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to the fact that Gerry Adams is such a highly-controversial figure. The scenario prior to the formation of the first inter-party government in 1948 has been evoked in this context.1 On that occasion, the leader of the biggest party in the preliminary negotiations was totally unacceptable to others at the table. Richard Mulcahy was head of Fine Gael, but his role in the ruthless Civil War executions of anti-Treaty republicans ruled him out as taoiseach. The main opponents of such a move were Clann na Poblachta (Family/Children of the Republic). Many of its activists were former IRA members, and party leader Seán MacBride had been IRA chief of staff in the 1930s. The issue was resolved when Fine Gael proposed John A. Costello, a prominent Dublin barrister and professional colleague of MacBride’s, to head up the new government, although Mulcahy retained the title of party leader. There is, of course, a considerable difference between the political outlook held by Richard Mulcahy and the worldview of Gerry Adams. Yet the theory goes that, just as the Fine Gael leader had to take a step back, so would Adams need to temper any ambitions he might have. Mulcahy got the job of Minister for Education as a consolation prize in 1948 and some have suggested that, given his interest in the Irish language, the portfolio of Arts, Heritage and the Gaeltacht might be suitable for Adams. It is, of course, a highly-speculative scenario. Alternatively, Adams might emulate MacBride by taking over Foreign Affairs, a post in which he would revel, though it would cause flutterings and maybe panic attacks in some of the chancelleries of Europe.

      Sinn Féin is admittedly very loyal to Adams, and would have great difficulty in accepting that he was somehow ineligible for the office of taoiseach or tánaiste. Who knows, though, what might happen in what were called the ‘smoke-filled rooms’ – before the tobacco-in the-workplace ban, that is. Of course, there is no guarantee at time of writing that the party will be ‘in the mix’ when the next government, or indeed its successor, is being formed. Quite apart from government positions, there has been endless speculation about McDonald as the most likely contender to take over from Adams as Sinn Féin leader. It is virtually de rigueur for any media profile of the deputy leader to dwell at some length on the prospect of her taking the top job in the party.

      The ‘Backroom’ column in the Sunday Business Post put it in the following colourful terms: ‘Just as Micheál Martin is a human reminder to potential Fianna Fáil voters of the [Brian]Cowen years, so too Gerry Adams is a human reminder to potential Sinn Féin voters of the dark days of the IRA. Maybe it’s time the party thought of replacing the ‘Big Bad Wolf ’ at its head with Mary Lou. It could make the difference between Sinn Féin getting into the next government and, dare we say it, leading the next government [emphasis added].’2 At any large Sinn Féin gathering, the 2015 ardfheis in Derry or the Easter Rising commemorative parade in Dublin in April 2015, for example, it is very obvious that, while the party has drawn an impressive level of support from young working-class males, it badly needs to broaden its appeal. McDonald’s presence in the leadership – despite one observer noting that ‘her south county lilt is overlaid with a hint of a Dub drawl – is made into a greater asset by virtue of her being a woman from a middle-class background.3

      Journalist Harry McGee has written that, given the symbolism of the 1916 Centenary, Adams will undoubtedly lead Sinn Féin into the next election, which is due to take place by April 2016 at the latest. Assessing Mary Lou’s prospects after that, McGee wrote: ‘There are few politicians who impress TDs from rival parties more than McDonald. She is a great communicator, authoritative and focused, though at times too obdurate. She can sometimes be caught out on detail. McDonald is deputy leader, a woman, who is also well-got with the party’s key leaders in Northern Ireland. That makes her the front-runner.’4

      When asked, in an interview for this book, if she saw herself going for the leadership within the next five years, McDonald replied: ‘I wouldn’t put a precise time-frame on any of this, but I have said externally and internally that, as and when the vacancy arises, I am interested. I mean, unless I radically change my mind in the intervening period’. She went on to stress, however, that she had no wish to see Adams stepping down:

      No, I am not in any hurry. I think Gerry has proven his worth again and again and again and, despite what his detractors say, the facts are that the party has been built, our support has been built, strongly, north and south, under his stewardship. He would be the first to tell you that he didn’t do it on his own; it is a collective leadership. You have Martin McGuinness in the mix, you know, a whole range of different characters.

      When asked if she would be putting Adams under any pressure to go, she replied: ‘Oh God no, absolutely not.’5 Her answer was similar to the one she gave Alex Kane in the Belfast Telegraph, when he asked her if she wanted the job: ‘Not in the short term, but I wouldn’t rule it out in the longer term. It’s not something I’m concerned with now, but at some stage, if there were a vacancy, I would certainly consider it.’6

      Other names mentioned for the leadership include: Donegal TD Pearse Doherty, who is the party’s finance spokesman; former MP for Newry and Armagh and one-time republican prisoner, Conor Murphy; and the North’s Education Minister, John O’Dowd. However, observers believe that McDonald is the chosen one, and that the succession will take place at a time that is deemed appropriate. In or out of government, and whether or not she succeeds Adams as Sinn Féin leader, there is little doubt that McDonald will continue to be a significant figure in Irish politics for years to come.

      So who is she, and what is her background? How did someone considered to have been born with the metaphorical silver spoon in her mouth and a well-lit pathway into the professional classes end up as deputy leader to a band of self-proclaimed revolutionaries? Born on May Day 1969 in Dublin’s Holles Street hospital, McDonald grew up in the leafy suburb of Rathgar. The family home was at Eaton Brae, a quiet enclave off Orwell Road, and close to the impressive property that houses the Russian – formerly Soviet – Embassy. A family friend says that, despite the location, her circumstances were by no means luxurious.

      In an interview for a very interesting book in 2008, about politicians whose first name is Mary, she told former MEP for Fine Gael Mary Banotti that she was originally meant to be called Avril, as she was due to arrive in April. Though christened Mary Louise, this was quickly shortened to Mary Lou: ‘When I was a child I would very rarely be called Mary Louise unless I got into trouble. When the voice was raised and I got my full title I knew that I had crossed some line.’7 The classic Ricky Nelson pop-song Hello Mary Lou (Goodbye Heart) became one of her pet hates, though her canvassers in the Dáil constituency of Dublin Central consider it an asset. She herself wrote after the 2011 general election: ‘The song filled the Cabra air and echoed throughout the north inner city. A group of women jived to it on Sheriff Street, proof-positive according to one activist that the song was a vote-getter. I sincerely doubt it.’8

      Most profiles of Mary Lou describe her father Patrick McDonald as a surveyor, but when interviewed for this book, she pointed out that ‘building contractor’ was the correct description. Like so many people from the building trade, he joined Fianna Fáil. Her mother, Joan, was also a member of that party ‘for a short while’, she recalls: ‘When we were growing up, she’d be the kind of person who’d be writing letters to prisoners of conscience. She’d be into Amnesty International and she was very involved in the Burma Action Group. As much as she would have a view on domestic politics, my mother would always have had a broader political sense of things.’ The biggest role in shaping the young Mary Lou’s outlook, however, was apparently played by her maternal grandmother, Molly, whom she describes in the Banotti interview as ‘very political in her thinking, very nationalist, very old-style republican.’ Interviewed for the present book, McDonald said: ‘She died some years ago and I miss her. She was a big influence on me.’9

      Despite the dreams and desires of socialists and Marxists over many generations, the historic dividing-line in the politics of the Republic of Ireland was not class, but what side your forebears had taken in the Civil War. That awful conflict erupted over the terms of the Anglo-Irish Treaty of 1921, and ultimately gave birth to Fianna Fáil and Fine Gael, as well as hardening the stance of Sinn Féin on the militant fringe.A brother of Molly’s (and grand-uncle to Mary Lou), James O’Connor from Bansha, County Tipperary, took part in the War of Independence and later sided with those who opposed the Treaty and the Irish Free State that arose out of it. On 13 December 1922, as civil

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