Historic celebrations need to be inclusive

THE past is rising up to meet us, and already the brickbats are flying as commemorations galore are just around the corner.

Over the coming decade there will be much to remember, and plenty we might be better off forgetting. Next year is the centenary of the great Lock-Out, where the masses made a stand for their rights against the big bosses of Dublin. It recalls a time when trade unions were entirely on the side of the angels, advocating for the multitudes, against the moral bankruptcy of the greedy few.

The following year, the Great War commenced. A slaughter of millions ensued, providing a forlorn hope that such depravity would never be repeated. From an Irish point of view, the war attracted thousands who were urged by John Redmond to fight for the rights of small nations, with the hope that at the end of it all, the contribution would be acknowledged with Home Rule.

Before that played out, 1916 entered the annals of Irish history and folklore. A small band of desperados, led by a diverse bunch of leaders, staged the Rising, and the British elevated the event to seismic by executing the leaders. The War of Independence followed within three years, leading to the Civil War, a bitter and twisted affair that left a foul taste for decades.

All of these events are to be remembered in the coming years, and as might be expected, memory plays tricks on the best of us. One man’s Rising is another’s undemocratic putsch. A dead teenager in the green fields of France is remembered in some quarters as having signed up for Ireland; others say his death had nothing to do with Ireland’s freedom. One strand of thought has it that the country’s sovereignty springs from those who instigated the Easter Rising; others believe it belongs to all, down through the generations, who made the Sean Bhean Bhocht their life’s work, through pen or sword.

A couple of weeks ago, at a commemoration for the War of Independence leader Tom Barry, the artist Robert Ballagh suggested that the Government’s pledge to “balance” the commemoration was wrong headed.

He disagreed with what he characterised as muting the sacrifice and achievements of men such as Barry by balancing them with “other historical events which played no part in our struggle for freedom”.

That position was disputed by Fine Gael TD for Waterford, John Deasy. He noted last week that his grandfather, Mick Deasy from Kilbrittain, Co Cork, fought with Tom Barry, and was involved in the fabled Crossbarry ambush.

“At the same time, I had three grand uncles from Bandon who fought in the Great War. There would have been a lot of families like mine and both my grandfathers, like others who fought in the War of Independence, would be the first to recognise that many of those who went to fight in Flanders and elsewhere did so in the belief it would lead to Home Rule.”

If these two individuals are to be taken as representative of wider sentiment among particular constituencies, then we’re in for some trouble. Ballagh is a republican of the old school. Deasy comes from the Fine Gael tradition that traces its roots back to Redmond and the Home Rule Party. Can these traditions be reconciled in a national celebration of all traditions?

Last week also saw historian John A Murphy apply his oar to the rising swell. He said that whatever government was in power in 1916 and the years following would have serious difficulties in working its way through the various commemorations.

“How is inclusiveness to be realised? Then the Government has to consider what does the public want over the next 10 years — does the public want a full-blooded commemoration of 1916, à la 1966 and, if so, can that be satisfied?

“And then there is the inescapable embarrassing dilemma of 1916 itself — how to reconcile the Easter Rising and the issue of unmandated force, the cult of bloodshed and so on with the democratic process — and that’s a pretty difficult challenge.”

Heavy stuff for any traditionalist to digest. The obvious reply on the matter of the use of unmandated force is that the foreign power which ruled the country wasn’t mandated either, but Murphy does raise interesting questions. In particular, the comparison with 1966 is entirely valid.

Then, a one-dimensional view of 1916 was the only show in town. How could it be otherwise when the president of the time, Éamon de Valera, was one of the leaders, and then taoiseach Seán Lemass had been in the GPO on that fateful week.

Is the Rising still widely regarded as a glorious sacrifice? Is the cult of bloodshed, as voiced by Murphy, one that should still be celebrated?

We don’t have to go back as far as 1966 to look for answers. In 2006, in a highly unusual move, Fianna Fáil’s Bertie Ahern elevated the 90th anniversary way beyond what might be expected. A large military display was enacted that Easter to commemorate the Rising, bigger than anything that had been seen since 1966. The blood and thunder elements were played down, but the general thrust of the affair followed the traditional narrative. Of course we lived in another country six years ago. Humility was thin on the ground. The place was awash with monopoly money and Ahern and his fellows saw themselves as the rightful successors to the Rising’s leaders. While the men of 1916 had spilt blood for their country, those of 2006 had carried the baton by providing economic prosperity, vibrancy and whatever brand of balderdash you’re having.

One of the reasons proffered in official circles for the extravagance was that is would serve as a precursor for the even bigger celebrations on the centenary. But surely, with Celtic Tiger hubris confined to the bin of history, it’s time to commemorate with a little more maturity, and set the tone for what will follow all the way up to 2022.

In the first instance, a military-led commemoration should be out. Apart from anything else, the Rising was a military disaster. It was the stupidity of the British which gave the event its significance.

Others beyond the leaders must be commemorated. What about the innocent who died in that fateful week? What about the British soldiers, most of them effectively enslaved by imperialism themselves? Should representatives of those fallen men and women not be in attendance?

Equally, there is a case to be made that the whole thrust of the celebrations needs to be recalibrated. For instance, Pádraig Pearse and James Connolly were fighting for very different Irelands. All that united them was the modus operandi: Physical force. Just because John Redmond, and those who went before him such as Parnell and O’Connell, fought through peaceful means for another version of freedom should not exclude their contributions from a national commemoration.

If the coming celebrations are not inclusive, then all that will unfold is the further propagation of dodgy myths, suggesting that we have learned precious little in the intervening century.