Meet the new politics. Same as the old politics

Pat Leahy: Leo Varadkar has to break the mould to emulate Blair and Macron

Political gamble: Máire Whelan is formally appointed to the Court of Appeal by President Michael D Higgins and Taoiseach Leo Varadkar. Photograph: Colin Keegan/Collins

Leo Varadkar's first 10 days as Taoiseach have upended the central relationship in both Government and politics between Fine Gael and Fianna Fáil and brought the prospect of a general election closer. Although I still think that an election this year is less likely than one next year – that being perceived by both parties as where their interests lie – those odds can't be far from 50:50.

Talk to the machine men in both parties and it's clear that their focus has moved to the prospect of an election in the short to medium term. Watch those Oireachtas envelopes flood out the door in the next few weeks, one insider says, advising his colleagues to do precisely that. Selection conventions will be accelerated in the coming weeks.

An election would be particularly risky for the governing centre, which is where both Fine Gael and Fianna Fáil reside

As the prospect of an election grows so will the political and economic uncertainty that inevitably surrounds it. As we have seen in the past year, elections in western countries are deeply unpredictable at the moment. The simmering dissatisfaction with established politics and deeply embedded grumpiness towards their leaders that have been so evident in electorates elsewhere are present in Ireland, too; it would be unusual were they not. That makes an election a risky business for all politicians, but particularly of the governing centre, which is where both Fine Gael and Fianna Fáil reside.

Leo Varadkar and Micheál Martin got off to a great start, with a frank and constructive meeting before Varadkar became Taoiseach, in which they agreed to maintain their parties' confidence-and-supply agreement and accelerate the work of parliament. But things have gone pretty rapidly downhill since then, and relations between Fine Gael and Fianna Fáil are now putrid.

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Varadkar, I understand, was privately angry about Enda Kenny's parting gift to Máire Whelan, his attorney general. How could he not be? As well as leaving Varadkar with a political grenade on his first day, Kenny's linking of Whelan's appointment to the Court of Appeal to the reopening of Shane Ross's favourite Garda station, in Stepaside, has destroyed the Minister for Transport's credibility as a purveyor of a new and different type of politics. Neither of these things is likely to be an accident. Kenny is too wily for that.

Confronted with the Whelan nomination and the rising controversy, Varadkar did what he normally does. He reflected, resolved and then acted decisively, bringing forward Whelan’s formal appointment by President Michael D Higgins so that all future debate would be about a sitting, and therefore constitutionally and politically untouchable, judge. This was a gamble, but the alternatives – allowing the controversy to fester or moving to withdraw the nomination – were also fraught with uncertainty.

Varadkar’s boldness enabled him to come through this first, unexpected political challenge of his premiership. But it does not come without a cost.

Varadkar and Martin's alpha-male rivalry will become a central feature of Irish politics, but unless they can do business together this Government is finished

Most obviously, there has been a complete breakdown in relations between the Fine Gael and Fianna Fáil leaders. The personal edge and lack of trust between them were clear in the Dáil on Tuesday and Wednesday. As Noel Whelan noted yesterday, their alpha-male rivalry will become a central feature of Irish politics, but the significance goes beyond this: unless the two big parties can do business together this Government is finished.

Talk to people in both parties about the anatomy of recent events and what is striking is that neither side tried to reach out to the other and defuse the controversy. Nobody was phoning people on the other side and saying, “If we did this, or if we said that, would it help?” That’s how relations normally work in these situations. That’s the oil that enables the machinery of politics and government to work. But this machine is out of oil.

Martin’s anger is genuine and not entirely unjustified. Although Fianna Fáil is never at its most convincing when it seeks to occupy the high moral ground, Martin had more than a point about the Whelan appointment. The Government’s refusal to answer any of the legitimate questions about it, sticking instead to the twin mantras that she was an excellent candidate and had been appointed properly, bears this out.

Be that as it may, it’s also hard to escape the conclusion that at least some of Fianna Fáil’s anger is down to Martin’s having been politically outmanoeuvred by Varadkar, as well as to the new Taoiseach’s demonstration that he was not going to let Martin push him around in the Dáil in the way that Kenny had sometimes let him.

Varadkar can appeal to undecided voters if he can convince them he is different. But strong-arming Whelan's appointment through was old politics with knobs on

But there is another cost to Varadkar that is less immediately evident. Varadkar’s great potential political advantage is heavily linked to his novelty. Voters think he is different, tells it like it is, isn’t a normal politician. He has the possibility of appealing to all those grumpy undecided voters if he can convince them he is really different. But that actually requires him to be different.

Strong-arming through an appointment, in your first act as Taoiseach, that had all the hallmarks of a political stroke is the very opposite of being different. It’s old politics with knobs on.

If he wants to remake politics and bend it to his advantage – as Tony Blair did, and as Emmanuel Macron is doing – Varadkar will have to change it. There's no sign of that in the events of the past 10 days.