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The election of Catherine Connolly as Ireland’s tenth President on 25 October surprised nobody paying attention to how the race unfolded. With only two candidates on the ballot, the outcome was baked in long before polling day. Connolly secured 63.4 per cent of valid votes on the first count, leaving Fine Gael’s Heather Humphreys far behind and exposing the growing fatigue with the centrist political order that has dominated the State for decades.
Her margin of victory will be remembered, but so will the number of people who refused to endorse the process at all. A record-breaking 12.9 per cent of ballots were spoiled, the highest in the history of the State and a tenfold increase on the 1.2 per cent recorded in the 2018 presidential election. What should have been a routine ceremonial election instead doubled as a referendum on whether large parts of the electorate consider the system legitimate.
That discontent had already surfaced in the Oireachtas on 22 October, when Aontú leader Peadar Tóibín tabled a motion to overhaul the presidential nomination process. Under the 1937 Constitution, prospective candidates need the signatures of either 20 Oireachtas members or four local authorities. Tóibín argued that these requirements were engineered to block “undesirables” and that the system effectively funnels voters into establishment-approved options. “Let the people pick the President,” he said. Many voters appear to have taken the point.
The proposals debated included reducing the nomination threshold in both the Oireachtas and local authorities and allowing public nomination through 35,000 verified signatures. Critics questioned the administrative burden of public nominations, but supporters said it would finally break the Fianna Fáil–Fine Gael duopoly over the ballot. The government, represented by Minister James Browne, tried to play both sides, signalling no strong objections while hiding behind vague promises of future reviews and possible referendums. Labour’s Duncan Smith countered with a familiar line, insisting the office needed “gravitas” and that easy access to the ballot would diminish it. To many, that sounded like another way of saying the electorate could not be trusted.
The spike in spoiled votes tells its own story. Concentrated in parts of Dublin and other disadvantaged areas, analysts have identified both spontaneous and organised protest voting. With only Connolly and Humphreys in the running, the contest appeared tightly stage-managed. Polling before the election suggested 49 per cent of voters did not feel represented by either candidate. More than half wanted nomination rules loosened. When the ballot papers were counted, more than 213,000 were rejected—each one a direct signal of disengagement from a political class that has not delivered on housing, healthcare, or security.
For conservatives, this was predictable. When elites design a system that narrows choice and then behave as if public tolerance is bottomless, the eventual recoil tends to be sharp. Connolly’s victory is part of that recoil, but so is the rejection of the process that delivered it.
Connolly herself is a known quantity: a 68-year-old independent TD from Galway West, elected to the Dáil in 2016 after a long career in local politics. She has built a reputation for independence, siding frequently with left-wing positions while avoiding formal party structures. The campaign reflected that stance. While Humphreys tried to present fiscal steadiness and continuity, Connolly leaned into themes of social justice, housing failures, and environmental urgency. With the country trapped in a deep housing crisis and the government exhausted after years of drift, those themes found a receptive audience.
Her campaign benefited from Sinn Féin’s backing, giving her a broad base on the left. She handled the issue of Irish reunification carefully, signalling support without pushing the divisive rhetoric that could alienate centrist voters. But her mandate is not as deep as the headline numbers suggest. With the government parties unable to agree on a single candidate. Fianna Fáil’s disunity compounded this. Connolly’s victory is substantial in percentage terms but shallow in endorsement. Many who voted for her did so because there was no credible alternative.
International reactions have ranged from uneasy to openly critical. In EU circles, the concern is straightforward: Connolly is sceptical of NATO, critical of Brussels, and abrasive on foreign policy. These positions cut against the grain of an EU increasingly intent on centralised defence frameworks and foreign policy alignment. Some European media framed her win as a further complication for the bloc. Le Monde described her as an advocate of reunification with a “coolness” toward Brussels. The Guardian emphasised her left-wing record and her criticisms of Western policy in the Middle East, suggesting potential friction with governments anxious about her past remarks on Israel and Gaza.
Her comments in the aftermath of 7 October—describing Israel as a “terrorist state” and initially portraying Hamas as part of the “Palestinian fabric” before later clarifying, triggered criticism from Israeli officials and pro-Israel commentators. The Times of Israel characterised her as a “far-left victor” poised to amplify hostile narratives. American analysis has been more circumspect, with The Washington Post noting her critique of global inequality while raising questions about how her foreign policy instincts align with Ireland’s relationship with the United States.
In Britain, the dominant framing has been to present her as a Corbyn-style figure. The “Irish Jeremy Corbyn” label, first pushed by British tabloids, was repeated across conservative outlets. The Daily Mail ran a profile calling her “Dublin’s Corbyn,” highlighting her anti-establishment posture and foreign policy positions. The Spectator went further, describing her election as “a low for Ireland,” accusing the electorate of capitulating to the “far-left” and warning of consequences for Irish business confidence. Jeremy Corbyn himself congratulated her publicly, calling her a “voice for peace, social justice and a united Ireland.” What progressives celebrate, conservatives view as a warning sign.
From an ECR perspective, this election exposes several structural vulnerabilities. Connolly’s supporters are correct in one sense: democratic participation has been overly constrained by a nomination system designed for another era. But the solution is not the kind of ideological leftism that Connolly represents. The protest vote and the election result both show the erosion of trust in establishment structures. Yet the answer to that erosion lies in conservative principles — subsidiarity, institutional integrity, and a political culture rooted in responsibility rather than theatrical gestures.
Connolly’s scepticism toward NATO, voiced in the middle of an increasingly unstable geopolitical environment, raises legitimate concerns. With Russia’s aggression reshaping security priorities across Europe, the notion that Ireland should pull further away from collective security runs counter to the practical need for deterrence. A presidency that uses its moral platform to signal disengagement will not strengthen Ireland’s position.
The deeper problem, however, does not lie with Connolly alone. The government’s mismanagement of the nomination process, the fragmentation within the coalition, and the complacency shown by both governing parties created the perfect vacuum for her rise. The spoiled vote phenomenon illustrates how disengaged large segments of the population have become from the political centre. Many do not see a meaningful distinction between the major parties. Others believe the system is constructed to produce predetermined outcomes.
The Oireachtas debate on reforming nominations will not disappear. The scale of protest voting ensures the issue will return quickly. Whether the government accelerates reform or allows the issue to linger will reveal much about its capacity to recognise the dangers in front of it. The presidential election may be ceremonial, but the anger behind those 213,000 spoiled ballots is not. It reflects a deeper dislocation, particularly among voters who feel ignored on housing, immigration, local security, and the direction of the State.
Connolly’s presidency will test whether Ireland’s institutions can absorb a figure often at odds with mainstream policy. Her priorities — economic redistribution, environmental activism, rights advocacy, and reunification symbolism — are unlikely to align with the instincts of a sizeable portion of the country. She has the energy of a protest candidate, but she now occupies an office built on continuity. That tension will define the next seven years.
For the governing parties, this election marks a turning point. A new left-wing alignment is consolidating. Sinn Féin, left independents, Greens, and social campaigners have shown an ability to coordinate around shared goals. There is no comparable coherence on the right. Despite widespread dissatisfaction among conservative voters, there is no unified machinery, no common platform, and no appetite among existing parties to construct one. That vacuum is widening.
Ireland’s political realignment is underway. Connolly’s victory did not cause it, but it has made it impossible to ignore. The spoiled ballots, the weak field, the fractured centre, and the rise of a coordinated left all point toward a deeper shift. Whether conservatives respond with organisation or continue to fragment will determine the next decade of Irish politics far more than any ceremonial speech from the Áras.