IN THIS NEW year’s column, I had intended to bestow my annual array of political awards on deserving recipients on both sides of the Atlantic. There are definitely standout events, elected officials, journalists and activists, both in my native United States and ancestral, adopted Ireland, warranting recognition.
But when I reflect upon all that has transpired in and around the political sphere during the past twelve months and the current lie of the land in the two countries I love dearly, disappointment is the emotion that grips me. To be blunt, there is precious little basis for celebration or, indeed, for optimism.
In the US, once regarded by observers as the leading democracy on the planet, 2023 did not unfold in the fashion many had anticipated. My own suspicion had been that, even if he pursued the presidency again and retained a stranglehold on the affections of a substantial swathe of a new breed of Republican Party faithful, conservatives would examine the abundant, mounting legal trouble Donald Trump faces and embrace a fresh messenger. Ron DeSantis or Nikki Haley would offer a civil and palatable version of “Trumpism” – without the Trump.
Simultaneously, I believed that, either following some soul searching or difficult conversations with trusted confidants about his manifestly diminished physical and mental capacity, President Joe Biden would step aside for the next generation. As the Democrats’ saviour in 2020 and a senior statesman who, at the very least, restored some dignity to the White House, very honourable mention in the annals of history would have been secure.
Instead, America is staring down the barrel of a rematch between two ageing men that the clear majority of the electorate does not want. An Associated Press poll reveals that two of the most common words used to describe Biden are “old” and “confused”; among the top labels for Trump are “corrupt” and “dishonest.”
Of course, the November general election is a distance off and there are myriad reasons why Biden-Trump II might not come to pass. It is a relatively safe bet, however.
With this as the political backdrop, domestic crises fester. The cost of living is rising inexorably and effectively crippling all except the wealthy. How to deal humanely, yet sensibly, with the relentless flow of migrants over the southern border remains an equally impossible and thankless task.
It is, in part, the gravity of these problems that has led a significant segment of the citizenry to oppose more aid to a besieged Ukraine, a development that has emboldened the increasingly powerful isolationist wing of the GOP to demand a halt to the funding. In fairness, the latter grouping and their sympathisers are not totally wide of the mark when they ask what the ultimate resolution to the Russian incursion will be? Will spending countless additional billions only guarantee a perpetual stalemate with further fatalities on a mass scale?
And the US has disgraced itself in its refusal to call unambiguously for a ceasefire in Gaza. It is a fact that the America Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC) wields grossly disproportionate influence. President Biden’s advisers are appropriately wary of the civil war within the Democratic Party that AIPAC could engender by dedicating in excess of $100 million to the defeat of those they deem “Israel’s detractors” in congressional primaries. This is their stated intent.
Rumours also have it that some foundations and rich donors now plan to funnel money, which had been pledged to prestigious universities whose response to the conflict they deem insufficiently pro-Israel, to AIPAC. There will be plenty of cash to distribute.
That said, enough is enough. The images of thousands of dead and suffering Palestinian children are especially horrifying and wholly beyond justification, even in the wake of Hamas’s sick barbarity on 7 October. The Biden administration must stand for humanity at this stage, and recent surveys suggest a slow, unmistakable shift against Israel in the popular mood in the US. The political price for doing what is right may not be as high as the strategists fear.
While in my new home, a dreadful housing emergency – not too strong a characterisation at this juncture – persists, causing a large cadre of highly educated young women and men with good jobs to emigrate. The arrival of Ukrainians and international protection seekers yearning for peace and opportunity has understandably added pressure to a pre-existing shortage of supply.
It is entirely legitimate, in my estimation, for individuals to question if we need to consider applying the brakes when they hear reports that their government cannot offer decent places to stay to those who are fleeing unenviable circumstances as they themselves once did. Many are thinking of their children and grandchildren, who have no chance of getting on the property ladder. But as well as this widespread feeling, there has been something sinister and malevolent boiling beneath.
Whether it is all down to the oft-mentioned “far right” – a label I think is tossed around so frequently that it has lost much of its meaning – or not, ugly sentiments manifested themselves in the rioting and mayhem that broke loose in Dublin on 23 November. It was a terrible day in the city’s history.
And in December, the prospect of a vacant hotel in Rosscahill, Co Galway being used to provide shelter to 70 international protection seekers resulted in the assembly of a blockade and, subsequently, the burning to the ground of an edifice that was revered locally. The efforts of some, explicitly or implicitly, to condone or contextualise a criminal act were revolting.
In one of our final conversations, an uncle of mine, former Congressman Brian Donnelly, who died in February of last year and who worked indefatigably on Capitol Hill to ease the path for Irish immigrants to the US, opined that “the movement of people from the global south and other troubled spots to North America and Western Europe is not going to stop. How it is managed generously but realistically is the biggest challenge facing politics in the decades ahead. There is no straightforward solution.”
Immigration has joined the traditional staples of housing, health, finances, education et al as a key issue that will feature in the two or three elections to be held here in 2024. In this vein, post the deliberate destruction of Ross Lake House in Connemara, Fianna Fáil Councillor Noel Thomas condemned what happened, yet harshly criticised the government’s policy on this front. He asserted that “the inn is full.”
Rebuking him, his party colleague, Éamon Ó Cuív TD, noted that “the inn wasn’t full, it was empty.” There are votes to be found in both stances. But I expect this year to see lots of office holders and aspirants pivot openly toward Thomas’s position, rightly or wrongly, and more still to nod subtly in that direction.
In contrast to neighbours and allies, Ireland has to date avoided the vexed politics of immigration and what emerges therefrom. No longer. A full airing of the topic is overdue and inescapable. It won’t always be edifying or good-spirited, though. Accordingly, I await forthcoming campaigns with trepidation.
I get, in advance, complaints that this is not the time for such a depressing read. It is important to remember that hope springs eternal amidst the doom and gloom. I wish you and yours a wonderful 2024.
Larry Donnelly is a Boston lawyer, a Law Lecturer at the University of Galway and a political columnist with TheJournal.ie.
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