On the canvass with Saoirse McHugh: A threat to the old school patriarchy of Irish politics
MEP candidate Saoirse McHugh and Colm Cafferkey chat with Salthill resident Pearl Finn. Pictures: Ray Ryan
In the spirit of profiling candidates for high office, it is imperative to begin a piece such as this by stating the contender in question — independent Saoirse McHugh in this instance — is “in” something. But what? “In a hurry” is always a good one, especially when the candidate is young and fiery and unburdened by legacy trauma, which, for the most part, McHugh is. But that does no justice to her.Â
“In a pickle” suggests a politician who has perhaps overstepped, underperformed, or failed to declare a vested interest in any number of things. Again, not McHugh. Her emancipation from the Green Party four years ago may have cost her the logistical and financial support this campaign could have badly done with, but it also suits her agenda.Â
“In over her head” fails to account for her previous campaign experience, as well as her considerable subject matter expertise on the environment. No, McHugh is not “in” any of these things. What she most definitely is, however, is indifferent to what you think of her, which is arguably the most counterintuitive trait imaginable for somebody looking for votes for election to the European Parliament.
We meet in Salthill, not long after her appearance on on RTÉ Radio One, where Sarah McInerney grilled her and four other candidates from the Midlands North-West constituency on their suitability for Brussels. I ask her how it went, and she immediately makes a screwed-up face.
“Ah, only alright,” she says, referring to an answer she gave regarding the entry requirements into the country, and whether somebody could do so with or without documentation. “I meant that they could, and then enter, then claim aslyum, but Sarah is good, and I got schooled. It’s okay. It’s all part of it.”Â
And so she begins an evening of canvassing, going door to door, trying — in her own unique way — to convince the electorate the environment, sustainable food, clean water, public transport, these are issues that — far from going away — are becoming more and more important.
A native of Achill Island, McHugh has been an environmentalist for as long as she can remember. Throughout her life she has worked on agricultural projects around the world, volunteered with environmental NGOs and completed a masters in sustainable agriculture.Â
Frustrated with a lack of progress on environmental issues, she ran for the Green Party in the European and general elections in 2019 and 2020, nearly succeeding on both occasions. A remarkable enough feat for a political novice in such tightly contested constituencies.Â
Although unsuccessful, her vision for a just and ecologically sound society has earned her widespread support, and her willingness to put the old political establishment in its place, as it were, was a breath of fresh air.
She quit the Green Party after they went into Government in 2020. At the time, she said the Programme for Government that had been negotiated and later backed by a majority of Green members was a “terrible document”.

This time around, she is going it alone. Well, not completely alone. Her soon-to-be-husband Colm Cafferky diligently supports her, managing her campaign, and on this early summer evening, knocking on every second door, politely yet passionately spreading McHugh’s message.
“The difference between now and five years ago regarding where people see the environment on their list of priorities is scary,” McHugh laments, citing the chaotic five years since as the reason many have lost focus on what most experts regard to be the greatest existential threat to the planet.
“Covid, vaccines, immigration. A lot has happened, and that’s what we are facing on the doorsteps. I see Facebook especially as a huge issue in terms of where so many people are getting their information. You don’t have much time to talk them around at the door, but in a lot of cases you can.
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On the doorstep, McHugh is assured, personable but unapologetic. Another trait which flies in the face of the stereotypical overpromising, underperforming politician. If she hears something she disagrees with — on immigration, say — she politely listens, before offering a direct, astutely constructed rebuke.
This year's campaign gained a lot of publicity for her recent spats with fellow candidates Peter Casey and Barry Cowen. On last week's live debate on , McHugh announced herself with a now trademark series of put-downs of fellow independent Casey, lightning quick to call the controversial independent out when said he had been a migrant in three different countries legally. "Didn’t you tweet last year that you entered a country illegally?" she asked.
"Don’t be silly," he replied, despite the fact she was right. The tweet from 2023 was found and reposted almost instantaneously by viewers, proving Casey had indeed said that.
She later lit up X by saying to Casey "You're a clown, would ya stop! Peace is what will keep us safe” in response to his persistent interruptions of her answers.

Highlighting these exchanges annoys McHugh, as she feels it detracts from her platform as an environmental campaigner. What it does do, however, is amplify what an outlier McHugh is. A threat, perhaps, to the old-school patriarchy of Irish politics. If she does revel in her role as disruptor extraordinaire, she hides it well.
“I’ve no interest in it, honestly. People want to make a thing of it, but all I’m doing in those moments is responding to what's said to me.”Â
In Salthill, things are much more tranquil. The canvas is what Cafferky describes as “fairly typical”. Some unanswered knocks, some hysterical pets, spinning around at the window, and at least one 21-year-old young fella claiming to be only 17, therefore too young to vote.
Those who do answer are willing to engage. Some recognise McHugh, others do not. All are curious. There is some talk of chemtrails (from the constituents, not the candidate). Some mention of Palestine. Bizarrely, there’s even some conversation about the influx of young, handsome, muscular men into the country (the inference being they are too healthy and well fed to be seeking refuge here in Ireland).
At each stop, McHugh pushes her environmental agenda.
One elderly chap, sceptical about McHugh’s passion for improved public transport as a sustainable alternative, quipped: “Sorry now, but I don’t think I’ll live to see that.”Â
 “No,” responded the candidate, “but I might.”Â
 “I know who you are,” says another lady, and for one dreadful moment, I hold my breath, thinking her greeting was an accusation. I needn’t have worried.
“I’ll be voting for you. And I’ll be telling my friends to vote for you as well.”Â
The two talk while Cafferky chats easily about the struggles of running a campaign that brings the pair to Portlaoise, Dundalk, and Donegal.
“We wouldn’t be doing it if we thought we didn’t believe we could make a difference.”Â
 “I wish they were all like her,” McHugh says, closing the gate behind her.
I linger, catching the woman before she shuts her front door.
“Do you mind me asking you why you’re voting for her?” She considers the question, a little taken aback.
“Because I believe her,” she says. “I’ve listened to her talk. I’ve heard what she has to say. She is authentic.”Â
An rud Is annamh is iontach.




