“Do you know who I feel sorry for? Micheál Martin.”
Even Fine Gaelers, privately critical of Fianna Fáil Ministers, wondering if they made the right decision in entering Government and half-wondering if they can get out of it, have sympathy for the Fianna Fáil leader whose first eight weeks in the job have surely been the most torrid of any taoiseach. Of course, they say that it’s when people start feeling sorry for you in politics that the end is near.
Wearily accustomed to dealing with calamities of all sizes, the Taoiseach’s aides knew immediately when news of the Oireachtas golf dinner reached them on Thursday that the scandal would convulse the Government. There was a glum foreboding as the names of the golfers and diners trickled out. Then the name of Dara Calleary, Minister for Agriculture, emerged. Of course, thought one senior official. Of course.
Calleary tried the immediate and abject apology, calling a furious Martin on Thursday evening, as well as contacting the Green Party, Fine Gael and the acting chief medical officer. By Friday morning it was clear contrition would not be sufficient. People at all levels of Government were hopping mad, shouting and texting expletive-ridden condemnations to one another. “I can’t f**king believe it! No! I can! I f**king can!” raged one. More seriously, outside the bubble of Government, a mighty wave of public outrage was building. Calleary was smart enough to read the situation, and resigned rather than face the alternative.
Jerry Buttimer, leas cathaoirleach of the Seanad followed, and the Senators of each party had the whip withdrawn. Small fry, though. European Commissioner Phil Hogan, Big Phil, Cute Aul’ Phil – not that cute, it transpires – toughed it out. So did newly-appointed Supreme Court judge, the former Fine Gael attorney general Séamus Woulfe. Much harder take out a judge or a European Commissioner than a Minister. Not impossible, though.
We may lack quantitative measurements of these things, but it would be very unwise to underestimate the level of public anger about the revelations. Government politicians listened to Liveline on RTÉ radio in fear and anger. “I have never seen anything cut through like this,” said one worried TD on Friday afternoon.
Senior figures in both Fine Gael and Fianna Fáil knew immediately that the episode was desperately damaging to the Government – even if the repudiation of the offender, Calleary, was brutal and swift. They understood it dealt a potentially fatal blow to public trust in the Government – the vital ingredient in combating the spread of coronavirus, now resurgent, in the week before the administration takes on its make-or-break task of reopening the schools. That task has now become a lot more difficult.
The controversy over Wednesday’s golf dinner in Galway was only the second major political controversy of the week. Though it was forgotten on Friday amid the outrage about the golf dinner, there was a significant and highly revealing row between the Taoiseach and Tánaiste at the Cabinet meeting on Tuesday that included a pointed warning from Leo Varadkar that the future of the Government is in jeopardy.
It was only 10 minutes before the Cabinet meeting was due to start when it became apparent to his colleagues that Varadkar was not happy. Word buzzed around Fine Gael Ministers that there was a problem; texts and Whatsapp messages flew. Some weren’t sure that the Cabinet meeting would go ahead at all. The problem-solvers – Fine Gael’s Simon Coveney and Paschal Donohoe – attempted emergency outreach to their Fianna Fail colleagues. What was the problem? But the Fianna Fáilers didn’t know either. The Cabinet meeting, with some members in attendance in Government Buildings and others (including Varadkar) joining remotely, began soon after 1pm.
On the agenda were the latest recommendations from the National Public Health Emergency Team (Nphet), advising the tightening of restrictions in response to the resurgence of the virus in recent days. In truth, the public health experts were extremely alarmed, and had mooted a return to a total lockdown if the trend in infections continued. But the politicians were united that this was impossible, for social and economic reasons.
Varadkar wanted this thrashed out at a Cabinet subcommittee rather than – as some Fine Gaelers saw it – being bounced into hasty decisions at the full Cabinet. He soon made his displeasure clear. “If we keep doing business like this,” he said, “we won’t be doing business for long.”
At first, some of the people around the table or tuning in weren’t sure they had heard right. Was the Tánaiste really talking about the potential end of the coalition Government – after seven weeks? It was perhaps the most shocking moment of the coalition’s life so far.
“Jeez that was rocky,” was one Minister’s assessment afterwards. Others were more direct. The word used by five different people, either present or briefed afterwards, was “shitshow”.
“Actually, it was worse than was reported,” said another senior figure a few days afterwards.
According to Fianna Fáil and some senior officials, Varadkar was being petulant and unreasonable, making his dramatic intervention in a way that he knew would soon become public knowledge. All the more so because it was – several senior sources have confirmed – his chief of staff, Brian Murphy, who suggested the Cabinet meeting in place of the subcommittee meeting. The criticism of Varadkar was loud and sharp and not confined to Fianna Fáil; Fine Gael Ministers and senior officials were also privately critical. “Industrial scale petulance”, was the acerbic comment of one official.
Others wondered if this was personality or political strategy. Varadkar rarely makes interventions without thinking them through. He would certainly have been aware this would be leaked. Politics is a mixture of public drama and private dealing, and nobody is a more careful student of the interplay between the two than Varadkar.
Their conclusion: Varadkar was sending a very serious message conveying his unhappiness with the way Government is being run. He has in recent weeks made similar complaints to Fine Gael colleagues. He is “fundamentally unhappy with the way things are being done,” says a person who works closely with him. “This has been coming for a while.”
For all the internal criticism of Varadkar, he can reasonably claim to have been proven correct by subsequent events. Even Ministers who were critical of the Tánaiste acknowledged he might have been right on the substance of his complaint. “Leo was right. We could have done with another day,” says one.
The communication of the new Covid-19 restrictions was a mess. The Government looked less sure-footed by the hour. “We didn’t get the messaging right,” says one senior figure. “We didn’t explain that there would be contradictions, but the reason for those contradictions was that we were determined to get the schools open. School is essential. House parties are not.”
Even before the golf dinner controversy – which is not, the former Minister for Agriculture aside, a failing of the Government, in fairness – deep structural, personal and political problems have been been growing in the coalition. They came to the fore this week. Senior people are well aware of them. They are just not sure what to do about them.
