The electoral dominance of a single unionist party has come to an end. As a republican I welcome the demise of any political monopoly on power. Yet there is a flipside to this development that many who aspire to Irish unity, including those who profess a commitment to an Irish republic, appear reluctant to confront.
It is now time to throw a few fragmentation grenades into the discourse.
Political unionism may be fragmenting, its traditional parties increasingly divided and competing for an electorate that no longer displays the unquestioning loyalty of previous generations, but this should not be mistaken for a corresponding decline in support for the Union. Nor, more importantly, has it translated into any sustained increase in support for Irish unity since the signing of the Good Friday Agreement in 1998.
And therein lies an awkward political reality that constitutional nationalism and republicanism alike have yet to acknowledge. Almost three decades after the Good Friday Agreement, the erosion of unionist electoral hegemony and the emergence of Sinn Féin as the largest party in the North have failed to produce a demonstrable majority in favour of Irish unity. The political balance between parties has shifted considerably, but the constitutional position remains unchanged.
The fragmentation of political unionism may provide some understandable satisfaction to those old enough to remember the horrors of its former dominance, but mistaking the electoral decline of unionist parties with the constitutional decline of the Union is a dangerous exercise in political self-deception.
Political unionism seems incapable of doing anything other than plucking defeat from the jaws of victory. By reigniting the Drumcree debacle in 2026, Unionism has provided Sinn Féin with an unexpected political lifeline. At a time when the party's electoral fortunes appeared to be waning, unionism has managed to breathe renewed vitality and optimism into its principal political opponent, restoring something of Sinn Féin's standing within the Catholic, nationalist and republican community.
There can be little doubt that Michelle O'Neill is now well placed to return as First Minister following the May 2027 Assembly election, assuming, of course, that the Executive survives that long. And, remarkably, she probably has Jamie Bryson to thank for helping to reinvigorate her party during a period of political stagnation.
Indeed, when the history of the North is eventually written, I would not be in the least surprised to discover, in some wonderfully improbable twist of political satire, that Jamie had been recruited by the IRA as a sleeper agent. His extraordinary knack for leading unionism into one gut-reaction political cul-de-sac after another is astonishing. Were he deliberately attempting to advance Sinn Féin's electoral fortunes, it is difficult to imagine how he could be any more effective.
The ultimate irony, however, is that while Bryson and his fellow travellers may be doing Sinn Féin's electoral work for it, Sinn Féin itself is doing precious little to advance the cause of Irish unity. The electoral fortunes of Sinn Féin and the constitutional future of the North remain two very different questions; however enthusiastically constitutional republicans might wish to conflate them.
The Westminster Retreat
Sinn Féin's decision to run several of its Westminster MPs as candidates in the 2027 Assembly election is, in my view, indicative of two significant developments within the party.
Firstly, there appears to be a belated recognition that dispatching some of its supposed political heavyweights to the Palace of Westminster has achieved precious little beyond securing the much-coveted financial resources. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, it suggests an emerging appreciation that the political battleground upon which any future border poll will be won or lost is not Westminster, Dublin or the international diplomatic circuit, but the North itself.
Despite the triumphant rhetoric surrounding Michelle O'Neill's elevation to First Minister, Sinn Féin's first period as the largest party in the Executive has been characterised by a conspicuous absence of political ambition or achievement.
I am told that an internal party review reached a similarly embarrassing conclusion, recognising both the limited political return from its Westminster operation and the increasingly obvious shortage of political talent within its Assembly team.
If that account is accurate, the decision to redeploy experienced Westminster figures to Stormont is more than routine electoral manoeuvring. It amounts to an acknowledgement that the party's much-celebrated electoral success has not been matched by its performance in governing the North.
Those shortcomings have been painfully apparent. The spectacle of Sinn Féin ministers and MLAs being routinely wrong-footed by the likes of Phillip Brett, Jonathan Buckley and Timothy Gaston has hardly inspired confidence in a party that presents itself as the government-in-waiting in the South.
Whatever one's view of their politics, these otherwise underwhelming unionist representatives have demonstrated an ability to interrogate policy, expose inconsistencies and exploit the weaknesses of their partners in government, who frequently appear ill-equipped and unable to respond.
Similarly, the excruciatingly painful performance of Sinn Féin's Assembly team has exposed a glaring absence of political talent. Its MLAs appear incapable of dissecting legislation, articulating coherent positions or subjecting political opponents to any meaningful scrutiny.
These shortcomings have been equally apparent among the party's ministers, where crude political messaging has too often been substituted for competence, and the ability to repeat a carefully rehearsed party position has been mistaken for the capacity to defend it.
These weaknesses have not gone unnoticed by the SDLP opposition under the leadership of Matthew O'Toole at Stormont. O'Toole has repeatedly demonstrated the value of detailed policy knowledge, effective scrutiny and the ability to construct an argument that extends beyond the familiar sectarian slogans.
In doing so, O'Toole has exposed one of Sinn Féin's fundamental weaknesses: electoral dominance does not automatically confer political competence, and holding the office of First Minister is no substitute for effective political ambition.
Making History, But to What End?
Sinn Féin has spent almost three decades confusing the acquisition of political office with the advancement of its once-republican objective.
Its core electoral message has scarcely evolved over 30 years. From its earliest electoral breakthroughs to its most recent campaigns, the appeal to voters remains essentially the same: make history by voting for Sinn Féin. Vote for us or you will get them. Yet surely the more pertinent question is not whether voting for Sinn Féin will make history, but what difference it will actually make.
When Chris Hazzard launched his Strangford campaign in the salubrious surroundings of the Montalto Estate, and when Sinn Féin unveiled its four for West Belfast campaign in the publicly funded Ionad Eileen Howell, the well-worn electoral battle cry of making history was once again centre stage.
Consider Hazzard's candidacy in Strangford. If elected, what would he actually do differently from the incumbent Alliance Party MLA he hopes to displace? What distinctive policies would he advance, what improvements in public services would he deliver, and how would his election bring the achievement of an Irish Republic any closer?
Similarly, returning four Sinn Féin MLAs in West Belfast would have precisely the same impact on the endemic child poverty, housing stress and unemployment that have plagued the constituency for generations as their previous electoral victories have had. Strip away the symbolism, the party branding and the bullshit historical rhetoric, and the answer is apparent: none whatsoever.
Sinn Féin has become extraordinarily adept at presenting its own electoral advancement as a historic achievement in itself, and the electorate has, for now, bought into that premise. But the time will surely come when the party is asked to explain what tangible political or social change that advancement has actually delivered. Winning another seat, securing another ministry or returning another First Minister has become both the means and the end of its political strategy.
The electorate is no longer being asked to endorse a programme of fundamental societal transformation, but merely to participate in the continued electoral advancement of Sinn Féin, with the vague assurance that history is somehow being made in the process.
The Constitutional Reckoning
Ultimately, the fragmentation of political unionism and the electoral resurgence of Sinn Féin should not obscure the central political reality that neither bloc appears particularly capable of confronting.
Unionism, despite its seemingly limitless capacity for political self-destruction, continues to defend a constitutional position that retains the majority of public support. It has time to regroup, realign and discover a new generation of political leadership, even if that leadership eventually emerges across two or three parties. Unionism can continue to lose elections, surrender its political dominance and humiliate itself in one entirely avoidable confrontation after another, yet still retain the Union.
Sinn Féin, meanwhile, does not have the same luxury of time. Having mastered the art of winning elections, it must now demonstrate that those victories can deliver the political change it has promised. The electorate in the North is politically astute, but it is also fickle, and electoral loyalty cannot be taken for granted indefinitely.
For all the triumphalism surrounding Michelle O'Neill's elevation to First Minister, the electoral arithmetic and the feverish rhetoric about an imminent border poll, Sinn Féin has failed to deliver any fundamental political change.
Jamie Bryson may yet prove to have contributed more to Sinn Féin's electoral fortunes than some of its own strategists, but what Bryson appears to overlook is that unionism can afford to squander political power while its constitutional objective remains secure.
There is, however, a mirror that Sinn Féin seems equally unwilling to look into. Just as Bryson's antics may have helped reinvigorate the party's electoral fortunes, Sinn Féin's own conduct at Drumcree, its belligerence in the aftermath and its apparent disregard for the institutions of the state, the rule of law and the police service it has pledged to support may yet have unintended electoral consequences.
The danger for Sinn Féin is that its behaviour could provide the catalyst needed to draw the long-dormant garden-centre unionist back into the electoral fray. A section of the electorate that has grown weary of unionism's endless internal quarrels may discover a renewed political motivation, not through any great affection for the traditional unionist parties, but through opposition to Sinn Féin's conduct.
Sinn Féin cannot afford to squander the opportunities presented by unionism's self-inflicted decline, yet that is precisely what it has done. It has turned unionist political incompetence into Sinn Féin electoral success, without translating that success into transformational societal change.
Having spent decades promising to end British rule in Ireland, Sinn Féin has instead found itself with little option but to administer it. Whether the party has chosen to administer it badly, or simply lacks the competence to do otherwise, is a question worth asking.
⏩Muiris Ó Súilleabháin was a member of the Republican Movement until he retired in 2006 after 20 years of service. Fiche bhliain ag fás.
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