TG4: the saviour of a language

IN between all the empty debate and petty disputes and rows and static and scandal and point-scoring and personality disputes and constituency infighting, you get rare reminders politics can still concern itself with — to paraphrase Otto von Bismarck — the art of the possible.

In every political generation somebody makes a decision or takes an initiative that has the potential to transform society or change the way we view the world.

Donagh O’Malley did it in 1966 when he declared the era of free education. The similar Butler reforms brought in Britain in 1948 is often said to have been responsible for the emergence of the new breed of highly educated and highly radicalised Catholic politicians and protesters in the late 1960s.

Since O’Malley, there has been a smattering of such originality, examples of ministers or governments throwing caution to the wind, ignoring gradualist advice of civil servants, and making transformative decisions after which nothing will be the same.

Never underestimate the power and longevity of such decisions. Even after Charles Haughey’s abject defenestration, his defenders could still counter allegations of graft and greed with his decisions on free travel and the artists’ tax exemption.

Horrendously difficult sacrifices had to be made in order to win peace in the North.

Micheál Martin may have only survived the Department of Health by the skin of his teeth — and all but written off his chances of becoming the leader of Fianna Fáil. But Martin will be remembered as the man who introduced the smoking ban. Overnight, myths about pub culture, the rebellious Irish, nanny states, were stubbed out in the ashtray of history.

Next Monday, Hallowe’en night, will see the 10th anniversary of one such brave and courageous decision. On October 31, 1996, Teilifís na Gaeilge (now TG4) went live, having been championed by Michael D Higgins, then Arts Minister.

Higgins made it happen against advice and having taken a fair deal of flak from political and other detractors. There were the usual canards about how many hospital wards the annual running cost could fund and the taunts that it would be a white elephant, or Teilifís de Lorean, as Kevin Myers brutishly put it.

But without TG4, Irish as a living language would have slowly withered on the vine.

It’s estimated there are 6,000 languages in use throughout the world at present, and only abut 3,000 are expected to survive the coming century. Irish is in decline, and arguably in danger of being one of those which faces the death rattles of extinction.

Native speakers no longer live in a world that is hermetically isolated or self-contained. Technology, globalisation and increasing interconnectedness has led to a language imperialism, where smaller languages are swamped by the greater reach of major tongues.

In Ireland, that process has been ongoing since the 18th century and before. The poet Michael Hartnett put it best when he said English was the “perfect language to sell pigs in”.

What is slightly alarming is evidence that the reach of English has extended to the last outposts where Irish is the mother tongue — the Gaeltacht regions on the western seaboard.

The future of the language depends to some extent on the survival of the Gaeltachtaí but also to a new emphasis on bilingualism and the creation of new and more intimate Gaeltachtaí — in homes; in schools; among friends. Why is this important? It goes beyond the “ní tír gan teanga” saying to the importance of retaining a linguistic and cultural identity in the face of the monoculturalism and globalisation. Ironically, Irish will need the tools of globalisation — television, internet, new technologies — to sustain itself.

Ag googláil as Gaeilge is vital. The remarkable Gaelscoil movement is vital. And so too TG4 — vital, vital. Ten years after its launch, TG4 provides quality programming for which Irish is the means of expression rather than the raison d’etre. Some purists have argued against the occasional grammatical howlers from Hector, or from the creeping Béarlachas you sometimes get in Ros na Rún, or the documentaries accessing talking heads making contributions in English.

That holds a mirror up to Irish as it is spoken, to the language’s place in a society primarily English-speaking. Despite all the dire predictions, it commands a regular audience of 100,000 and is no longer spoken off as a waste or a vanity project.

Go maire tú an céad!

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