Embracing the F-Bomb: Why Politicians Should Tell Harassers to “F**k Off”
If they stick a phone in your face, tell them where to go!
In the theatrical world of politics, political courtesy and diplomacy often dress as the highest virtue, all fur and no knickers if you like, as we say in West Cork. One wonders about the sanity-maintenance mechanisms that allow our ever-courteous Councillors, Senators, TDs and election candidates brave enough to put their names on the ballot paper to function. Behind the demure smiles and carefully calibrated soundbites, the reality is that politics is a battleground of relentless scrutiny and harassment from the public, media, and even their peers. So I've got a suggestion, what might be a controversial proposal: letting politicians tell their harassers to “f**k off” and let all of social media know what politicians think of their abusers.
Maintain the sense of decorum and tradition in the hallowed chambers of Leinster House, of course. Some politicians in Leinster House never do anyway. But when some racist halfwit sticks a phone in your face claiming Ireland is full or why you are voting for people to be allowed to self-identify as a Zebra, a West Cork dolphin or whatever, you’re having yourself. Tell them to educate themselves, stop getting their news from TikTok, and would you mind f*cking off you lizard-brained imbecile?
Before you clutch your pearls and reach for some decorum, let’s peel back the philosophy underpinning my proposal. A quick look at the social media antics of the Burkes, culture warriors and whatever you fancy protesting about yourself shows that the current political discourse is anything but a genteel and civil place. Our elected officials, for better or, in some cases, worse, are human beings bombarded by criticism, often extending to deeply personal and sometimes physical attacks that transcend political disagreements.
Last week, the former Minister of Justice and Foreign Affairs Charlie Flanagan, a politician of impeccable manners and with a deep sense of duty to the state and his constituents, was harassed on the street by a member of the notorious Burke family. This attention-seeking family, characterised by some who would describe them as having extreme views, seems to draw their outrage from a blend of outdated Christian fundamentalism and folly. Their resulting mix of religious fervour and absurdity often resembles a poorly made comedy produced by our national broadcaster at RTE.
So imagine, just for a moment, allowing our politicians the freedom to deploy a verbal hand grenade when they’re cornered by the likes of the Burkes or the Ireland is full crowd. Consider the sheer liberation and authenticity such an allowance might bring! A politician who can tell detractors to “f**k off you attention-seeking social media halfwit.” It may, ironically, wield a tongue sharpened by newfound authenticity. In these unapologetic expressions of honesty, we might discover unburdened political courage, a crystal-clear window into the visceral frustrations faced by those chosen by the electorate to represent them, not be harassed by them.
Voters often loathe the polished veneer of our politicians and might find the electorate might be strangely appreciative of this stripped-down approach — a reminder that sometimes confrontation needs more than crafted speeches; it requires truth.
Moreover, the mental health benefits for politicians should not be underestimated. The pressure valve of a well-timed F-bomb could remind us all that politicians aren't superhuman punching bags. Releasing this steam might manage stress levels, alleviate the strain of constant capitulation to be ever so polite, and help resist the descent into cynicism or resignation.
A lot of potential election candidates and politicians are saying no more. F*ck this; it’s not worth it. Social media, the Janus-faced beast of connection and potential destruction, has turned every smartphone into a Judge and jury, delivering verdicts in real-time. The pressure is relentless, personal attacks are merciless, and the line between public servant and public spectacle blurs faster than a social media story that disappears. Politicians are bowing out, citing the ceaseless tide of abuse that pounds against the shores of their sanity and fear for the safety of themselves and their families, each anonymous barb just another reminder that in the age of so-called digital democracy, everyone with a keyboard thinks they wear the crown.
Of course, the logistics of embracing such colourful language are complex. The balance between assertiveness and professionalism is tricky. Part of the challenge lies in delineating the boundary between a justified outburst and unnecessary hostility. But perhaps, by acknowledging the usefulness of the occasional candid retort, we could cultivate a political atmosphere that's less about robotic civility and more about genuine human interaction with gobshites looking for likes and a view counts.
In a world where political correctness often stifles authenticity, unleashing the power of the occasional “f**k off” might do more than just shock; it could revitalise a public sphere desperate for sincerity, hoping for a future where politicians can sometimes lay down their polished scripts and, armed with only the truth of raw emotion, tell an unfair critic exactly where to go. Welcome to Tull’s theory for a new political discourse — refreshingly real, radically concise, and fabulously unrestrained.