Why Mary Hanafin Won't be President

Fianna Fáil would want to be mad to run her.

The story may be apocryphal but it does cut to the core of the public persona of Mary Hanafin. A constituent who was, it being Dun Laoghaire, a member of the affluent classes once attended our Minister's clinic in pursuit of some minor favour. On entering, he was surprised to be handed a number for it wasn't the passport office, so he promptly put it in his pocket and forgot about it. Such indeed was his level of forgetfulness that as he perused his edition of the Irish Times he hardly heard the first call of 'Uimhir a h'aon.'

After a brief silence a far more stentorian bark of 'Uimhir a h'aon anois, le do thoil' (number 1, now please) caused our man to almost fall out of his chair. For a brief moment the constituent was distracted until he looked at the number and realised he was the delinquent one. With head bowed, our Senior Counsel entered the office, knees quivering in a manner he had not felt since the last time he was in the headmaster's office in primary school.

It is, of course, that very headmistress persona that has made it so difficult for Ms Hanafin to be accepted by the Fianna Fáil 'lads'. The party has, as Mary O'Rourke could testify, always had a difficulty in dealing with acerbic women who do not smile shyly and melt if one of the 'lads' does them the kindness of tipping her a wink.

They admit she is 'able' but there is something too much of the schoolteacher eternally clad in a prim, high-necked blouse about Mary. She reminds them too much of Irish summer schools and cold showers mingled with bracing walks, brown bread and porridge for breakfast. — extract from John Drennan’s 2011 book — Cute Hoors and Pious Protesters: Traits and Characteristics of Irish Politicians. (Local bookshop link)

Former government minister Mary Hanafin has decided that what Ireland really needs right now is—wait for it—her as President. Because nothing says “national interest” like a Fianna Fáil dusting off the “30 years of public service” hoary old chestnut. Hanafin lost her seat in the Dáil during the great Fianna Fáil obliteration in the 2011 General election and has steadfastly refused to go away since. There’s a very fine line between admirable political tenacity and total lack of self-awareness.

Hanafin, no stranger to political knife fights, told RTE that past presidential campaigns have been “vicious.” But fear not, voters! Her sins are already public record, so no need for political pundits like me to rehash them. “All my mistakes are well known,” she declared, which is either refreshing honesty or a desperate pre-emptive strike against future headlines. If she were to run, there would be a lot of headlines. Alas, a lot of them will be negative for our potential candidate.

She’s even had a chat with party leader Micheál Martin, who presumably nodded politely while mentally calculating how much a Hanafin candidacy would cost the party in dignity and polling numbers. “The Taoiseach knows me well,” she added, and to be honest, that may or may not be a good thing.

In the end, Hanafin’s pitch boils down to: Let Fianna Fáil run someone—preferably me—because sure, what’s the worst that could happen? Well, wait till I tell you….