcement this week by Donohoe that he was resigning his seat with immediate effect to take up a leadership role at the World Bank should not have been all that surprising. For several years now, Donohoe’s name has been linked with senior positions in global financial institutions, including the International Monetary Fund.
[ Paschal Donohoe’s departure for World Bank leaves significant leadership gapOpens in new window ]
His departure reflected another joint characteristic of this group. It was this: unlike previous generations of Irish national political leaders, all seven would be gone from politics by the age of 50, or 51 in Donohoe’s case.
He told The Irish Times Inside Politics podcast that despite the pressures involved he would recommend politics as a career choice for anybody.
“If anybody came to me, young woman or man, and said, ‘I’m thinking of going into politics,’ I would encourage them to do it. I would say enter politics. I’ve now been a politician, at various levels, for 21 years.
Paschal Donohoe’s last interview
“I’ve contested a Seanad election, a council election, a byelection. And I have contested five general elections, and it is a life I’d recommend to anybody.”
However, if you look at the previous generation of politicians from the same party, the vast majority who left politics mid-career were those who lost their seats. The party’s senior ranks included career politicians Kenny, Michael Noonan, Charlie Flanagan, Michael Ring, Alan Shatter, Michael Creed, Richard Bruton and Jimmy Deenihan.
Why did so many of the next crop of senior figures bow out from politics when they were in their 40s? Was it because they were elected, and had held high office, at such young ages? Was it the increased pressures involved with politics in the 21st century, with social media, intrusion, criticism and endless scrutiny? Was it because they viewed politics differently than previous generations, more in terms of a period of life than a career that would bring them to pensionable age?
In the interview with Miriam O’Callaghan on RTÉ in 2015 in which he came out as gay, Varadkar also made another interesting point that was eclipsed by the bigger disclosure. He vowed that he would retire from politics by the age of 50. In the end, he left at an even younger age than that, stepping away from politics last year at the age of 45.
When he spoke about this issue to The Irish Times this week, Varadkar pointed to a generational shift in attitudes towards careers.
“There is a changed attitude to careers among Millenials and Gen X vs the Boomers generation,” he reflected. “This generation does not necessarily subscribe to a job or a career for life as our parents did.
“There will not be as many Micheál Martins, Willie O’Deas or Enda Kennys among these generations, if any at all. That’s not unique to politics. People like the idea of having a few careers in their working life.”
He pointed out it was not just an Irish phenomenon, saying the turnover in politics was faster now in most countries. He said of his group of leaders in the European Union when he became taoiseach in 2017, only Emmanuel Macron and Victor Orbán were still in power, just two out of the original 27.
Another factor he identified was how attritional it all could be. “The reality of being in government is that it is a very intense experience that consumes all your time, attention and energy. The spotlight is always on.
“Being in opposition is much less demanding with busy and quiet periods. Remember that Fine Gael has been in government for a long time, the longest continuous period since De Valera and Lemass led Fianna Fáil in their heyday. It’s no surprise that people might want to move on.
[ Diarmaid Ferriter: Departing Fine Gaelers leave a mixed legacyOpens in new window ]
“In addition to that, the job is generally less forgiving these days. There are no real breaks like the old days. You find yourself being always on, always contactable even when abroad, at home in bed, on holidays, subject to constant criticism and sometimes cynicism. It’s social media, regular media, stakeholders, the opposition and your own supporters. It spills over and affects family and friends.”
In some states like Sweden, politicians can take a sabbatical for a year. There is also the issue of remuneration. “This is not a popular argument to make and nobody wants to hear it. But for some politics is not as attractive in terms of pay or pension as it used to be given the other options now available. Pay was never fully restored like it was for almost all other public servants.
“Expenses were cut but not index-linked so they fall in real terms every year.
“The early pension that aligned politicians to gardaí and the Defence Forces given the precarious nature of the job is long gone,” he adds.
Notwithstanding that, Varadkar says he does not regret doing politics for a second. “It was a privilege to serve my country and community and I had the time of my life. The good things outweigh the bad things manifold and you know, it doesn’t have to be for life.”
Historian Prof Ciara Meehan of the University of Galway is the co-author with political journalist Stephen Collins of Saving the State: Fine Gael from Collins to Varadkar.
She says that just as 2004 signalled the beginning of a generational shift, a similar ‘changing of the guard’ now as happened then, and with the Just Society changes in the 1960s.
“Today’s ‘changing of the guard’ similarly creates an opportunity for Simon Harris to shape and clarify Fine Gael’s identity, particularly in light of renewed suggestions that the party is experiencing an identity crisis,” she says.
Simon Coveney was elected in 1998 in a byelection following the tragic death of his father, Hugh. He was 26. “When I was elected, I was the youngest TD in the Dáil. When Denis Naughten got elected, he was the youngest. When Brian [Hayes] got elected he was also pretty young (28). Leo and Simon Harris were the same: all people who got elected in our early to mid 20s and we were really hungry to make an impact. Most of us did.”
While Coveney’s father was a TD, he says his family had a rule not to rely on politics as a career, and to do something else. His father’s untimely death thrust him into politics first but he says that the “something else” was always present throughout his career.
“Being in politics was a massive privilege, and I loved it. I made a choice with my wife quite a few years ago that I wasn’t going to give my entire working life to politics. There were other things in life that interested me, that I wanted to pursue that I could never do as a politician.”
For Coveney, that moment came after Harris was elected as leader in 2024. He had been Tánaiste and a senior minister but he withdrew to the backbenches. It was an opportune time for him to leave.
“We would have been the generation behind the John Bruton generation in Fine Gael that was expected to take over the leadership and lead the party forward,” he reflects.
“I think we did that for a while. I think it’s a good thing that you can give politics 20 or 25 years and then go and do other things. It’s not a rejection of politics. It is just deciding that politics is hugely important in your life but not the only thing.”
Coveney did not contest the general election and now has a portfolio existence as a consultant and a board member of organisations focused on strengthening democracy.
Brian Hayes was not surprised at Donohoe’s decision to quit politics. “He has signalled for a long time, privately and publicly, that there was another career for him outside of politics,” he says.
Hayes likens Donohoe’s role in the World Bank as equal in status and profile to the late Peter Sutherland’s appointment to the World Trade Organisation. “It’s a big role and a great achievement.”
He says politics is a cyclical business. “The most important thing is to pick the moment of your departure rather than have the public pick it for you or your party pick it for you. The age of 50 for people who have been in it for 20 years is a good time to go.”
He himself left just before 50, when he was offered the role as head of the Banking Federation. Does he miss it? “Politics is quite addictive. You feel that you’re at the centre of attention, and the Dáil is the epicentre of your world. So it takes a while to move away from that, but not too long.”
The timing of Lucinda Creighton’s departure was picked by the public. After leaving Fine Gael, she did not retain her seat in 2016, when standing under the Renua banner.
“At the end of the day, nobody has a claim on a particular seat, which has been a feature of the family dynasty dynamic over the years,” she says. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s good for politicians to be kept on their toes.”
Creighton is of the view that society is harsher now and social media plays a part in that. People’s views of politics and current affairs is diminishing because digitised media consumption lends itself to becoming an echo chamber, with polarised views. It’s therefore harder to be a politician.
“I mean, I know it’s old fashioned, but the idea of having respect for the people you disagree with that’s sort of eroding, and Ireland is not immune from that.”
Generally, she says that the main factors behind a successful political career are energy, hunger and passion. “I don’t really believe that anybody can keep that up for decade upon decade.”
There’s a remarkable resonance in the account of so many of their political trajectories. “I was elected at 23,” says Denis Naughten, a former minister, who was a TD for 25 years. He resigned from Fine Gael in 2011 after losing the party whip and became an Independent before leaving politics in 2023. He rejoined the party earlier this year. “My director of elections in Roscommon was Tommy Hunt and he always said to me: ‘Look, if you can, get 20 years out of it. Get the hell out then.’ He said politics is a game for young people and don’t stay in all your life. That was always in the back of my head from day one.”
Naughten returns to his core point, and that of Varadkar’s and the rest, which is that there was a generational shift of disposition among politicians to the profession.
As an example, he says many colleagues in 2002 were appalled at Fine Gael TDs losing seats. But he says that the attitude nowadays is very different when such losses occur.
“Many TDs don’t see it as a career any more. They see themselves giving over part of their lives to public service, but then moving on elsewhere. That’s the view of our generation who rose during the Noughties.”
