Comedy or tragedy? The absurdity of election season

As an Irish person living in the Netherlands, the last few weeks have been somewhat interesting, at least politically speaking. Mainly because both Ireland and the Netherlands have undergone elections this past month. Although these two elections have been quite different (Ireland voted on who will succeed our sweet and dog-loving president, whereas the Netherlands tried to salvage its Titanic-esque wreck of a government), they were united by a common theme: absurdity. As I’m writing this on Dutch election night (hello future reader – never mind, I’m scared to ask), it’s the perfect time to reflect on how something as important as an election can resemble a night at a dreadful comedy gig. 

Unfortunately, I couldn’t vote in either of these two elections. It’s not the best feeling when someone asks “Do you know who you’re voting for yet?” and you have to remind them (with a sad grimace, of course) that either (a) you won’t be in the country on that day or (b) you are not a Dutch national and therefore can’t vote in general elections. On top of that, there is also the slight existential worry that you have less power in the world without that ballot paper and little pencil clasped in your hand on voting day. So, instead of dwelling in democracy FOMO, I did what any sensible person would do, and grabbed the popcorn instead.

Let’s start with the Irish election. Originally, there were three candidates (thankfully, in the end, none of them were Conor McGregor - and no, I’m not joking, this was an actual possibility), one of whom dropped out after a financial embarrassment was leaked to the media. The remaining two runners consisted of a left-wing independent candidate who wowed the internet in a series of videos showing her prowess at keepie uppies, whereas the other was a centrist who defended fox-hunting and had a campaign video that mistook Berlin for Belfast. No prizes for guessing who won (hint: those keepie uppies were very effective).

And then there’s the Dutch election. Most of my understanding of this campaign comes from Arjen Lubach, whose regular Campagnecarrousel segment on his TV show was incredibly educational. How else would I have known that Geert Wilders and Dilan Yeşilgöz are at their ugliest when they play Mario Kart together, or that the BBB party tried to woo voters with AI-generated music videos? Cynics may argue that this kind of information is irrelevant, but I personally would want to know that if Geert Wilders regularly plays Mario Kart – who knows, poor Mario could be next on his deportation list.

Jokes aside, elections should, of course, be taken seriously. But this doesn’t mean that we can’t acknowledge their absurdity. Like it or not, we are all spectators of this tragic comedy – if you don’t laugh, you will cry.