But the concept
of Irish identity is an entirely complex one. Not only is the island fragmented
along the much mulled-over socio-religious split, its border and the political
loyalties within, but also the long-standing heritage of regionalism and provincialism. There is no easy answer to,
‘where are you from?’, and while people usually provide a simple, and indeed
satisfactory, response, regardless of their official geopolitical tag, the
truest description of Irish personal identity is highly developed and often
impossible for outsiders to grasp. And that’s before one even considers the
influence of the EU on both Dublin and on Belfast.
Ireland the island, both the Republic and the
North, can be divided into six key descriptors.
- The smallest, and most ancient marker: townland (from tuath, denoting an enclosure). Unique to Ireland. For example Cahermaclanchy , County Clare and Shillanavogy, County Antrim.
- Towns and cities might follow, if living in an urban environment.
- The next largest divider (dismissing Borough Councils) is the county. For example Louth or Waterford.
- Then comes one of four provinces; Ulster, Leinster, Munster, Connacht.
- Following this is the geopolitical decider of Northern Ireland or the Republic of Ireland.
- Then, and perhaps the most tricky for those in the North, is whether the individual is Irish, Northern Irish, British or a mixture of all three.
But this is all
purely academic, for in reality, few people will rattle off all six. Most will
opt for point two, five or six, occasionally three. Even here, however, the
concept is hazy, as nobody will say the same thing as the next. And herein lies
the crux of the issue. What does it actually mean to be from the island of Ireland?
In ancient times it was a strictly provincial concept, further
subdivided by local kingdoms, clans and ruling families. Not that this mattered
to the common man, as the daily life and cultural behaviours of each region was
closely related and family would have been the primary marker of identification
for the masses. And so it remained until 1541, when the single Kingdom of Ireland
was created by the occupying politics of Westminster,
once and for all forcing the Irish to subscribe to the heretofore alien notion
of nationhood. Not that this meant that the island as a whole was its own ruler
under a single, accepted government; it never has been. Nor was it ever a
united country, much to the dismay of modern romantics.
And so Ireland
moved into the early modern period and beyond with scrambled and uncertain
concepts of identity, largely dictated by the divisive legacy of conquest. Further confusing the issue was the notion of post-Reformation
Christianity. From the early medieval era until this point, Ireland had been
Christian, if in a unique form in many ways foreign to accepted Roman
Catholicism. But the advent of Protestantism and the forceful policies of Tudor
and Elizabethan planters gave rise to a cultural divide still being negotiated
to this day; the labelling of people as Catholic or Protestant, as opposed to simply
Christian.
But it would be erroneous to accept that the sectarian
divide of the modern day has been continuous since the Plantation. One has only to point to the
highly popular and nationwide United Irishmen movement that attracted
supporters on both sides of the religious divide.
If the current social ghettoisation is not down to
continual, if habitually recurring, sectarianism of the kind that finally undid
the United Irishmen, nor is it the result of social incompatibility. The Scots
and Irish share more than many in the current day are willing or able to
acknowledge (see ‘Shared Origins’ article for more information). On the
contrary, it is largely due to confused and desperate attempts to forge
security out of the ruins of conquest.
Ireland has never been the golden chalice of
promise as believed by some, and those who point to the Battle
of the Boyne as a way to sure their argument
are grossly misinformed. As Winston Churchill tellingly put it, ‘we have always found the Irish a bit odd. They refuse to
be English.’ In the rawest evaluation, the modern problems of identity are the
direct result of external influence.
These
conflicting ideas of nationalism, regionalism and identity are highly tangled
and largely contradictory notions that fail to see the bigger and more
important picture; the inhabitants of Ireland are culturally and genetically the
same, and share the same linguistic origins. This is largely ignored, forgotten
and dismissed, and as Conor Cruise O'Brien observed, ‘Irishness is not
primarily a question of birth or blood or language; it is the condition of
being involved in the Irish situation, and usually of being mauled by it.’
Inhabitants of the island are torn and confused by the
situation, and the scholar must look no
further that the highly romanticised notions of pan-Celticism and the idea of a
pure Celtic race, made popular in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. These
notions were the construct of desperate idealism, born in a climate of
frustration and uncertainty due to the political machinations of Ireland being
torn apart by various claimants, and given weight by the poetic musings of the
likes of William Butler Yeats. Yeats, a Protestant, reflected fondly on the
idea that Ireland
should cast off the constraints of external rule and forge a modern
interpretation of Celtic identity. The fact that ‘Celtic’ in this sense was a
recent fabrication seems not to have entered into his thinking.
Indeed not
all were convinced, not least of who was Yeats' contemporary James Joyce. Joyce,
a Catholic, viewed the Irish as a people who had never known a singular,
all-encompassing identity, and argued that its fluid state was well suited for
pragmatic evolution and development. In his work, A Portrait of the Artist
as a Young Man, Joyce criticises
the notions favoured by allies of Yeats, and instead invites the Irish to
consolidate the notions of identity and in doing so move forward for the first
time in a singular notion of pan-Irish identity.
One must
be careful not to dismiss Yeats as a dreamer, nor Joyce as a shamefaced
cultural critic. Both men present important interpretations of identity upon
which an enduring and all-encompassing notion of modern ‘Irishness’ can be built.
The Yeats camp encourages the consideration that the ‘Gaelic-Irish’ and ‘Scots-Irish’
share a singular cultural and historical heritage, while Joyce reminds us that Ireland is a modern country, an Old World melting pot which must adapt, learn and settle
before it can progress.
While the
tricky political condition resulting in the border must not be taken lightly,
people of this island need to learn to transcend political reckoning with
social cooperation. So where does this leave us? It leaves us without a single,
identifiable voice; a petty and embarrassing construct born from invasion,
divide and conquest. Indeed, if the island is to move forward, it is time for
the people to reconsider their history with a fresh perspective and rethink
what exactly it means to be of this island.
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I wrote a vaguely related post, on this subject, a while ago. http://datbeardyman.blogspot.com/2012/01/counties.html
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