Summer schools on learning curve that runs all the way to Croke Park

THERE were plenty of things to complain about during the last few months, but there was much to celebrate too, including those things that can generate a great deal of pride in being Irish.

The summer schools and festivals are a case in point; they are now so numerous that if you had the time or the inclination, you could spend the whole season engaged in protracted debate and discussion about this country’s past and future.

Like most historians, I’m forever hungry for information, and the one thing that can feed that hunger better than anything is a room full of interesting people engrossed in heated and enlightened discussions that often reveal a new angle, solve a particular mystery, prove a hunch, vindicate a conspiracy theory, or simply whet the appetite for further research and begin a whole new sequence of questions.

The summer schools are also about a public sense of ownership of dialogue about the state of the nation, and involve much conviviality and hospitality. As Declan Kiberd observed last summer, “the modern Irish summer school seems unique and a cross between adult education course and Big House weekend”.

One reason the festivals and summer schools have become so interesting in recent years is their centrality to the quest for answers about difficult issues from our past and where we go from here.

At the Merriman summer school in Co Clare last month, historian Gearóid O’Tuathaigh spoke of the transformation of Ireland over the last 40 years and, while lauding the positive changes, also suggested that “what is striking is the almost total absence of any clearly articulated or elaborated coherent social vision by political leaders in recent decades … the general run of statements of social policy have rarely ventured too far from the safe zone of economic managerialism which has become the general zone of political discourse”.

While O’Tuathaigh acknowledged the progress politicians have made in managing the economy and bedding down the peace process in Northern Ireland, he made the fair point that politicians’ “failure to articulate, still less to systematically take steps of achieving a coherent and persuasive vision of social solidarity, based on a set of values and principles that would enjoy wide public endorsement, has resulted in a series of confused, inconsistent or contradictory strategies being announced and pursued — in regional planning, health and housing, integrated planning of infrastructure, crime and the causes of crime — an incoherence which continues to cause widespread frustration, confusion, disappointment and anger among different sections of the community”.

At some of the summer schools, it is common for politicians to respond to such a critique by sending a Government minister robustly to defend the status quo.

At the Humbert summer school, for example, Finance Minister Brian Cowen’s only intention was to reiterate the general election campaign arguments by deriding Fine Gael and indulging in a bout of infantile media-bashing.

But this year’s Merriman school was a politician-free zone. What was witnessed instead was an assembly of over 300 people giving their own views and their own perspectives on changes in Ireland over the last 40 years.

Summer schools and festivals are also about observing many different styles and methods of communication, but what most of them have in common is the desire to inform, inspire, reflect and entertain.

They are also linked up with a deep interest in local publishing, local history and local radio, and are dependent for their success on many committed and often unsung volunteers.

ANOTHER thing to celebrate, particularly in light of the disappointing performances of the Irish rugby and soccer teams last week, is the continued success of the GAA and its exceptional contribution to our sense of community. As a Dubliner following the fortunes of its football team last month, it was enthralling to walk up O’Connell Street into Gardiner Street and past the Hill 16 pub, across Mountjoy Square and down to the throng outside Gill’s pub on the corner of Jones’ Road .

The sense of expectation and pride was palpable and the close-knit inner city communities went to great lengths to ensure that the paths to Croke Park were awash with blue.

It is a pity that both finals this year were so one-sided, but that should not detract from the tremendous entertainment, skill and commitment on display all summer from amateur athletes. I was lucky enough to get a ticket for the hurling final. There is no other experience like an All-Ireland final day and it evokes a pride that lingers long after the game. Given Kilkenny’s devastating brilliance in the opening 10 minutes, only a miraculous display was going to rescue Limerick, but despite the gulf in the quality of the two teams, this was still the culmination of a marvellous summer of hurling for the GAA — the thrilling Waterford v Cork games had already ensured that. All-Ireland final days encapsulate what Nuala O’Faoláin once described as the “feeling of the nation as an entity”.

A friend had brought two natives of London to see their first hurling match. They were awestruck, not just by the skill and athleticism they witnessed, but by the sheer scale of the stadium and the passion that emanates from amateur athletes and a crowd of 82,127.

The Londoners had seen nothing like it before and were suitably impressed as they found themselves on the pavement outside Gill’s pub after the match.

We listened to impassioned post-match debates about whether or not Henry Shefflin is a better hurler than Christy Ring was in his heyday; in another corner a group wondered whether Ring would have used a dietician in his day had they existed (in his victory speech, Shefflin had made a point of thanking the team’s dietician).

Those who rubbished the idea of a dietician in the 1950s were chancing their arms. Sports historian Paul Rouse made the point that hurling teams have always trained hard; it’s just the rhetoric around the training that has changed.

In the GAA museum under the Cusack Stand there is a notebook detailing the training of a supreme athlete and GAA founding member, Maurice Davin. Back in the 1870s Davin was talking about the importance of rest, of hydration, of ice-baths, of avoiding alcohol and tobacco, of eating carbohydrates and lean meat and fresh fish and fruit and vegetables. He measured his workouts to the last inch and kept a notebook detailing the performances of his local and national opponents.

One of the Londoners asked if it was possible to summarise the essence of the appeal of the GAA. I suggested he look at Tom Humphreys’ conclusion about the impact of the organisation, written in 1996: “It’s impact is emotional, visceral … the GAA is more than a sports organisation, it is a national trust, an entity which we feel we hold in common ownership. It is there to administer to our shared passion”.

It continues to do that handsomely.