Michael D is back home, and he’s not holding back.
Any advice for fellow retired statesmen? asks the Advertiser, of Michael D Higgins (84 ), now just over 100 days past his 14-year presidency.
“Keep reading, and stay open to new evidence that might change your mind,” he advises, seated on a high-backed chair in his Circular Road study, surrounded by hundreds of books, and boxes still unpacked after the move home from Phoenix Park late last year. A coiled Galway United scarf sits on a shelf.
And, what about, say, for a statesman across the pond, approaching his eighties, who famously does not read books? “I don’t know. He’s going to run out of gold paint eventually.”
And with that quip – delivered with whip crack speed – we know Michael D is back. Not just back to Galway, his adopted and beloved home town, but a return to acerbic form after 14 years of being constitutionally and diplomatically straitjacketed in what he may say, especially if holding the powerful to account.
But Michael D, up there with rare political giants, like JFK - instantly recognisable by initials alone - disagrees with that analysis.
“You see, this is the thing about the presidency: if you bring to the presidency what your life has been like up to that point, it would be entirely false to invent a fictional version of yourself for your new circumstances. And I certainly wasn’t interested in that.”
Every sentence he says, is layered with triple meanings, undergrads of the future may be forced to unpick. Higgins is almost impossible to interview, because he flows from sociology to soccer to UN sustainable development goals, without drawing breath.
For example, the quote above, is actually a dig at the Irish Times and Department of Foreign Affairs.
He explains: “There was a difference of opinion as to who exactly was responsible for [Ireland’s] foreign policy,” adding that the overworked president, mandated to read reams of legislation in a constitutionally tight time frame, and attend important engagements, was under constant pressure to change his clothes – and so was his wife – to pose for diplomatic photographs, stipulated by Iveagh House.
“I don't believe the presidency should be the property of any Department of State. I think it is at its best - and I think of the people who preceded me - when used to reflect the values and concerns of those who elect it.”
Foreign policy
The 1948 Government of Ireland Act awards the President, on the advice of Government, executive power concerning the State’s external relations. His criticism of the US, NATO, Russia and Israel stems from this. Whether he had authority to do so, is another question.
Higgins is a keen follower of international politics, especially African, US, Middle Eastern, Latin American and British developments. He has lived, studied or pursued activism in several countries over six decades, and has first-hand accounts of all.
His conversation swings from critiquing the 1904-1906 Limerick boycott of Jewish shops, to the devastation in Gaza, where bakeries are bombed.
“The horrific events of [Hamas’ October 7 attacks in 2023] were condemned, and rightly so, but the response...? Which is correctly called, in my view, a genocide, because not only is it the loss of life, there is the destruction of the way of life too.”
While a student in Manchester, he recalls attending a demonstration against Enoch Powell. He had his worldviews, formed by republicanism and socialism, before ever being elected a Labour councillor in Galway city, and later TD, but he has travelled worldwide to hone them.
Even today, from his small study in Rahoon, filled with keepsakes from around the world, Higgins is in constant correspondence with scores of thinkers, doers and servants of the oppressed.
The former president is updated by medics he met visiting the West Bank and Gaza. He speaks to Irish veterans who served in Lebanon. He quotes verbatim from reports of seminal symposia decades ago. It is hard to imagine, but a modest house overlooking Westside is a node of global diplomacy, intelligence, academic rigour and Terryland match reports.
Higgins' descriptions and memories of important dialogues with Arab or El Salvadorean interlocutors are impossible to grapple with for a lowly reporter, until Sabina Coyne Higgins interrupts the flow, with a tray of chocolates and tea. The tall actress, and formidable political activist in her own right, slices through her husband’s complex, multi-layered and erudite musings, which re-commence when she withdraws.
“I want to share that Sabina and I were absolutely overwhelmed by the warmth of welcome we have received since coming back to Galway.” The Higgins were particularly touched by neighbours lining the road, on the rainy winter’s day they returned. “It was a great privilege to be president,” says Michael D, but he insists the “fourteen years of work put in at the Áras was done by Sabina and I.”
They attended St Oliver Plunkett Church, in Renmore, for Christmas, and have been spotted in a city centre restaurant. One gets the impression the couple is slowly reintegrating, after the rarefied bubble of Áras an Uchtaráin. “I was told to ‘cocoon’ there during Covid,” complains Michael D, “a term I considered unpalatable.”
Higgins says his first stint, 2011 to 2018, was dominated by the aftermath of the Great Recession.
Remembering the War of Independence, in which his father and uncle fought, was another theme “and was one of the reasons why I ran for a second term” he says. Higgins is proud of his contribution, especially creating 1916 educational resources for primary schools, although he does criticise some Civil War commemoration, in that it was not understood, parsed or remembered enough.
Has he thought about how he might be remembered? “Certainly not!” he growls.
Health, hearth and home
Bedecked in a three-piece tweed suit, the colour of blue heather, and cream shirt, Higgins has a tendency to fidget when he talks. He looks like an amiable grandfather, crossed with mad professor, forever immortalised as a tea cosy from Tallaght.
Of famously short stature, he recalls, with a sly smile, when US vice president Mike Pence's bodyguards considered him a "potential threat". He is, however, a political colossus, and one of the great orators of Dáil Éireann, who lambasted many an opponent.
Age is the enemy now. Exactly two years ago, he had a stroke, and he admits his balance is off kilter since. After being rushed to hospital by ambulance, he was disappointed the medic performing a neurological assessment did not ask the standard question: "Who is the president of Ireland?" The humour persists.
“I don't find the ageing process a thrilling experience, but I'll keep going at this for as long as I can,” is the message he wishes Galway Advertiser readers to know. He has plans for academic writing, and advocacy. If he declared candidacy for the upcoming Galway West by-election, he’d probably walk it.
Michael recalls his unsuccessful tilt at a by-election in Galway, in 1975, when he won 19 per cent of the vote compared to Maire Geoghegan Quinn, elected on 45 per cent. He refuses to be drawn on the upcoming Galway West by-election, necessitated by Catherine Connnolly’s elevation to the Áras, and even nudging the conversation that direction is barred by Higgins, who suffers not, insolent, headline-chasing enquiries.
“I wish everyone well in the office [of president] but I had the advantage of being a minister, so I had been on the other side of the table getting legislation drafted, because I drafted the Heritage Act and I drafted the Cultural Institutions bill,” he explains, as well as being a professor of politics.
He said he welcomes reports that presidential staff numbers in Áras an Uchtaráin have risen from 31 to 33 for Catherine Connolly’s term. The current president “has very good values” but regardless, the surge in complex bills modern presidents must digest and determine within one week means more specialist, legislative assistance is required.
Higgins also reckons the Constitution needs updating on two elements germane to the presidency. One is procedural: how cabinets are formed, and how regular meetings a taoiseach must have with the president are conducted. The other, more radical: citizens need the ability to challenge laws approved by the Supreme Court after referral to it by the president.
Higgins, and his Council of State, considered referring three bills to the Supreme Court: the 2013 Protection of Life During Pregnancy Bill, 2015 International Protection Bill, and the 2024 Defence (Amendment ) Bill. He did refer the 2022 Judicial Appointments Commission Bill, which was upheld by the constitutional court. His predecessors, presidents Mary Robinson and Mary McAleese, were more maximalist in their terms, considering 15 bills between them, after invoking Article 26.
One wonders if Supreme Court-approved legislation was challengeable, would Higgins have sent more bills to be tested? He did come under sustained public pressure on numerous occasions to refuse his signature, despite this being a legal blackhole. If a memoir ever reveals his thinking, it will be devoured.
Regrets
The former president confirms homesickness during his first term, and regrets not overnighting in Galway more frequently, rather than fleeting visits for functions. He says the hardest part of the presidency “was the elimination of private space,” and his deepest remorse is not spending more time with family and friends, some of whom passed while he was in office, such as poet Paul Durkin, and playwright Tom Murphy.
He also wonders if he and Sabina “took on too much, in many cases” and outlines examples of gruelling days for anyone, nevermind a couple in their eighties. A lack of time spent at 'Aimhirgin' in Galway, means they have a lot of work now “to sort out our house,” despite security upgrades in 2018.
Iar-Uachtarán na hÉireann, Mícheál Dónal Ó hUigínn, father of four, is a grandfather now. Fiadh (6 ) and Finn (3 ) bring him and Sabina great joy on weekend visits. But becoming a grandparent also causes him to reflect on his own family life.
“It has reminded me of the price politicians pay from being absent from crucial stages in their children's lives, and also of the heroic generosity of partners in filling the gaps that shouldn't have been allowed to develop.”
Sabina C and Michael D pose at the doorway to their home, for a parting photograph, as the Advertiser lurks behind, in the hall. They have faced many thousands of cameras; gripped for innumerable, perhaps insufferable selfies, over 14 long years.
What the camera could never catch, is that behind their backs, just for a moment, their hands meet, caress and squeeze.
Home now. For good.
