Ireland has inaugurated its new President. Catherine Connolly took office, vowing to drive transformation, oppose militarization, and work towards a unified Ireland. These pledges could potentially put her at odds with both Ireland’s own government and its allies across Europe and America.
Domestically, Connolly represents a novel electoral outcome. Ireland’s Prime Ministers (taoisigh) have historically emerged exclusively from Fianna Fáil or Fine Gael, centre-right parties whose distinctions are largely historical and whose contemporary perspectives are quite similar. Connolly’s campaign successfully united Ireland’s left and centre-left parties under a common banner. While the next general election is still four years away, her victory offers a proven model for those seeking more radical shifts.
Her supporters will find encouragement in the decisive margin of her win: in a three-way contest, Connolly emerged victorious, securing more votes than any candidate in Irish electoral history, despite low voter turnout.
Of more immediate, and international, importance are the positions adopted by Ireland’s new President on global issues.
The Irish presidency serves as head of state, though its primary functions are restricted to signing legislation and making public appointments. The majority of the President’s duties are performed under the guidance of the government, making it largely a symbolic office.
Yet, successive Presidents have frequently expanded these boundaries. Mary Robinson, elected in 1990, spurred increased national expenditure on overseas aid through visits to famine-stricken Africa. The election of Mary McAleese in 1997, marking the first time a President originated from Northern Ireland (officially part of the U.K.), added impetus to the peace negotiations that culminated in the Good Friday Agreement in 1998, and contributed to healing the divisions caused by 30 years of armed conflict between loyalist and republican paramilitaries. Michael D. Higgins, Connolly’s predecessor, utilized his platform to address not only key domestic concerns like the housing crisis, but also Ireland’s unease with the unfolding conflict in Gaza.
As Connolly settles into her new role, a question arises: will she seek to further extend the limits of presidential interventions—and what might be the impact on Ireland’s international relations?
In supporting the Palestinian cause, Ireland perceives parallels with its own history, sympathizing with a similar pursuit of incomplete nationhood. Elsewhere, however, this perspective is often misconstrued as anti-Western sentiment or outright antisemitism.
This perception is prevalent in the U.S., where Ireland has, at times, been regarded as somewhat of a free rider. President Trump has pledged to reclaim the pharmaceutical and technology giants, such as Pfizer, Eli Lilly, Intel, and Apple, that have made low-tax Ireland their European base, generating substantial revenue for a country of just 5.5 million. Meanwhile, Trump’s hawkish advisors, along with others in an increasingly militarized Europe, view Ireland—militarily neutral itself, yet surrounded by NATO members—as benefiting from the defense spending of other nations.
Irish support for Palestine culminated in the unilateral recognition of Palestinian statehood in 2024, prompting the recall of Israel’s ambassador in Dublin and accusations that Ireland had rewarded the October 7 Hamas attack. Ireland has also spearheaded efforts to investigate Israel for war crimes, and intends to prohibit imports from unauthorized Israeli settlements in the West Bank—two campaigns that have received a frosty reception in Washington. After cultivating strong ties with Democrats, including the Irish-American Joe Biden, Dublin now finds itself without its customary friendly audience—and, increasingly, without common ground.
This represents a low-level diplomatic challenge that Ireland’s representatives have been diligently working to mitigate—an effort that could, potentially, clash with comments from their new President. Earlier this year, in a parliamentary discussion on the invasion of Ukraine, Connolly stated that Russia was not the sole untrustworthy global actor: “America is one of those,” she asserted, “and England and France are others.” The new President has also criticized the E.U.—which enjoys high public approval, and whose rotating presidency Ireland assumes next July—regarding its “militarization” initiatives.
Connolly’s remarks concerning the U.K. might partly explain why the Democratic Unionist Party, the largest pro-British faction in Northern Ireland, boycotted her inauguration. Her strong advocacy for a united Ireland is another factor: during her campaign, she called for a date to be set for a referendum on unity. This position is more assertive than any Irish government has taken in decades.
On one hand, Connolly is constrained by the limitations of the presidential office. On the other, she is propelled by an overwhelming electoral triumph. In her inaugural address at Dublin Castle, she maintained the same level of frankness as President as she did as a candidate—reaffirming her “powerful mandate to articulate [her voters’] vision for a new Republic,” and declaring that “the normalization of war and genocide has never been and will never be acceptable” to Ireland, a country with its own history of “catastrophic manmade famine and forced emigration.”
The broader Irish public would likely find little to dispute in those statements. However, observers overseas might hold differing opinions—a divergence that, in itself, is worth monitoring.
