The ashes of our fathers

Identity politics is as much about the collapse of old identities as the forging of new ones. The current discussion about how the centenary anniversary of Ireland’s partition should be marked shows how radically political identities can be reconstructed over time. When Micheál Martin stood up in Dáil Éireann about a year ago and declared Ireland had moved on from “backward ideas about sovereignty” in favour of “the ideals of the European Union”, it must have struck a lot of people that this was something quite incongruous from the leader, of what was proudly the republican party, the anti-partition party, the party most identified with the pursuit of a unified and sovereign Irish nation. The same party was also the one most enthusiastically promoting the country’s native culture and language. It drew its vision from the 1916 signatories and in particular Patrick Pearse who aspired to an Ireland, that was “not merely free but Gaelic as well”. A week is a long time in politics so it should not be surprising that, over a number of decades, a political party like Fianna Fáil could recast its identity to the point of discarding what it once held to be non-negotiable core values.

Like all such evolutions it did not happen overnight. The EU as an entity in itself, rather than a collection of entities, was implicit in its adoption of the symbols and structures associated with sovereign states. Its grand assembly was designated a parliament, presided over by its president. It had its own anthem and its own flag and logo. It didn’t set out to dissolve its members’ identities but to subsume them, in all their particularity, into a comprehensive political organism. Its declared aim was to break down historic animosities between rival nations, not destroy or dilute their identities. But of course the policy of open borders and centralised policy formation needed to secure its aim has ushered in a new sense of what it is to be of Irish or any other nationality. Incrementally, we have all become a little more like each other in how we think, how we learn, how we work, how we eat and, to varying degrees, in how we appropriate a supranational, European identity.

As Micheál Martin pointed out in his Dáil address, the “values of the European Union” have ended wars between European states. They have contributed too to the gradual and growing detente between the UK and Ireland. In fact after the Good Friday Agreement in 1998, Fianna Fáil under Bertie Ahern began to assume a less vividly green shade of nationalism. In 2004, they quietly changed the party’s name from “Fianna Fáil, the Republican Party”, to simply “Fianna Fáil”. Micheál Martin has led them the rest of the way by entering coalition with the old enemy, the party who approved partition and settled for being a free state instead of holding out for an All Ireland republic. But all that was a long time ago and merging with the old enemy was the next logical step in a converging political journey as both parties outgrew their shared social conservatism and their founding raison d’être was overtaken by events.

The problem with changing identity is that not everyone is happy to move on. From the point of view of Micheál Martin and Leo Varadkar, dissenters will be swept into the current of progress sooner or later or else find themselves, irrelevant and ridiculous, up an ideological creek without a political paddle to free themselves.  As a former teacher of history, the new Taoiseach should know it’s not always so simple. Identity matters at some level to everyone. It is about being fully, freely and authentically who you feel yourself to be. People may find their sense of self within a belief system or an ethnicity or a culture or a way of life. Most often it is within an intersection of several of those denominations that we define ourselves. Some people will resist and risk all they have, even life itself to defend that sense of who they are and what they stand for. Micheál Martin probably sees his non-partisan stance towards marking the centenary of Irish partition as statesmanlike. However, in abandoning the deeply rooted identity of his party, he has opened the field to others. Sinn Féin have held more firmly to their republican roots. They have taken over from Fianna Fáil as the colour party in Irish politics. They have managed to graft their social progressivism onto traditional nationalism. Perhaps, strapped on rather than grafted might be more accurate. However, ill-sorted as their hybrid platform is by European standards, they have managed to sell it at the polls, North and South. Sinn Féin see “nothing to celebrate” about the upcoming centenary anniversary. At the other end of the political spectrum, the DUP have called for a public holiday to mark the occasion. Whether this divergence of views will spill over into the same divisive debate that stymied the government’s plans to mark the contribution of the RIC to Irish life has yet to be seen.

Brexit has shown the EU that there is a point beyond which identities can be merged without causing revolt. There are other member states who have gained hugely from EU membership like Poland who are not prepared to trade sovereignty for better security and living standards. Like Ireland, Poland paid a high price for its sovereignty. Sweden, in contrast, defines itself more by its progressiveness and inclusiveness, than its national and historic character. Uniquely in Europe, it has enjoyed centuries of peace. But even in Sweden there is a resurgence of nationalism. From Hungary to Spain, from Sweden to Italy, European countries or rather a significant demographic within them is asking if they can freely be who they are, a people shaped by their shared past, within the new European order. Refusal to acknowledge the desire of people to belong within a culture, a nation or a tribe, within a national and historic narrative has fuelled populist, far right politics across Europe.

It is easy to pay lip service to diversity but it is very challenging to live it out. While the European project has certainly kept peace between nations, it has created another rift along a much wider frontier of ideology. Micheál Martin speaks of “the values of the European Union” as if they were what any reasonable person might be expected to sign up to. In actual fact, despite the rhetoric of inclusion, there is a clear push to impose an overarching world view to which every individual and group is expected to conform. Do “the values of the European Union” acknowledge the right of a doctor or a nurse to decline to participate in an abortion or euthanasia procedure for instance? Do they acknowledge the right of parents to withdraw their children from sex education that does not adhere to a faith based understanding of sexuality? Do they acknowledge the rights of churches to operate charities and services that conform to their understanding of the rights and responsibilities of the individual? On the other hand, do the same “European values” allow arbitrary exemptions on the grounds of religion or ethnicity to certain groups despite causing deep offence to the indigent culture? Why is it important to raise up some ghosts from history and not others? How will Europe respond to claims for parity of language rights which looks like it may be the next cause du jour for rights campaigners? It is easy to see how difficult and complex it is to take diversity from aspiration to implementation. It is easy to see how any community, large or small, can live harmoniously without a fundamental shared ethic.

Real diversity would allow a voice to the wide range of opinion about how to mark the upcoming centenary of partition. Can the anniversary be a time to celebrate, a time to mourn and a time to reflect dispassionately all at the same time ? Will the Irish government who in the words of Micheál Martin “have moved on” from the turbulence of the past, be empathetic to those who have not or feel unable to do so? It is as good an example as any of how difficult it is to give rival identities expression in a multi-ethnic society without conflict. Societies that want to validate equally all their component cultures will always struggle to find the commonality that makes “them” part of “us”.

It is hugely challenging. Expressing identity by singing patriotic songs at the end of the BBC’s Proms concert series no longer passes for a harmless celebration of nationhood. What used to be seen as an exuberant expression of togetherness is now considered triumphalist, threatening and excluding. It could be the latter in another context but so could almost any anthem depending on how it is appropriated. If celebratory, sing-a-long patriotism is to be combed for political correctness, then we are fast entering a new era of narrow, cultural puritanism, witch hunting and censoring, the very negation of diversity.

In one of his poems, from his anthology, The Lays of Ancient Rome, Thomas Macauley, describes how the sense of belonging to a people and place inspires great acts of courage. Patrimony is about beliefs and values as much as the ties of blood and race – something people have always been prepared to fight for. Those impulses, it must be said, have exacted a terrible price from the peoples of Europe across the centuries. Nevertheless, the things a person might risk life for are also the things that give life its purpose, its heart and soul. Macauley’s throbbing lines may sound like outmoded jingoism to modern ears but they nevertheless pulse with the timeless human need for meaning and identity even when defending them becomes a weary and dangerous struggle: “And how can man die better than facing fearful odds, for the ashes of his fathers and the temples of his gods.”