Implacable and stubborn, ruthlessly pragmatic, Sinn Féin leader Mary Lou McDonald, who is now five years in the party’s top post, is also described by those who know her as possessing extraordinary stamina and self-belief.
Those who look at her with a more critical eye, however, judge her to be a wily opportunist desperate not to fall foul of the public, someone who talks a big game about change but has yet to prove she can bring it about.
Depending on who you ask, she was either plucked from obscurity and primed for leadership over 20 years, or a canny grafter who has made countless personal sacrifices to stamp her way to the top of the traditionally male-dominated arena of Irish politics.
One person who has watched her at close quarters says she rules Sinn Féin with as much iron discipline as Gerry Adams did before her, always keen to emphasise to anyone who needs reminding, North or South, that she is the boss.
The bigger fear, however, seems to be that the next general election is Sinn Féin’s to lose, one heightened by one or two wobbles in recent polls
Yet questions still dog the party about who really pulls the strings – questions which McDonald frequently dismisses as being sexist. The story of her first five years at the helm is one of both disaster and thundering success, both electoral wipeout and triumph at the ballot box.
Looking ahead, there is a measure of anxiety within Sinn Féin about coming months. The party is faltering in its search for new candidates for next year’s local elections, though this is a problem affecting other parties, too.
It also faces pressure from a significant portion of its base about the continuing influx of refugees. Allegations of blatant populism, meanwhile, are starting to stick. Some worry that the party is diluting its republicanism.
The bigger fear, however, seems to be that the next general election is Sinn Féin’s to lose, one heightened by one or two wobbles in recent polls. With expectations so high, and with so many promises made, McDonald is facing her 20 most important months.
The great majority in Sinn Féin, both North and South, genuinely like McDonald and are happy with her leadership, including TDs and councillors, even those with a background in militant republicanism. One person who left the party in high acrimony still privately describes her as “great craic”.
Like any political leader, however, such support is not universal, not that that is particularly shocking. What does make Sinn Féin unusual is that their politicians appear completely unable to offer any criticisms of the leadership, even off the record.
One member recently voiced concerns to this writer about the party’s historical treatment of women who come forward with complaints of abuse or bullying and appeared to immediately regret having spoken out of turn.
Another TD, when asked what McDonald could improve on, said: “What could any of us improve on? We are all human beings.” Some of it can be explained by a distrust in the media, but a lot of it is down to the simple fact that outright dissent is not tolerated in Sinn Féin.
A more scathing assessment of her leadership, however, comes from an individual who left the party in difficult circumstances, though that individual says that they have no wish to rake over the coals publicly again.
“She is the same sort of wily, opportunistic politician she has always been, but she has become more polished with the media. There have been people who would have considered themselves friends of Mary Lou who left the party and she didn’t blink an eye.”
Generally speaking, if a Sinn Féin TD wants to get something off their chest they are encouraged to do so in the weekly parliamentary party meeting, usually held on Wednesdays. Not a scrap of information leaks, unlike nearly every other party.
“Mary Lou would demand it is a safe place for discussion, as Gerry did before her. There would be very low tolerance of someone making it unsafe for someone to express an opinion,” one TD says. Another TD insists that grievances are aired and a consensus reached.
Not so, says another, who says that McDonald and powerful but unelected party officials listen carefully, take soundings, and then go off and decide what to do about a given problem away from the members of the parliamentary party.
This group of unelected officials, known as the “kitchen cabinet”, includes general secretary Ken O’Connell and key strategist Dawn Doyle: “Nothing is really crystallised in the meeting,” says the source, painting the parliamentary party as little more than a sounding board, rather than the centre of power.
Getting to the bottom of whether Mary Lou McDonald has shifted the balance of power from North to South in her time as leader is a tricky one
Given all of that, little has changed in the way Sinn Féin is run under McDonald than in days of Adams and Martin McGuinness, with critics painting a picture of opaque decision-making, that is at worst fundamentally disempowering to its TDs.
Speaking in 2021, McDonald said assertions that shadowy figures are pulling the strings were “profoundly sexist” in that they implied “that this woman couldn’t possibly be really the leader of Sinn Féin. Well guess what? I really am, boys.”
The key nexus lies with the national officer board elected at the ardfheis, which includes McDonald, Vice President Michelle O’Neill, general secretary Ken O’Connell, chairperson Declan Kearney, treasurer Pearse Doherty TD, and treasurer Conor Murphy. This is separate from the Ard Comhairle.
That is, there are three Stormont MLAs to two TDs. “They make all the decisions, and everyone that goes in there must come out of those meetings at one. Then they go into the Ard Chomhairle. Everyone will then, in turn, come out of the Ard Chomhairle with a unanimous view,” one source said.
Another source, asked what entity in the party is the most powerful – the officer board, or the better-known Ard Chomhairle, – says without hesitation: “the national officer board. Everything is decided before the Ard Chomhairle, in reality.”
Some past Ard Chomhairle members said they felt there was a “fear factor” in speaking out against the prevailing view. “They are hours of my life that I will never get back. It was a waste of time,” said yet another source.
Getting to the bottom of whether McDonald has shifted the balance of power from North to South in her time as leader is a tricky one. The known levers of power within Sinn Féin are as follows. An eight-member committee called the Coiste Seasta meets every two weeks.
It has the power of the Ard Chomhairle when the latter is not sitting, and it runs the party on a day-to-day basis. It does not have a policy role. Instead, it deals with upcoming events, membership, training and finances.
Separate to this is the aforementioned national officer board which meets monthly. There, the big and sensitive topics are thrashed out. The party’s ruling body – the Ard Chomhairle – meets every four to six weeks and has 55 members.
Party documents say “the supreme direction and Government of the organisation” resides here. There are nine MLAs and two MPs to six Oireachtas TDs and one Senator. At least five members of the Ard Chomhairle are former IRA veterans, or had links to the IRA.
[ Inside Sinn Féin – where power lies and how decisions are madeOpens in new window ]
McDonald and all other candidates pledge “in all matters pertaining to the duties and functions of an elected representative, I will be guided by and hold myself amenable to all directions and instructions issued to me by An Ard Chomhairle of Sinn Féin”.
There are more elected representatives from north of the Border on the national officer board and Ard Chomairle than south of the Border. While this is likely due to Sinn Féin’s constitution in terms of membership, it is interesting, nonetheless.
Observers in Northern Ireland say that McDonald, on her arrival to key talks, always makes it very clear that she is the top of the pecking order and portrays an image of the heart of Sinn Féin power lying south of the Border.
It is she – and not Michelle O’Neill – who must be deferred to, observers say, although another points out that O’Neill has delivered as Northern Ireland’s first nationalist First Minister and holds significant heft of her own.
The reasons councillors have given for resigning since 2018 show a disturbing pattern, including verbal abuse, smear campaigns, feeling disconnected, disillusioned, ostracised
Last month, Sinn Féin refused to attend a meeting between Northern Ireland’s political parties and British foreign secretary James Cleverley after McDonald was told she could not attend as she is elected in another jurisdiction. Whether this was as much a message to her own colleagues as to the British is an interesting question.
The other feature of Sinn Féin’s myriad structures is the inclusion of a huge number of party activists and unelected officers. The simple truth is that the party is not fully controlled by politicians. The party TDs are tasked with abiding all instructions from on high.
When it comes to the most important question – is McDonald fully in control – it is clear that she has been at its heart for more than two decades. She was made member of the Ard Chomhairle in 2001, a mere two years after she joined the party – and a decade before she was elected to the Dáil.
In 2005, she became party chair. Since the very beginning when she defected from Fianna Fáil to Sinn Féin – seemingly because the former was not republican enough – Gerry Adams saw within her exceptional leadership potential.
Here was an avowedly republican middle-class Dublin woman with no personal links to the Provisional IRA, no atrocities in her past to answer for. She bypassed the usual gruntwork of the councillor circuit, primed for stardom.
Despite two failed Dáil attempts in 2002 and 2007, but one successful stint in the 2004 European elections, Adams never wavered in his support. In turn, McDonald proved her republican credentials time and again, popping up at commemorations everywhere. “She never flinched in her assignments,” the source said.
So, how would these structures work with Sinn Féin in Government? How much power would a Sinn Féin minister actually have? If Sinn Féin’s strength is the existence of an iron discipline that brooks no dissent, it is also one of their biggest weaknesses.
Since she became party president, three TDs have quit and at least a dozen councillors have stepped down according to a fresh tally carried out by The Irish Times, though bullying accusations were rife long before she took over.
However, the reasons councillors have given for resigning since 2018 show a disturbing pattern, including verbal abuse, smear campaigns, feeling disconnected, disillusioned, ostracised, being told what to say or how to vote on the council, or undemocratic selection processes.
Polling success is only one part of the picture. Forming a Government will take another kind of political nous
In addition, those who have left complain that there has been a failure to act on bullying allegations promptly, a diluting of republican values, and they point to the disapproval that exists when anyone speaks out.
After she became leader, McDonald ordered a report on councillors’ experiences. Circulated in mid-2019, and seen by The Irish Times, it is illuminating in that it shows councillors privately raising issues of conflict, but it also shows the party acknowledging that existing structures did not always support them.
Forty consultations took place, where “a handful” of councillors raised issues about local interpersonal conflicts. Training was recommended on party structures “including our charter of ethics, how the party’s complaint process works and how to engage with it.”
[ A republican riddle: Mary Lou McDonald, the woman who would be taoiseachOpens in new window ]
It also found that the vast majority of councillors who took part did not feel they were properly informed of what their role would be before they were elected. “Similarly they did not feel they were adequately informed of their role and responsibility to the party once elected.”
In some cases, problems were explained by a councillor’s inexperience and the challenges of balancing a secondary employment, family and the various demands of council work. In others, councillors had not adequately drawn on existing supports, or those structures had not adequately supported them.
The percentage of affected councillors referred to amounted to less than 4 per cent of the overall team, the report said, but it accepted that “there are important organisational lessons to be learned.”
The Irish Times spoke to four former members who quit about their experiences. Two said they tried to bring their cases to the attention of McDonald, but never heard back. Only recently, one of McDonald’s close allies vowed to quit before pulling back.
Then, Janice Boylan, a councillor in McDonald’s constituency, posted cryptically about people pulling up the ladder behind them when they succeed. Simmering tensions were nipped in the bud during a pre-Christmas coastal walk pointedly signposted by McDonald on her Twitter page.
Some questioned McDonald’s feminist credentials. In January 2020, she told a conference to rapturous applause, that “Sinn Féin is probably the most exemplary party when it comes to girl power at this stage in Irish politics.”
Yet nothing has called into question her judgment more than her treatment of Mairia Cahill, who was raped as a teenager by a senior IRA member. Then, McDonald was lambasting the Catholic Church for its handling of sexual abuse allegations.
Yet, McDonald defended her party and Gerry Adams and denied allegations of a cover-up of Cahill’s abuse, despite the evidence to the contrary. She was also forced to deny that she smirked at Cahill when the two met in the Dáil.
Three TDs – Peadar Tóibín, Carol Nolan, and Violet Anne Wynne – have quit: Tóibín and Nolan over Sinn Féin’s stance on abortion. Wynne’s resignation last year caused shock waves as she claimed she was subjected to “psychological warfare”.
Sinn Féin, she said, “do not take kindly to autonomy and those who do not follow their plans”. The episode cast a poor light on McDonald, as Wynne resigned on maternity leave and said her pregnancy was “used a stick to beat me with.”
One former party member said Sinn Féin’s polices for dealing with complaints still needs work. “They have the policy on paper (for handling complaints) but the practice is different. This is their Achilles heel and I think it might hold them back in the long run.”
Six former Sinn Féin councillors who had disputes with the party were re-elected as Independents in the 2019 local and European elections. The allegations of bullying did nothing to help the party in the lead-up to that polling day in 2019.
If McDonald’s leadership was ever going to be questioned, it would have been then. It was a disastrous day out that no one saw coming, with two of their three outgoing MEPs defeated, along with 78 of its 159 councillors.
Sinn Féin was viewed by the public as being too negative in its messaging, too aggressive on the airwaves, with a small number of over-exposed TDs who could dish out criticism without offering solutions. A front bench reshuffle ensued.
The party is unusually forthcoming about the difficulties: “She had a tough first year,” said the party’s housing spokesperson, Eoin Ó Broin this week. “Very shortly afterwards we had a presidential election where we did poorly, and that in 2019 we had the locals and Europeans where we did exceptionally poorly.”
“But what she has demonstrated very clearly is notwithstanding that rocky start, a lot of which wasn’t in any way her fault at all, she has managed to refocus and lead both a stronger Oireachtas team and party organisation on the ground.”
With a move away from the politics of constant protest, the electorate rewarded Sinn Féin with its stunning 2020 general election result. It was a reckoning for Irish politics, shattering the duopoly of the two Civil War parties. It received the most first-preference votes, and won 37 seats.
Her position was cemented that day, with any internal naysayers silenced.
As leader of the Opposition since 2020, McDonald has become more wary of the media and more selective about where she appears. It is clearly a strategy. She has not appeared on the Leinster House plinth in months.
One TD says her door is always open to them. She, however, constantly and repeatedly presses her front bench to “do better”. In the Dáil, Sinn Féin sticks to the bread-and-butter issues that matter: housing, health, childcare, the cost of living.
The next big test will be the “enormously important” local and EU elections in May or June 2024. In Kerry, Sinn Féin wants one councillor in every municipal district. And it wants to reverse the losses of 2019. Finding candidates is proving difficult: “We are still looking for good candidates. We are very open to candidates who share our values and who will work hard,” says one strategist.
O’Broin says that some candidates may be reticent to run because of the low salary associated with the job at a time when inflation and bills are sky-high, although he contends the struggle to find people is no more pronounced this time than in previous years.
Her ultimate test, however, will be the next Dáil election in late 2024 or early 2025. She faces big calls about electoral strategy. Currently, Sinn Féin intends to run at least two candidates in every constituency, and three in some. Such a, gambit offers rewards, but carries risks.
But polling success is only one part of the picture. Forming a Government will take another kind of political nous. Some in Sinn Féin bridle at the idea of a Coalition with Fianna Fáil, believing they would be labelled as just another party willing to climb the greasy pole for power. But everything will be about numbers.
If she can overcome the challenges – and it is by no means a guarantee – McDonald will not only have answered questions about her leadership, but she will have won the ultimate long game: turning Sinn Féin from one-time political pariahs into a legitimate party of government.
