Where did it all go wrong? Any sober, dispassionate analysis of Micheál Martin’s performance since last July would indicate he has lost his previous reputation for competence. He is now stumbling from misstep to disastrous intervention, buoyed only by occasional glimpses of previous brilliance. 

A storied-prizefighter, shipping damage late on because his swansong was one fight too many. Desperate to cling on, right to the final bell, hoping against hope that something will happen that will change the trajectory of failure, that all who dare to do know instinctively. And like that punch-drunk archetype, he is being held up by his opponents.

These opponents are mostly within the Fianna Fáil parliamentary party, once a forum that genuinely reflected an aspect of Ireland that the east-coast elites always struggled to recognise, now a hollowed-out husk. Angry and hurt at Micheál Martin for ignoring them, while neglecting to admit their own role in the effective governing of the country, in the midst of an international crisis of historic proportions.

Last summer, Martin had four-and-a-half years of political mandate ahead of him, with Fianna Fáil the undisputed top dog in a Grand Coalition, the victorious rearguard of the Irish political centre. Now, he is crawling desperately, on all fours, to the temporary safe haven of July 1 and the EU presidency, which observers imagine will provide him six months of cover from his sniping rebels.

There are three big mistakes that Martin has made since his reaching his career zenith last summer. One grave error saw his authority instantly dissipate, and two others demonstrated that once political authority is gone, it very rarely returns.

The selection of Jim Gavin

The Fianna Fáil inquiry into the presidential election catastrophe confirmed that former Dublin GAA manager Jim Gavin approached the party’s deputy leader Jack Chambers through a football intermediary on June 9.

A parliamentary party is a centralised operation and Gavin’s selection was possible only with Micheál Martin’s imprimatur. Yet the report also conceded that Martin met Gavin only once before his selection.

By August 24, the party leadership’s backing of Gavin leaked out.

By August 30, Martin backed Gavin publicly, saying: ‘He has the right values; he has a life of service to the nation.’

All of Martin’s faults – benign dictatorial aloofness, contempt for the opinions of subordinates and a haughty disdain for retail canvassing – manifested themselves in the selection of a candidate whom one senior Fianna Fáil elected figure described, after meeting him, as a ‘dud’.

Yet, for reasons that Martin has never explained, Gavin was locked in as the Fianna Fáil choice long before the wider party knew of any contact.

In tandem, Martin dismissed the candidacies of his own former boss Bertie Ahern, who had elevated Martin to Cabinet, and – mystifyingly, considering his popularity and former closeness to the Taoiseach – Billy Kelleher.

For a Fianna Fáil leader to back someone with no prior connection to the party, over stalwarts who had given their lives to it was unprecedented.

These ruthless, unilateral actions had two effects. First, when it all fell apart, Martin’s brusque and cold treatment of his colleagues meant he would receive little sympathy from the Fianna Fáil parliamentary party.

And second, they meant that Martin was all in on Gavin and had total ownership of the move.

Gavin had a halting speaking style, a lack of political charisma and negligible media skills.

On the surface, the Fianna Fáil leader persevered with the candidate, but looking back, Martin’s lack of presence on the campaign indicated he was already distancing himself.

The party’s inquiry into the farce found that two figures at the top, Martin’s chief-of-staff Deirdre Gillane and his deputy-leader Jack Chambers received warnings (from a respected journalist and a fellow TD respectively) about Gavin’s potential issues – unsubstantiated of course at this point – to do with a tenant.

Martin himself – in the mumble he uses to emit damaging facts – admitted in an RTÉ interview that he had been informed of the potential tenant issues before the vote to select a candidate.

But, as Leas Ceann Comhairle John McGuinness confirmed to me, Martin canvassed him to vote for Gavin on the very morning of the vote, despite having been passed the information.

Gavin was selected by the parliamentary party over Kelleher by 41 votes to 29. Then, on October 5, less than a month after his selection, it all fell apart.

In totality, this was a catastrophic error that was wholly owned by Martin, and a mature, functioning political party would have held him accountable.

Despite admitting ‘we didn’t get this right’ and that he took ‘full responsibility for that’, he didn’t resign. But he has lost control of his parliamentary party and can no longer discipline anyone for speaking out of turn, or failing to heed his directions.

He is now completing some form of political half-life, with rebels who won’t, or can’t, pull the trigger on a coup – and rivals who prefer to sit and wait until Martin’s political career peters out so they can have a bloodless transition.

That is the fabled holy grail of political succession, which is as rare as it is wonderful.

The Mercosur deal

Martin pleaded for understanding from his colleagues in the run-up to Christmas. He had meetings in his office with backbenchers and pledged to be more collegiate and inclusive in the future. But he was back to his old ways as soon as he leapt free from immediate retribution.

In early January, the Taoiseach made another grievous miscalculation, seeming to signal an 11th-hour attempt to U-turn on the massive Mercosur trade deal, an anathema to Irish farmers.

The Coalition had pledged in the Programme for Government to oppose Mercosur. Then, when in Japan, Martin told reporters: ‘A lot of progress has been made over the last 12 months. That has to be said. The Government will continue to engage with our partners in Europe on this [Mercosur deal], and we will make a decision towards the end of the week.’

Previously supportive Fianna Fáil TDs like Tipperary’s Ryan O’Meara were chagrined at the political backlash in their constituencies and, in what was to be an unheeded warning, so was then-minister Michael Healy-Rae.

Martin, after a Zoom meeting with a bemused Simon Harris at home, quickly backed off. But the farmers, unlike Martin’s parliamentary party, smelled blood and came for it in April.

The fuel protests

As this rolled around, Martin was in the worst possible position – no matter what action he took, it was deemed wrong by different sectors for different reasons.

This is what weariness with a damaged leader looks like. For the majority, the Government should not have let the protesters become so advanced in their blockades.

Internal Fine Gael spin drowned out Fianna Fáil spin to characterise Justice Minister Jim O’Callaghan – the only minister to actually do anything that week – as having done something wrong in calling out the Army.

Fianna Fáil backbenchers and Coalition Independents tried to play a double game, cosying up to protesters, capitalising on the Taoiseach’s weakness. Things came to a head after the blockades were broken, with a no-confidence motion that saw the Coalition lose two Independents.

While Danny Healy-Rae was unlikely to side with the Government, his brother Michael openly declared his intention to vote yes on the Sunday before the vote.

But on the Tuesday, this vote had changed to a no. And he was gone.

Despite what Martin mumbled this week, this was because of contact from his office to Healy-Rae’s office, insisting that a ‘two-for-one’ vote for a junior ministry deal would be enforced.

There is significant dispute over how much Martin’s Fine Gael Coalition partners knew about this tough-guy approach. But Martin’s damaged position in his parliamentary party meant he couldn’t wear it. In any case, Healy-Rae’s departure and the mishandling of the protests led to a backbench revolt. And more authority ebbed away, as the clock continues to count down to July 1.