Gangland figure's anti-immigrant campaign signals extremism entering Irish political mainstream

Elaine Roe works in a cafe in north Dublin. She is sixty-one years old. When asked what matters most in this week's byelection for her constituency, she does not hesitate. The government is destroying the country, she says. They are bringing in rapists and murderers and kidnappers. She might vote for Gerry Hutch. He seems like a normal person.

Hutch is sixty-three. He spent time in prison for robbery when he was younger. For decades he has been a known figure in Dublin's criminal underworld—a court once named him as the leader of an organized crime group, and he has admitted to crimes, some of which he said he got away with. Now he is running for parliament as an independent candidate in Dublin Central, and he is polling third with fourteen percent of first preference votes. The byelection is scheduled for Friday, with results on Saturday. It is being held to fill the seat left vacant by Paschal Donohoe, a finance minister who quit to take a job at the World Bank.

What has become unmistakable in the campaign is that hostility toward immigrants—particularly Black immigrants and Muslims—has moved from the margins into mainstream Irish politics. Hutch has called for illegal immigrants to be detained in camps. "They should be all interned," he said in one recent interview, singling out people from East Africa. "The ones that are Somalians and them type of people, no way. Interned." When a Guardian reporter accompanied him on a canvassing trip, traveling on a flatbed truck playing pop music, Hutch claimed that ninety-nine percent of Irish people wanted stricter immigration rules but felt unable to say so openly. "Even when people have nowhere to live, because of the housing disaster, you can't say that," he said.

On the streets and at doorsteps, voters approached him for photographs. One man told him he was his number one. Hutch handed out flyers promising leadership and honesty, a shake-up of the status quo. The message resonated. John Clarke, a forty-five-year-old butcher, said he was not racist but believed Ireland should look after its own people first. Both his children had moved to Sydney because they could not afford to buy homes in Dublin. He expressed particular concern about Muslims. A charity shop worker, who did not give her name, said the country was falling apart—no jobs, no housing, wages that were inadequate. Her son was thirty-six and still living at home. Jimmy McDaid, seventy-seven, said he would vote for Hutch to address drug dealing in the neighborhood. When asked about Hutch's criminal past, McDaid said everyone deserved a second chance. The government, he added, were the real gangsters.

Opinion polls show that voters rank the cost of living as the most pressing issue at thirty-three percent, followed by house prices at twenty-four percent, and immigration at twelve percent. Yet many voters see these issues as connected. The housing shortage and economic strain have created fertile ground for anti-immigrant messaging. What was once considered a fringe position—that newcomers are responsible for crime and the housing crisis—has become commonplace in working-class neighborhoods across Dublin Central, which spans hostels, asylum shelters, and wealthy districts.

Even mainstream politicians have begun adopting tougher language on immigration and asylum. Bertie Ahern, a former prime minister and member of the ruling Fianna Fáil party, was secretly recorded telling a voter that he worried most about Africans. "We can't be taking in people from the Congo and all these places," he said. He also expressed concern about the next generation of Muslims. The current prime minister, Micheál Martin, said Ahern's comments were inappropriate and did not reflect his party's values. Ahern later clarified that he had no objection to people entering through proper visa and asylum channels. Mary Lou McDonald, leader of the opposition Sinn Féin party, refused to directly address Hutch's call for internment camps, saying only that she could not comment on other people's statements.

The timing of the byelection has been shadowed by a death that has intensified scrutiny of race relations in Dublin. On May fifteenth, Yves Sakila, a thirty-five-year-old Congolese man, died after being restrained by security guards who suspected him of shoplifting in the city center. Police are investigating the circumstances. The incident has underscored the stakes of the anti-immigrant rhetoric now circulating in the campaign.

Hutch's near-victory in the 2024 general election shocked the political establishment. Now, with thirteen other candidates in the race, he has a narrow path to winning. The outcome will depend heavily on transfers from eliminated candidates. Sinn Féin's candidate, Janice Boylan, currently leads the field, but analysts believe she will need transfers, possibly including votes from Hutch supporters, to hold off Daniel Ennis of the Social Democrats. The byelection will test whether a candidate running explicitly on anti-immigrant sentiment can convert polling numbers into an actual seat in parliament, and whether mainstream parties will continue to accommodate or normalize the views he represents.