Tag: politics

This is the core script I wrote and used in my recent MOONEY ON POLITICS podcast entitled: Irish government cannot Triple Lock its way out of its own capability crisis

Today I will consider (again) a debate that has generated more heat than light: the future of Ireland’s Triple Lock and how we decide when to send Irish troops overseas.

I argue for reform of the Triple Lock – not for scrapping all criteria. I will set may arguments in the real-world context of a Defence Force whose numbers and capabilities are faltering while investment still lags behind the rhetoric.

Because for all the talk about neutrality, mandates and vetoes, we risk ignoring a simple truth: it doesn’t matter what deployment mechanism you have on paper if you don’t have enough troops or equipment to deploy in practice.

What the Triple Lock Was Meant To Do

Let’s start with what the Triple Lock is, and what it was meant to do.

The Triple Lock is a domestic Irish rule: to send more than twelve armed Defence Forces personnel overseas you need three things – Government approval, Dáil approval, and a UN mandate.

The legal roots go back to the Defence Amendment Act of 1960, updated in 1993 and 2006, all built around a clear principle: Irish troops should serve abroad under a UN flag or in support of UN authority.

When Seán Lemass introduced the 1960 legislation, he described it as both a moral duty and a matter of national interest that Ireland should strengthen the influence and power of the United Nations.

That outlook was not naive idealism; it was a hard-headed decision to anchor Irish security and foreign policy in multilateralism rather than big-power blocs, and it has served us well for decades.

Our public pride in peacekeeping – from the Congo and Lebanon to Kosovo, Bosnia and Chad – rests on this sense that Irish troops go abroad under international authority to protect the vulnerable, not to advance anyone’s imperial agenda.

Why the Status Quo No Longer Works

So if the principle is sound, why am I arguing for reform?

Because the world we built the mechanism for no longer exists.

The Triple Lock depends on the UN Security Council actually creating peacekeeping missions – yet the Council has not authorised a single new peacekeeping operation since 2014.

That is not an obscure procedural issue; it is a structural failure of UN decision‑making, driven in large part by the use and abuse of the veto by permanent members, particularly Russia.

If your law insists that Irish deployments must be tied to new Security Council mandates, and the Security Council has stopped creating them, then your law is out of step with geopolitical reality.

The result is that what began as a principled commitment to the UN risks becoming empty symbolism – a domestic rule that references missions that are no longer being authorised.

Reform is needed. But – and this is crucial – reform does not mean tearing up the idea of clear international criteria and replacing it with: “Sure, the government will decide”.

Unfortunately, that is where the current government drafts fall down.

The proposed replacement criteria talk vaguely about “principles of the UN Charter” and “international law” but leave it to the government of the day to decide whether those criteria are met.

There is no requirement for a specific UN or OSCE resolution, no link to concrete multilateral decisions, and no obligation that deployments be in pursuance of agreed international mandates.

In plain terms, you are swapping an explicit multilateral test – a UN mandate – for a subjective political one – the opinion of ministers.

That is not responsible reform; it is an open invitation to politicise deployments and to slowly erode public trust in how and why we send troops overseas.

What Sensible Reform Could Look Like

So what would a sensible reform look like?

First, we should be honest about what must be preserved: the core idea that Irish deployments should be grounded in multilateral decisions and international law, not in the whims of any national government.

That means retaining the Government and Dáil “locks”, but coupling them to clearer and more modern criteria that reflect how the UN actually operates today.

Remember: even the 2006 Defence Act already recognised that the UN increasingly works through regional organisations; it defined an “International United Nations Force” as a force established, mandated, authorised, endorsed or supported by UN resolutions, not just traditional blue-helmet missions.

We can build on that approach instead of junking it.

One obvious route is to broaden the legal basis beyond the Security Council alone.

For example, deployment of more than twelve personnel under arms could be permitted where:

• There is either a Security Council resolution or a General Assembly resolution clearly supporting the mission; and
• The mission is led by the UN or by a regional organisation – the EU, OSCE, African Union or similar – acting explicitly in support of that UN decision.

In other words, we shift from saying “no mission without a new Security Council mandate” to saying “no mission without a clear UN‑anchored multilateral legal basis”, including General Assembly routes such as the “Uniting for Peace” mechanism.

You can then embed additional tests in legislation:

• That any deployment must be for peace support, crisis management or humanitarian purposes;
• That it must be consistent with Article 29 of the Constitution, with our commitment to peaceful resolution of disputes;
• That it has broad cross‑party support, expressed in an explicit Dáil resolution referring to the underlying UN or OSCE decision.

Done properly, that gives you a clearer, more flexible Triple Lock that reflects today’s UN realities, keeps Ireland tightly tied to multilateral authority, and avoids transforming deployments into narrow government‑versus‑opposition contests.

And that, in turn, protects the thing that really matters: public confidence in the integrity and legitimacy of Irish peacekeeping.

We should also be honest that this kind of reform cannot be rammed through on a narrow government majority.

If we want a framework that will last through future governments of different colours, it needs cross‑party consensus – government inviting and accepting opposition amendments, and the opposition accepting that some reform of the 1960 framework is necessary.

That is the grown‑up way to deal with deployment rules – by building a centre of gravity in the Oireachtas, not by running a culture war over “neutrality” versus “NATO”.

The UN, Ireland, and Trump’s Board of Peace

There is another dimension to this that we are not talking about nearly enough.

Ireland is contemplating writing explicit references to the United Nations out of our Defence Acts at exactly the moment when the UN itself is under intense political pressure from major powers, including from the current President of the United States, Donald Trump, through initiatives like his so‑called Board of Peace.

Think about the signal that sends.

For decades, Ireland has taken pride in being what John F. Kennedy once called “protector of the weak and voice of the small” at the UN, sending our best people “from Cork to the Congo, from Galway to the Gaza Strip” to do the work of peace.

Our legislation on overseas deployments has reflected that – Lemass’s generation deliberately hard‑wired the UN into our law as the international framework within which Irish troops would serve.

Now, at the very point when the rules‑based international order is under strain, when authoritarian governments and populist leaders are questioning or bypassing multilateral institutions, we are proposing to take the UN out of our own statute book and replace it with vague references to “principles”.

That is not just legally risky; it is strategically tone‑deaf.

If President Trump is pulling at the threads of multilateralism from one end – undermining the UN’s authority and sidelining it in favour of ad‑hoc, leader‑driven initiatives – it makes no sense for a small state like Ireland to start unpicking the UN thread from our end too.

Our comparative advantage is that we are seen as a principled, consistent multilateral actor: we get listened to not because we are big, but because we are reliable, we show up, and we play by the rules.

If we dilute the UN element in our own deployment law just as others are trying to hollow out the institution, we undercut that credibility and weaken our ability to rally other small and medium‑sized states to defend the UN system.

This should be the moment when Ireland doubles down on multilateralism – leading the push for Security Council reform, supporting General Assembly‑based workarounds to the veto, and visibly aligning our domestic law with UN processes – not the moment when we quietly edit the UN out of our statutes.

In that context, sensible Triple Lock reform is not about “escaping” the UN; it should be about proving that even when the Council is blocked, there are legal, democratic and multilateral ways for peacekeeping states like Ireland to stay anchored to the institution and to the wider rules‑based order.

The Missing Piece: Defence Capacity and Numbers

Up to now I’ve talked about law and mandates.

But there is a more awkward question that sits behind all of this: what exactly are we deploying?

Because while the political system obsesses over the Triple Lock, the Defence Forces themselves are struggling to maintain even their reduced strength and basic capabilities.

The temporary cut in establishment during the financial crisis – bringing the target strength to 9,500 – was made permanent in 2015, and even that reduced target has not been met for years.

More recently, analysis of official figures shows that by the end of 2024 Defence Forces strength had dropped to roughly 7,400 personnel, despite ambitious targets to grow to 11,500 by 2028 under the Commission on the Defence Forces’ Level of Ambition 2 plan.

That is not a system poised for bold new overseas commitments; it is a system in managed decline.

In 2023, some 750 personnel were discharged, while only 415 were inducted – a net loss that underlines the scale of the recruitment and retention crisis.

Even with the new joint induction centre at Gormanstown capable of training about 900 recruits per year when fully up and running, the maths is unforgiving: starting from around 7,400, you would need several years of sustained net gains just to get back to 9,500, never mind 11,500.

Capital spending is inching up – from about €175 million in 2024 to a planned €215 million in 2025 and €220 million in 2026 – but that is against the backdrop of almost a decade of under‑investment and long delivery timelines for key equipment like maritime patrol aircraft, helicopters, primary radar and naval assets.

Put bluntly, you cannot “Triple Lock” your way out of a capability hole.

The Defence Forces have already had to withdraw from missions, such as UNDOF on the Golan Heights, not because of a Russian veto but because we lacked the personnel and specialist capacity to sustain our overseas commitments.

And yet much of the political oxygen is still consumed by set‑piece rows about neutrality and deployment mechanisms, while the actual crisis – human, organisational and material – continues.

Bringing It Together: Reform the Rules, Fix the Defence Forces

So where does that leave us on the Triple Lock?

First, we should reject two lazy extremes.

On one side, the idea that nothing should change – that we can cling forever to a Security Council‑centric mandate system in a world where the Council is gridlocked – is not credible.

On the other, the notion that we simply scrap the UN element, rely on Government and Dáil votes, and trust the “principles” box‑ticking, is equally unacceptable.

That road leads to deployments decided on narrow majorities and partisan whipping, with the legal test reduced to whether the government of the day says “yes, it’s fine”.

Instead, we should pursue a middle course:

• Keep the spirit of the Triple Lock – international mandate, Government approval, Dáil approval – but update the mandate element to reflect General Assembly routes and UN‑backed regional missions;
• Put the criteria in the legislation, not just in ministerial speeches – tying any deployment to explicit UN or OSCE resolutions and to clearly defined purposes: peace support, crisis management, humanitarian relief;
• Build cross‑party buy‑in so that the framework is robust enough to survive changes of government and to carry public confidence.

But we must do that while telling the public the whole truth.

Reforming the Triple Lock will not magic up an extra battalion of trained soldiers, a functioning naval fleet or a radar system that can see who is in our skies.

To reach even the government’s own Level of Ambition 2 target, we need to recruit on the order of 1,800 personnel per year over several years and, crucially, retain more of those already serving.

We need sustained capital investment now – not just promises for the end of the decade – to secure maritime patrol aircraft, helicopters, primary radar, naval vessels and cyber capabilities at a time when global demand is pushing prices up.

And we need to fix the politics around defence – appointing a dedicated Minister for Defence with the clout to challenge the reflexive “no” of the Department of Finance, and embedding defence policy inside parties, not just in once‑off consultative forums and TV debates.

If we do these things together – modernise the deployment criteria and rebuild the Defence Forces – then Ireland can continue to be what it has been at its best: a small state that uses its troops, not as an instrument of adventurism, but as a trusted, principled contributor to peace operations grounded in international law.

That is not about abandoning neutrality; it is about practising what we preach – a neutrality with responsibility, where we can defend our own territory, support our European partners, and still insist that Irish troops serve only under clear and legitimate multilateral authority.

In conclusion:

So, when you hear the next row about the Triple Lock, listen out for three questions.

First: does the proposal keep a real, not rhetorical, link to UN and multilateral authority?

Second: are we strengthening or weakening the UN at a time when powerful actors are already trying to sideline it?

And third: what is being done about actual Defence Forces strength and capability – the numbers, the equipment, the pay and conditions – that will decide whether any deployment is possible at all?

Reforming the Triple Lock is necessary, but it is not sufficient.

We can – and should – design a clearer, more honest framework for deployments and, at the same time, finally invest in a Defence Force worthy of the men and women who serve in it and of the public pride in Ireland’s peacekeeping record.

Thanks for reading. If you’ve thoughts on this, and have a perspective on the Triple Lock debate, I’d love to hear from you.