Ellen Coyne: Even the worst politicians care about a cause other than themselves

I love elections, which is a fact that often escapes me for as long as four years at a time. I initially respond to news of an election like an unwelcome wedding invitation. Here comes an inconvenient ceremony that demands a lot of effort from me, despite the fact that I am totally superfluous to the occasion.

But once you’re in the thick of them, elections, like weddings, inspire one of my favourite feelings: outsized sentimentality about the human condition. For weeks, the country allows itself to at least witness, if not happily participate, in the absurd romance of electoral politics. The gestures are as grand as they are degrading.



“Muintir na hÉireann,” our would-be leaders say, “witness me, inexplicably astride this buffalo cow, for you.” “People of Ireland,” their eager eyes tell us, “watch me nervously jive with this eccentric Monaghan woman in exchange for the trust of you and your family.”.