We lead this month with Tim O’Sullivan’s review of a book that has caused considerable stir in Ireland: Vandalising Ireland by Eoin Lenihan, a Clare-born journalist and researcher. Remarkably, the book reached number one across all categories on Amazon Ireland shortly after publication and remained highly ranked for an extended period, despite receiving no significant promotion—least of all from the elites it accused of “vandalising” the country. As O’Sullivan puts it, “Its central argument is that the Government, the NGO ‘industrial complex,’ and the media have ‘conspired to vandalise Ireland’ (p. 234) and are engineering a new ‘globalist’ country in its place.”
Clearly, the theme of the book resonated with many—enough, at least, to prompt them to purchase it and recommend it to friends. It is also noteworthy that Lenihan’s book was published a week before the 24 October Irish presidential election. That election made history for its 13 per cent of spoiled votes, as well as for its extremely low turnout, and it revealed a sizeable minority who were seriously dissatisfied with their political leaders. Something, clearly, is rumbling beneath the surface of Irish life.
While O’Sullivan is broadly complimentary of the book, he does take issue with Lenihan’s critical portrayal of the Church’s historical role in Ireland. More significantly, however, he raises the following criticism:
Perhaps inevitably, given the vastness of the topic, there are some gaps in this passionate reflection on the nation. Thus, the Irish language today, the place of Northern Ireland in the Irish nation, Irish sovereignty versus EU federalism, and the pro-life issue, with its significant demographic implications, feature little, though the author does discuss the decline of Irish in earlier centuries.
These are serious criticisms, insofar as they point to a slight undervaluing of the spiritual and cultural dimension of the nation.
David Marsh’s timely book Can Europe Survive? The Story of a Continent in a Fractured World, reviewed here by James Bradshaw, appears to address, on a European scale, much the same malaise that affects Ireland. As Bradshaw reminds us, Europe has been experiencing a period of protracted turmoil, marked by the war in Ukraine and the dramatic weakening of Europe’s position vis-à-vis the United States. Europe has become a minor player on the world stage, financially and militarily—a reality underscored by the continent’s virtual impotence in the face of Trump’s recent bellicosity over Greenland.
The blame for this decline is often ascribed to the weakness of recent leaders and governments, but Bradshaw rightly notes that this explanation is insufficient. Something deeper is at work:
There is so much in this extraordinary and illuminating book, but there is something missing too. Economics, fiscal and monetary policy, war and peace all have their place in understanding where Europe and the world stand. Yet there is so much more occurring beneath the surface that Marsh chooses not to explore. At the heart of the crisis in Europe is not economic stagnation or military unpreparedness. Europe has stopped believing in itself because Europe has ceased to understand itself.
This loss of self-belief and self-understanding, I suggest, lies at the root of the vandalising of Ireland. Both Ireland and Europe have become economic rather than cultural entities—a fact thrown into sharp relief by the immigration crisis of the past decade. For the elites, whether in Brussels or Dublin, nations—like individuals, one suspects—have no soul. Political communities are viewed merely as machines for generating wealth. One gets the impression that national flags and anthems cause embarrassment, as does the “narrative” by which a nation recounts to itself—and especially to its children—the deeds of its great men and women. National pride does nothing for GNP. Hence, there is nothing problematic about the unrestrained immigration of those who have not made this narrative their own. They are, after all, a workforce.
One of the great problems with viewing a political community as a soulless machine is that, while one may make use of a machine, one can never love it—nor sacrifice oneself for it. This is borne out by recently released population figures for Ireland, which show that births have fallen in every age group except the over forties, and even there, the increase is insufficient to offset the decline elsewhere. Who cares if a machine approaches extinction? It is quite different, however, if what is endangered is something unique and unrepeatable: a society with a deep culture and heroic history.
Bradshaw is right to draw attention to the feeble identity marker Marsh proposes for Europe:
Marsh attempts to define the “European way of life,” suggesting that its first component is “multiculturalism.” No self-respecting civilisation would regard this as the basis of its identity. China and Russia certainly do not, and one side of the American political spectrum rejects such notions as well.
I have come to think that “multiculturalism” is little more than a euphemism for the death of culture. It means that a society embraces everything because it embraces nothing—no set of values, no religion, no common history. It is also closely linked, I suspect, to the loss of historical consciousness within a people.
Some readers may be surprised to learn that a person has a natural duty to love his country—to be patriotic:
It is the duty of citizens to contribute along with the civil authorities to the good of society in a spirit of truth, justice, solidarity, and freedom. The love and service of one’s country follow from the duty of gratitude and belong to the order of charity. Submission to legitimate authorities and service of the common good require citizens to fulfil their roles in the life of the political community (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2239).
Thus, at the heart of the European—and Irish—crisis lies a crisis of love: the erosion of love for “the rock from which one is hewn,” for the country and culture that, with all their inevitable faults, stand as a parent—patria—to us.