The View
Martin Mansergh
January brought Ireland into the second and more difficult phase of the decade of centenaries dominated by the birth pangs of a new State. Part of the price of this or any form of Irish self-government was partition.
There are two modes of remembering. The ceremonial joint session of the Houses of the Oireachtas on January21 in the Mansion House, where a First Dáil depleted by imprisoned members met 100 years ago, was an unequivocal celebration of our independent national democracy.
In 1919, a few hours previously, what is widely regarded as the opening shots of the War of Independence had been fired on a country road at Soloheadbeg, a few miles outside Tipperary, when an ambush by eight Volunteers to seize gelignite destined for a nearby quarry resulted in two policemen being shot dead.
The action was strongly condemned by the parish priest of Tipperary, Canon Arthur Ryan, known for his strong Redmondite sympathies. He lamented the likelihood that “where Tipperary leads Ireland follows”. Opinion remains divided, many regarding leading members of the ambush party, Dan Breen and Seán Treacy, as patriotic heroes, while others regret a potentially avoidable loss of life of two police constables doing their duty.
However, in any armed confrontation, like one that occurred in Kerry in April 1918, it could as easily have been two Volunteers who laid dead afterwards.
Media interest
This centenary generated considerable media interest. Official ceremonies took place at the 1950 monument in a large open space opposite Solohead Church organised by the local parish community working in conjunction with the Third Tipperary Brigade Old IRA.
Archbishop Kieran O’Reilly conducted Sunday Mass in the large packed church with crowds waiting outside. Mass was attended by relatives of the original participants, Volunteers, council workmen and police. All their names were listed on a new information plaque at the side of the monument, and read out.
The two principal speakers outside the church were the Culture Minister in charge of commemorations, Josepha Madigan, and Éamon Ó Cuív, de Valera’s grandson. The tone was one of thoughtful commemoration, conscious of a duty of inclusion and reconciliation at such an important and defining event.
There was a well-attended conference, including a History Ireland hedge school, the previous day at the Ballykisteen Hotel. Hagiography, certainly among historians, has given way to more dispassionate and critical examination.
As the original advice given to the Government by the Expert Advisory Group of independent historians, of which Dr Maurice Manning is chair, affirmed, “the State should not be expected to be neutral about its existence. The aim should be to broaden sympathies, without having to abandon loyalties, and in particular recognising the value of ideals and sacrifices including their cost.”
Throughout the War of Independence centenary, but much less so during its Civil War sequel, there will be many who want to celebrate – not just commemorate – the actions of local men and women, particularly where there is a family connection. Given Ireland’s history, this is to be expected.
Ireland’s “exaltation among the nations”, which has a slightly biblical ring to it, was one of the goals of the 1916 Proclamation. Applied 100 years on to any military action that resulted in deaths, it is more debatable, however justified the cause. Certainly, restraint and respect rather than triumphalism was the tone of the Soloheadbeg commemoration outside the church.
In December 1915, Pearse exulted in the willingness to shed blood of those engaged in the First World War, for example in Belgium and the Dardanelles, but he was horrified when he came face to face with the bloodshed and destruction at the end of Easter Week, while still expressing the hope that enough had been done.
It had. Winston Churchill was thrilled in 1915 to be making history, directing part of a world war effort, but in old age, despite the credit he achieved for his leadership of Britain in the Second World War, he acknowledged the failure of his generation.
Perhaps the only time Louis XV earned the title of ‘His Most Christian Majesty’ was in 1745 when he toured the body-strewn field of Fontenoy, which battle France had won with the help of the Irish Brigade, he pointed out to the Dauphin his son: “See what a victory costs. The blood of our enemies is still the blood of men. The true glory is to spare it.”
The words are inscribed on a pillar to his memory erected in the cathedral city of Reims in 1818, in implied rebuke to Napoleon’s reckless squandering of life in pursuit of glory. How many world leaders today think about sparing the lives of their enemies, rather than refining weapons of last resort that could wipe out millions of people?
A sovereign, independent Ireland was ruled out in advance by the British Government, regardless of the size of the majority for it. Prising Ireland or even most of it out of Britain’s grasp after centuries of being held down could not have been achieved by moral force or passive resistance alone, as Daniel O’Connell had found when he had to call off a mass Repeal meeting in Clontarf in 1843.
Most, though not all, historians would concede that even initially limited Irish independence could not have been gained without a combined strong democratically based political strategy and armed resistance. Tens of thousands of Irish soldiers had fought in the Great War, ostensibly for the rights of small nations, amplified into self-determination after American entry into the war, only to be told that none of this applied to Ireland. Post-independence, what became a progressively isolated republic proved unsatisfactory, till the EU provided a framework in which smaller states could survive and prosper.
As sober mid-20th-Century heads realised, partition could not be terminated by the methods of the War of Independence, as events proved. It seemed that the peace process had finally brought historic conflict and old stereotypes to an end, but this is being severely stress-tested by Brexit.