Election day in Ireland is a month away. So the major presidential candidates appeared this week at the National Ploughing Championships, the equivalent of going to the Iowa State Fair to bolster bumpkin bona fides. Jim Gavin, who parlayed his role as the manager of Dublin’s dynastic football squad (six All-Ireland championships) into being nominated to represent Fianna Fáil, and Fine Gael’s nominee, career public servant and serial peacenik Heather Humphreys, mingled with spectators at such quaint activities as sheep shearing, horse ploughing, and–how Gael is this?—brown bread baking.
Conor McGregor wasn’t among the minglers. The MMA has-been, whose rape cases and hate-based political campaign have brought him more attention over the past two years than all other presidential candidates combined, bowed out earlier this week. He announced his withdrawal from the race in a rambling middle-of-the-night tweet, in which he blamed shadowy unnamed forces for keeping him from higher office, and made sure to praise his own efforts to turn Ireland into a much meaner place.
“In a very short period, I have catalysed a mobilisation for positive change in Ireland against a malevolent political witch-hunt working together with the mainstream media supercharged Fake News,” McGregor wrote. “There is now a very visible and vocal movement of Irish Patriots reverting to our cultural and historical origins seeking
to maintain and protect our way of life as Irish – to them I salute you.”
(Inexplicable line break his.)
McGregor’s combat sports career had already been in the toilet for years when he declared his intention to run for office in late 2023. He’d posted one UFC win since 2016, and hadn’t fought at all since getting KO’d in 2021. He pulled out of his much anticipated comeback fight in 2024, citing a hurt toe. (Given that he said he’d need a “few weeks” to be ready to fight, but never made the comeback, it’s likely a hurt toe had nothing to do with the cancelation.) But McGregor likes seeing his name in the newspaper. He realized at some point that after his fighting skills abandoned him, being publicly hateful would get him scads of notice. He positioned himself as a leader of an anti-immigrant push in Ireland that he dubbed “Ireland Protect,” and became a figurehead for a movement that used slogans like “Ireland is full," and “Ireland belongs to the Irish.”
Ireland, of course, is not full. The country has historically had serious emigration problems: As of 2024, the island’s population was still about a million residents short of what it was in 1841, before the British-imposed famine and its related exodus. And it’s been welcoming to immigrants. On a per capita basis, Ireland was a leader among European nations when it came to taking in Ukrainian refugees after the Russian onslaught. Being a small-minded cad, McGregor exploited the downtrodden newcomers for publicity.
His worst display came in late 2023, following a mass stabbing in downtown Dublin in which three kids and their caretaker were injured and the alleged perpetrator was born in Algeria (the criminal case is still in the courts). McGregor blamed the tragedy on Ireland’s immigration policy. Riots took place in the capital city after the stabbings, and Irish officials cited the failed fighter’s social media proclamations, including “Ireland, we are at war,” while accusing McGregor of fomenting the violence.
The great Dublin writer Fintan O’Toole wrote a story in the Irish Times after the riots saying McGregor “occupies a similar space now to the one Trump inhabited before 2015: immensely famous, with a fervent fan base, a persona forged in cod-gladiatorial show business, a genius for personal branding and a toxic narcissism that is the political style of our times.”
In fact, McGregor officially announced his candidacy after taking a meeting with President Trump at the White House on St. Patrick’s Day. But his campaign was only mocked and derided by politicians in his homeland. To get on the ballot, McGregor needed to get the backing of at least 20 of the 234 members of Oireachtas, Ireland’s parliament, or from leaders of four county or city boards. He never came close to getting the required support.
Following his summit with Trump, Sky News polled Oireachtas members and asked if they would support McGregor’s candidacy. All of the 134 who responded said no.
“Comments ranged from ‘not a hope in hell’ to ‘I could not think of anyone more unfit’ and "I would genuinely rather we didn't have a president at all,” read Sky’s report on its polling. “None chose the ‘maybe’ option.”
McGregor’s withdrawal announcement this week came mere hours before he was scheduled to appear at public hearings in Dublin where he likely would have received official word that his name wouldn’t be on the ballot. His pull-out tweet said he would instead stay in America, where he’d traveled “to rightfully commemorate the tragic terror attacks of 9/11 and discuss my aspirations for Ireland with the US Administration.”
McGregor immediately got back to campaigning for a spot on next year’s planned UFC card at the White House to commemorate the 250th and from the looks of things possibly last anniversary of our republic. He spent yesterday asking the Supreme Court of Ireland to hear an appeal of his rape case verdict.
The remaining presidential candidates, meanwhile, got to watch the finals of the National Brown Bread Competition. Maureen Igoe of Bonniconlon, County Mayo, took the bakeoff.
While accepting the accompanying €5,000 prize, Igoe was asked if a secret ingredient led to her win. "I definitely think a drop or two of Guinness and a spoonful of treacle makes the difference," Igoe said.
