Léitheoir: ‘Speaking My Mind' by Leo Varadkar reviewed

I have always tended to believe that politicians’ autobiographies are more about self-justification than historical accuracy; and

I have always been persuaded by former UK Labour leader, Michael Foot’s, observation that: “A political memoir is the last refuge of a politician who has run out of applause.”

With such thoughts in mind, I turned to the recently published Speaking My Mind, by Leo Varadkar. The title, Speaking My Mind suggests that unrestrained revelations might be contained within the book’s four hundred pages, and that the author intends to reveal all in a spirit of settling scores? Might the memoir be along the lines of Father Ted’s speech on receiving the Golden Cleric award:

“And now, we move on to liars. Those people who cheated me, lied to me — you know who you are! Well, I’ve got a list of names here. You all said I’d never make it, that I was a loser! Well, I think you’re the losers now!”

No, not really - although there are occasional barbs seeded throughout the text -and the epithet “far left’ is often applied to political opponents who are not members of Fianna Fáil or Fine Gael – but, on the whole, the book is a straightforward chronological account of Leo Varadker’s early entry into Irish politics, his rise to the very pinnacle of public life, and his sudden departure from the role of Taoiseach in 2024 at the age of 45.

The book has received a mixed reception since its publication.

It has been praised for its accessibility, as an interesting and entertaining narrative, which presents a useful chronicle of the most prominent political developments which occurred during Varadkar’s political career and his role in relation to them. The financial crash of 2008, the collapse in house prices, the IMF bail-out programme, Ireland’s exit from the bail-out in 2013; the abortion referendum, the marriage equality poll, the tortuous negotiations around Brexit, and dealing with Boris Johnson; Covid, and the very difficult decisions required in dealing with the pandemic, are recounted with constant focus on the stresses and pressures involved in dealing with such major crises, and a behind-the-scenes account of the human and emotional costs of such decision-making.

Many readers will find the sections describing Varadkar’s decision to make public his status as a gay man, and his relationship with his partner, Matt, to be honest and authentic, and his pride in his Indian heritage is persuasively conveyed.

Varadkar is also consistently candid about his extraordinary self-belief and ambition. In the engaging introductory chapters, he describes his childhood as the son of an Indian doctor and an Irish nurse, and his fascination, indeed obsession, with politics.

He writes,” From an early age I had dreamed of going to Áras an Uachtaráin to receive my seal of office from the President and later holding my first cabinet meeting there as Taoiseach.”

(I was reminded of the opening lines of the film Goodfellas:” As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster.”)

He confesses that his setting out on his political career by standing for council elections at the age of twenty was “a matter of both ego and altruism.” As a newly appointed TD in 2007, aged twenty-eight, he relates that he was very determined to become a cabinet minister, then Taoiseach. He says of his first front bench meeting: “I was cocky and let it show. I was completely without self-doubt; people found me arrogant and insensitive.”

Throughout the book, this ‘messiah complex’ and his self-confidence is a recurrent theme. Referring to the Brexit negotiations, he displays yet again his disdain for false modesty: “History was being made, and I was at the centre of it. I was, I felt, the right person in the right job at the right time.”

After a set of poor election results for Fine Gael in 2014, Varadkar records that he was well up for discussing in “discreet conversations” the prospect of replacing Enda Kenny but was mindful that he had a lot to lose by showing his hand. This sort of revelation shows that political life was characterised by endless intrigue, with rumours and counter-rumours and ambitious politicians constantly vying for advantage and advances.

Speaking My Mind reveals how Varadkar was extremely adept at surviving and indeed excelling in this rather toxic environment, where it was essential to be ever mindful of the optics, and to avoid gaffes. The many examples of the constant anxiety generated by such an environment are a fascinating feature of the book.

Indeed, Varadkar attributes his surprising decision to step down as Taoiseach to this constant inability to relax and escape perpetual scrutiny: “I didn’t love the job anymore. Every day I was a little more Taoiseach and a little less me.”

Where the autobiography is disappointing is in its lack of any serious analysis of the political context of his leadership, and some critics have disparaged what they perceive as a prevailing tone of smugness and self-congratulation. The historian Diarmuid Ferriter described the book as “jaunty and superficial.”

Nevertheless, despite the inevitable self-justifying tone which is typical of the genre, it is an engaging and interesting overview of a very eventful period of our recent history and worth reading for that reason.

‘Speaking My Mind: The revealing autobiography from an unlikely and singular Irish prime minister’ is published by Penguin Books and costs £25.00.