There is a tragic dialogue playing out on the world stage every other day. Between an austere, cerebral Norwegian and a passionate, visceral Ukrainian: Jens Stoltenberg and Volodymyr Zelenskiy. Every other day Ukrainian president Zelenskiy pleads for the no-fly zone he believes will save his people, Every other day, Stoltenberg, secretary general of Nato, refuses. Though it makes him a deeply unsympathetic character, he is certain such action would cause greater loss.
Stoltenberg holds firmly to the principle that actions have consequences – unintended, unforeseen and tragic.
Consequence was clearly something the Irish Government did not consider when it decided to honour the frontline workers for their dedication during the pandemic, by granting an extra bank holiday. The ensuing four day weekend, according to Dr Fergal Hickey, president of the Irish Association of Emergency Departments, added greatly to the work of “the grossly overburdened emergency departments”. Many, he said, were “horrified” at the prospect.
Yesterday the numbers attending emergency departments were up there with the worst days of the pandemic. In short, the frontline workers we were honouring were run off their feet for four days.
It all goes to prove that good intentions are not enough, and politicians have to think far beyond them. Nowhere was this clearer than in Labour leader-in-waiting Ivana Bacik’s decision to speak at the National Women’s Council of Ireland “protest” rally.
The Labour Party may be an Opposition party, but it is not a “protest” party, which is generally understood to be a loud minority of especially motivated activists who are not representative of the general public.
It's fair to say a huge chunk of the Irish body politic were thrilled when it became apparent Bacik would succeed Alan Kelly
The Labour Party is a centre-left mainstream party that pivots on workers’ rights and civil rights. Under its auspices Bacik has earned a formidable reputation. She has an impeccable record. Never afraid of hard work, committed to good causes, she is adored by those communities she championed.
She successfully campaigned to Repeal the Eighth; was central to the anti-Judicial Appointments Bill group in the Seanad; and stood by those hard-done-by Trinity students fighting exorbitant fees for repeat exams. For those students, unlikely ragged-trousered philanthropists, she was often the only politician to provide a campus alternative to Sinn Féin activists.
Careless perception
It’s fair to say, a huge chunk of the Irish body politic, men as well as women, were thrilled when it became apparent she would succeed Alan Kelly.
And then she took to that platform, where the National Women’s Council obviated its pluralist past, denied a whole cohort of female elected representatives a voice and carelessly allowed a perception of alignment with Sinn Féin.
Did it never occur to Bacik that, had this hare-brained scheme starring Mary Lou MacDonald been dreamt up a mere six years earlier, she herself would have been marginalised? Did she not wonder, as she shared the platform with the Sinn Féin leader, how it would transmit countrywide to Labour voters?
Dáil Éireann is a colder house. Its factions and its fights yield fewer friendships, and media scrutiny is far more intense
Above all, did she never reflect on the fact that other Labour women might perceive it as a betrayal. It’s only a few years since Joan Burton, on whose shoulders she stands, excoriated Sinn Féin for its refusal to address IRA murders such as that of Jean McConville and questioned its commitment to “true democracy”. Burton had no ambivalence about Sinn Féin, never fell for the false promise of populism and always ruled out coalition with them.
I’m guessing Bacik didn’t think any of these things. It must have seemed like a good thing to do: a clarion call of “contemporary” sisterhood.
Up until now, Bacik was a hero to all those she championed. With campaigns came camaraderie, the warmth of shared missions.
But Dáil Éireann is a colder house. Its factions and its fights yield fewer friendships, and media scrutiny is far more intense. The first test of her mettle as a TD came less than a fortnight after victory in the Dublin Bay South by-election when she attended Katharine Zappone’s party at the Merrion Hotel.
Constant contrition
Since the Clifden judgment relegated Golfgate to a media perpetuated non-story, Merriongate certainly classifies as over-reaction. But Bacik, over the following months, found herself repeatedly apologising for “dropping in” on the Zappone tea party. As late as September, Labour’s opportunistic support for Sinn Féin’s vote of no confidence in Simon Coveney over the Zappone affair meant Bacik was still apologising for an error of judgment that wasn’t.
Constant contrition is not the best look for a new TD.
And now, a mere eight months into the new job, she is interviewing for the top job. But how prepared is she for leadership, the loneliest place in the political spectrum? Is she prepared to make decisions that will make her unpopular? Misunderstood? Feared even?
Will she resist the prospect of history in the making: a female taoiseach and a female tánaiste?
And above all, is she prepared to be confronted, within the next three years, with the most difficult decision of her career? Because that is when Mary Lou McDonald may come calling with a Faustian pact: government formation.
If – as many think – the National Women’s Council rally was an intimation of things to come, then the answer is worrying for those who value pluralism.
The temptation will be huge. Will she resist the prospect of history in the making: a female taoiseach and a female tánaiste? Or will she do the hardest thing of all by standing up to her own tribe?
Female leaders are not great simply by virtue of being women. Like all leaders, they are great when they measure consequences against actions and are not afraid to appear unsympathetic.