There’s Jim and there’s James. They’re both barristers. And they’re both involved in the current by-election in Dublin Bay South. They are minor figures on the political landscape, no better or worse than dozens of their like. Currently, they’re being crudely packaged and sold to us as major players, with crucial roles to play in political life.
he campaigns hoping to boost these two unremarkable men suggest the current state of Irish politics lies somewhere between the shallow and the ridiculous.
One is supposedly a politician of such stature that he’s a step away from becoming leader of Fianna Fáil, and Taoiseach.
The other is allegedly such a dynamic figure that he’s the voice of his generation on the most controversial social issue in Ireland today.
Stirring times? Let’s first look at the older of these two gents.
Jim O’Callaghan TD is 53; he wants to be Taoiseach.
By all accounts, he’s an able barrister, a citizen of impeccable character.
Mr O’Callaghan makes the traditional comments — variations on “there’s no current vacancy but I wouldn’t turn it down if you want to make me leader”. Simultaneously, he lets us know he’s accepting invitations to speak to Fianna Fáil branches around the country.
Fianna Fáil’s anti-Micheál Martin faction seems thrilled.
This activity has generated media interest — and here’s a quote from a Fianna Fáil source who spoke to Daniel McConnell of the Irish Examiner: “There is something deliciously attractive to the Jim O’Callaghan narrative.”
Embarrassing? Yeah, but FF groupies are mostly harmless. Wear a mask, maintain social distancing and — above all — wash your hands after the slightest contact with them.
Mr O’Callaghan was a Dublin city councillor before he became a TD. He served FF in a legal capacity and was spokesperson on justice.
He has never held an executive political office. He has no experience of running a party or a government department.
Last year, when Fianna Fáil, Fine Gael and the Greens were sharing out the spoils of office, Mr O’Callaghan was asked to serve as a junior minister in the Department of Justice. It was, one might think, an ideal match if you were easing a political novice on to the first rung of executive responsibility.
But, Mr O’Callaghan refused to serve. He let it be known that he’d accept any senior cabinet post, but not a junior minister position.
He explained: “Had I accepted that position, I’d be sitting in an office in St Stephen’s Green, working on government business but being a fairly junior figure in the Government. Whereas, at present, I’m a senior backbench TD in Fianna Fáil.”
Mr O’Callaghan suggested that rejecting a junior position would — somehow — allow him to “protect the Fianna Fáil identity”.
You might be able to make sense of this, but it involves a higher form of logic than I can cope with.
Just one point, though.
As seen in the quote above, Jim has taken to referring to himself as a “senior backbench TD”. He’s not.
There’s no such thing as a “senior TD”. You’re either a TD or you’re not. There are no grades within the position. The term “senior TD” is sometimes colloquially applied to a long-serving TD, or one who has previously held a cabinet position. It indicates a body of practical experience beyond that of the average TD.
For example, Richard Bruton. First elected in 1982, served as minister in several departments, and today chairs the FG parliamentary party. Mr Bruton would be regarded by most as a senior TD.
Jim O’Callaghan was first elected TD in 2016 and rejected the only governmental position he was offered.
Despite this, some media have taken to casually referring to Mr O’Callaghan as a “senior TD”, as though he has somehow been promoted.
On the issues of the day, Mr O’Callaghan hasn’t been bursting with fresh ideas. Example: in April, when buses were being burned in the North, he tweeted “Dialogue is the only way forward” — as though announcing a freshly minted truth.
Last autumn, Nphet needed political support in holding the line against the roaring clowns demanding the Government “save Christmas”.
The Coalition failed to back Nphet’s caution, and that political failure cost many lives.
Mr O’Callaghan was not one of the roaring clowns — but he thought coming down to Level 3 wasn’t enough, he was a Level 2 man. “The number of cases are going to go up no matter what we do, Level 2 or Level 3.”
No, I don’t follow that either...
His paper on reunification capably puts the respectful, tolerant nationalist position.
We’re looking here — in Mr O’Callaghan’s responses to urgent issues of the day — for some indication of fresh thinking, of vision, of energy, of courage. Anything that might make him stand out as a potential leader.
It’s not Mr O’Callaghan’s fault that he has no experience running a party, much less a department. It suggests a strange view of politics, though, to reject practical service while waiting for the call to leadership.
Mr O’Callaghan is a political giant in comparison to our second Jim — James Geoghegan, the Fine Gael candidate in Dublin Bay South (where Mr O’Callaghan is Fianna Fáil director of elections for the impending by-election).
Dublin Bay South has been dubbed the heartland of Fine Gael, but that’s not true. It’s the heartland of a certain kind of Dublin Fine Gaeler — the socially liberal, economically conservative (or downright reactionary) type.
The obvious candidate was a non-runner, due to internal party feuds (and no one nurses a grudge more lovingly than a Dublin Fine Gaeler).
Mr Geoghegan came through the Young Fine Gael crowd that produced Leo Varadkar. He’s currently an unremarkable councillor.
He’s slightly too young to play the ‘man of substance’ role that Mr O’Callaghan has adopted, so someone decided that Mr Geoghegan should play the role of ‘dynamic go-getter’.
Most likely the decision was made by one of those highly paid ‘advisers’ who these days are all over the Government parties, like dandruff.
Since the weather’s on the mend, Mr Geoghegan comes dressed in shirt sleeves, a big smile, and that bristling sense of let-me-tell-you-all-about-me confidence that immediately causes people the world over to begin grinding their teeth.
Unfortunately for Mr Geoghegan, the marketing people had just two slogans left — one being the absurd claim that he’s the “voice of a generation”, the one “locked out of the housing market”.
A bit presumptuous, no? I mean, there are people who have an actual record on fighting the good housing fight.
And it kind of backfired when independent.ie had a story about how James “locked out of the market” Geoghegan is living in a €730,000 house.
And it’s not in the constituency — which shouldn’t matter, except that he’d given the impression he lives in the constituency. He responded that he’d never actually said he lived in Ranelagh… oh, stop digging, James.
James’s other slogan was about a “15-minute city”, but then people started sniggering about the 15-minute candidate...
Only within the politico/media bubble would any of this be mistaken for anything more than it is — processed politics, pre-digested for the voter in a hurry.
A middle-aged man who’s made a good living from a profession, and who’d now like to take a position appropriate to his status — and, sure, why not take a crack at becoming Taoiseach?
A somewhat younger middle-aged man, with an adjustable image that the marketing people have not yet got right.
Let’s try that bouncy smile again, James, the one where… yes, that’s it, just tilt your head slightly to the left... no, try slightly to the right... we’re nearly there now. Give me a bit of sparkle... Yeah, that’s it. We’re killing them, James, we’re killing them...
