The Irish Right has, in recent years, developed a curious habit. It has begun writing manifestos for a movement that does not yet exist.
Policy papers are drafted. Platforms are proposed. Solutions are offered – often thoughtful, often detailed, sometimes even persuasive. But they are addressed to a coalition that has not yet been formed, and to an audience that has not yet been assembled. The result is predictable. Nothing moves.
And yet, the instinct persists.
It is in that context that Cormac Lucey, writing recently in Gript, responded to my previous article in The Burkean – offering precisely that: a set of serious, considered policy directions for a Right that has yet to agree on what it is.
On the central point, there is no real disagreement between Cormac and myself. The various factions on the Irish Right – social conservatives, libertarian economists, rural independents, populist activists, media personalities – will achieve nothing of consequence unless they find a way to work together.
Because the raw material is already there. Discontent is visible – in protests, in local campaigns, in the steady emergence of candidates outside the traditional parties, and most starkly in the volume of spoiled ballots at the presidential election. There is a constituency. There is energy.
But it is not organised. And disorganised energy does not translate into power.
Where Cormac and I diverge is not on that diagnosis, but on what follows from it.
Cormac’s instinct is to move toward policy – and to move there quickly. His view is that after the next general election those with the strongest ideas and messaging will emerge, having proved themselves in electoral battle, and the Right should be ready with developed platforms for that moment.
To that end, he sets out a series of questions which, in reality, amount to a draft programme: reducing dependence on multinationals while building indigenous industry; preparing for AI and its implications for education and work; reconsidering the default path of long university degrees; outlining a credible route to Irish reunification; designing a restrictive immigration regime; strengthening law and order, potentially through measures like electronic tagging; confronting cultural radicalism; and even addressing gaps in public health policy such as preventative vaccination.
All of these are valid areas of concern. Many are strong ideas. But they share a common flaw.
They are answers in search of a coalition.
Because the problem on the Irish Right is not the absence of policy. It is the presence of unresolved disagreement.
On immigration – not just how much, but how it is talked about and the moral question.
On religion and pro-life – not just beliefs, but how explicitly they should shape political language.
On economics – how far to trust markets, and where the state must step in; low tax versus a generous welfare and benefits system..
On political method – whether to confront or accommodate.
On reputation – who is acceptable, who is toxic, and what is acceptable and what is toxic – and who decides.
These fundamental disagreements – because there is so much at stake both internally, in terms of where they take the movement, and externally, in terms of the electoral riches on offer – are the ones that people actually get excited about.
These are the issues that determine whether cooperation is possible at all. And they are not resolved by policy lists. They are resolved – if they are resolved – through argument.
Cormac’s approach – and that of many of the commenters beneath his article – is to assemble a set of solutions and ask others to rally behind them.
The difficulty is that these solutions have not been through any process that would give them legitimacy.
They have not been argued over.
They have not been tested against competing instincts.
They have not been shaped by the realities of coalition.
They arrive fully formed – and ask for agreement.
That is not how political movements are built. Before a platform comes something else.
Debate.
Not commentary directed outward. Not parallel monologues. But engagement between factions. Positions set out. Objections raised. Fears aired. Trade-offs explored.
Without that, any platform will lack legitimacy. It will not command loyalty. It will not survive contact with reality.
And more than that – it is that process itself that creates the movement.
The argument. The friction. The gradual narrowing of differences. The building of relationships.
Cormac offers something like a TUI brochure of sunny destinations: here are the beachfront resorts, here is where we could end up. But it is the journey – awkward, contested, sometimes uncomfortable – that we need to go on first and builds the vehicle that gets you there.
And that is the step that is currently being skipped.
The Preference for Comfort
I’m happy to have this chance to disagree with Cormac in public, happy to be able to argue it out. I know a lot of the populists to talk to and to have a pint with. Some I know very well. It’s easy for me to imagine things being talked through. Cormac and the commenters under his article are probably more removed. The instinct in that case is to create an abstract platform and invite participation in it. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that. But it is more distant. And distance is the problem.
The reluctance to engage directly is widespread among those with a public profile on the Right. Because engagement is messy.
It is awkward. It risks saying something that might cost you standing with a respectable audience. It risks association with people you may not fully agree with. It risks losing control of the argument.
It is much easier to write a column describing the failures of the Government and the awful state of the country.
Cormac, to be fair, is more engaged than most. His Sunday Times columns often step beyond safe observation and into argument. They are more politically involved than most, more revealing of his personal, non-PC takes. He makes arguments on the Right for those on the Right.
Others – Brenda Power, Breda O’Brien, David Quinn, Maria Steen, Michael McDowell – tend to operate within narrower boundaries. They address a liberal, middle-class audience. They generally test the limits of what that respectable audience finds acceptable while remaining within them.
That’s not to criticise their motives. I’m describing an effect. In the end it means certain arguments are not made.
The Steenson–Pepper Question
Take the accusations of racism that hover over Malachy Steenson and Gavin Pepper. Those accusations are rarely examined seriously by those with national platforms.
An easy article would suggest that this pair need to moderate tone, improve presentation, distance themselves from certain supporters. That would be safe.
A harder article would look at the reality: that the communities they operate in are a lot more diverse than the Dublin middle-class readership being addressed; the fact that their biggest sin is that they were early in raising immigration as a political issue; the extent to which the label “racist” functions as a political shorthand rather than an accurate description.
That would be uncomfortable to write. It would invite criticism. But it would engage with a substantial portion of the electorate – including those who spoiled their ballots and who currently have no political home.
And it raises a real question for any columnist: do you want to end your days writing carping critiques from the sidelines about the state of the country, or do you want to be the inside voice of a movement that is remaking politics?
Mary Lou McDonald remarked to me before Christmas that “the time for name-calling is over.” That is easy to say in the abstract. Applying it in this context would be more difficult. And more meaningful.
What Real Engagement Produces
Cormac is right that policy is needed. But policy should emerge from engagement.
Take immigration again.
If figures from across the Right – newspaper columnists, social conservatives, libertarians, populists – were to engage openly, arguing about limits, language, enforcement, and electoral consequences, the result would be more than a policy document.
It would be a shared understanding. It would define what is acceptable. It would establish guardrails. It would produce messaging that reflects reality rather than theory.
Compare that to presenting a position in advance and expecting adherence.
One builds legitimacy.
The other assumes it.
Steen -McDowell Showdown
Cormac finished his article by echoing a point I had made in my recent article about the potential payoff if Maria Steen and Michael McDowell were to recognise what might be achieved through cooperation – advancing the pro-life position while simultaneously adding serious firepower to the Irish political Right.
But of course, as with Malachy Steenson and Gavin Pepper, these two are only stand-ins for much broader constituencies.
It does not have to be Steen and McDowell themselves sitting across from one another – though the prospect of that, whether addressing each other in newspaper columns or, more dramatically, on a stage together, would be pure box office. “We’ll sell you the whole seat, but you’re only going to need the edge of it.”
The roles they represent could just as easily be filled by others.
On the social conservative side: Niamh Uí Bhriain, Cora Sherlock, Angelo Bottone, Dana Rosemary Scallon.
On the more secular, middle-ground side: Noel Thomas, Cllr Bill Clear, Michael McNamara – or indeed Cormac Lucey himself.
We cannot know in advance what form any uneasy collaboration between such people might take – though we can make educated guesses.
But that is not the most important point. The important thing is that the issues are argued out in public. That the disagreements are aired. That the process is visible. Because that is what gives any eventual position legitimacy.
And more than that, it allows the supporters of each side to be brought along – even, in some sense, educated – about what is required, what is possible, and what the prize might be.
A Case Study in Avoiding Debate
Consider the example of Gript.
Over the past year, it has taken a strong pro-Israel position. John McGuirk and other writers have published detailed defences of Israel and the support it has received from the United States.
There has been, to my recollection, one dissenting article – by Matt Tracey – which essentially raised a flag and registered an objection.
Beyond that, there has been no sustained engagement with the opposing view.
This matters because that opposing view – that Israel’s actions in Gaza and the Middle East are disproportionate – is held by the overwhelming majority of the Irish public.
The issue here is not who is right. It is that there has been no debate. No testing of arguments. No attempt to engage with internal disagreement. Those who disagree feel disinclined to express it in the pages of Gript.
Ireland’s Right is not yet politically mature enough to sustain that kind of debate.
There is no forum for it.
And those with platforms are not creating one.
What Debate Might Look Like
Cormac suggests practical steps: non-aggression pacts, standing aside for stronger candidates, shared canvassing, and public debates in halls.
The last of these is the most relevant here.
Imagine a debate where John McGuirk or others defend pro-Israel positions before an audience predisposed to disagree. It is entirely possible they could win the rhetorical argument. And lose the room. That would matter.
It would reveal where the base actually stands. It would shape future positioning. It would confer legitimacy on whatever conclusion emerges. It would not be comfortable. But it would be real.
And it would be far more valuable than another, ironically titled “Battle of Ideas” event where speakers agree with one another and direct their criticism outward.
The Delahanty Example – In Miniature
A smaller but revealing example can be found in a new podcast featuring Nick Delahanty and three others. Covid arises as a topic there more often than might be expected. When it does, Nick visibly withdraws – shifting, avoiding the camera, effectively staring at the wallpaper.
This is not a criticism of him personally. He is an exceptionally patient man. As a former solicitor, he can sit among a room of amateur legal experts (“who know more than most barristers”) – many with elaborate schemes for holding on to their houses without paying mortgages, even in spite of the alleged corruption of the judiciary and the Bar! – and remain polite and forebearing throughout. Among Irish populists, he sometimes resembles a man living out his own Book of Job.
The middle ground that Cormac and I agree must be reached has its avatar in Delahanty. The day he no longer has to wonder whether the populist game is worth the candle is the day something has shifted.
He handles all of this impeccably.
But he could engage.
He could challenge the claims being made.
He could introduce tension in to that podcast.
And in doing so, he would force a discussion about what is politically viable within a movement that seeks to appeal beyond its base – and make the podcast far more watchable.
Instead, the moment passes.
Cormac’s approach would be to define boundaries in advance – what is in bounds to talk about, what is out.
The alternative is to discover them through interaction.
The Example Already Playing Out
Then there is Gavin Pepper.
While others discuss how engagement might happen, he is already doing it.
Through sustained constituency work, he has built relationships across political lines. Council officials – and even the tea ladies – defend him. Staff in council offices speak up for him. Sinn Féin representatives call out more extreme elements within their own party when accusations are made against him. Fianna Fáil places him on committees. People Before Profit works with him on local issues to ensure motions pass.
We talk about discomfort and awkwardness. That kind of engagement with other politicians raises eyebrows on our own side. Populists can debate the extent to which it should happen: Gavin is dealing with that second guessing in real time – on the streets of Ballymun, where discomfort has a different meaning entirely. All sides there are learning and working things out.
He is not waiting for commentators to rehabilitate his reputation. He is doing it through work.
Moving people off housing lists.
Marching with carers.
Supporting mothers of children with special needs.
Being present. Being effective.
We tell each other about the need to broaden beyond immigration. Gavin is doing it, daily.
And through that, he is testing approaches. He is working so hard that when there are two options, he gets to try both. See what works. Discard what doesn’t. That is debate in practice. That is how political judgement is formed.
That is how policy eventually emerges.
The Point
Cormac Lucey is right about one thing. Power lies in bringing these factions together. But that coming together cannot be built on pre-packaged policy.
It has to be built on engagement around the issues that actually divide people.
On the awkward questions.
On the uncomfortable associations.
On the disagreements people would rather avoid.
Because on the other side of that discomfort lies something that does not currently exist in Ireland: A functioning political Right. One capable of organising the discontent that is already there.
There is an audience waiting. A large one.
Call it a million people.
Call it the unrepresented.
Call it the 13%.
They are not waiting for a document. They are waiting for leadership.
And leadership begins – not with agreement – but with argument.
There’s a million-man army out there awaiting orders, looking for someone to report to. Ar aghaidh.
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