In Paul Lynch's novel The Prophet's Song, a far-right party has come to power in Ireland. Until very recently, it would have been considered an almost science fiction scenario. But not since this week a couple of hundred ultra protesters blocked the Parliament headquarters in Dublin in a small-scale approximation of the assault on the Capitol by Trump's troops or the advance of Canadian truckers towards Ottawa, preventing deputies from entering. or they went out.
Traumatized by the war of independence, the civil war and the terrorism of the IRA, and neutral in World War II (to the despair of London, which saw it as a betrayal), the country has been dominated for decades by an establishment and two parties of center (Fianna Fáil and Fine Gael), separated not by ideology but by whether they historically supported Eamon de Valera or Michael Collins.
But everything is changing very quickly in Ireland. Sinn Féin, the former political arm of the IRA that now represents an anti-imperialist leftism with slight populist overtones, was the party with the most votes in the last elections, and has only been deprived of power by a sui generis coalition between its two main rivals, in by virtue of which Leo Varadkar (Fine Gael) and Michéal Martin (Fianna Fáil) have taken turns in power for two years each. But that formula will be difficult to repeat.
The seams of post-war Irish moderation are cracking not only on the left (polls give a clear lead to Sinn Féin) but, more worryingly, on the far right. The protesters who blocked the streets adjacent to Parliament for much of the afternoon on Wednesday were not many, but they were very aggressive, especially towards ethnic minority deputies. They shouted racist insults at black people, threw plastic bags filled with urine, shouted slogans such as “Ireland first” and “Ireland for the Irish”, and displayed effigies of the police chief and the Equality Minister with a noose around their necks. .
Ireland has gone from being a nation that exports immigrants to one where 20% of the population was born abroad. But the object of the anger of small far-right groups such as the Freedom Party, the National Party or the Anti-Corruption Party are not only foreigners but also gays and transsexuals, and the entire political class in general. It is the same recipe that, with small variations, is cooked everywhere: anti-globalization, anti-vaccines, against the “dissolution of the traditional family” (Catholic) and against sexual education in schools, against support for Ukraine and even against the proposal of a constitutional amendment that guarantees the right to housing. In different counties, neo-fascist elements have gone to public libraries demanding the removal of children's books that in their opinion encourage homosexuality and pedophilia. Others go to refugee reception centers and hotels that house asylum seekers to demand that they “be returned to their countries.” A video of a gymnastics competition has gone viral, at the end of which all participants receive a medal, except for a black girl. Has Ireland changed that much?
The blockade of Parliament has sparked debate over whether Irish democracy is in danger. At the moment the extreme right is neither united nor organized, and lacks the necessary strength to obtain parliamentary representation. But in the increasingly likely scenario that Sinn Féin comes to power next year or in 2025, the picture could change. In Catholic, insular and nationalist Ireland there is the potential to motivate hundreds of thousands of socially conservative voters who have never fully assimilated the liberalization of abortion, divorce and homosexuality.
The far right appeals to the many citizens frustrated and dissatisfied by skyrocketing housing prices, inflation, immigration and the cost of climate change measures, and offers them a sense of identity and camaraderie. The danger is not so much that there will be an Irish Duce, but that the center parties will take over part of the message, as is already happening in other countries.
