Quiet Minority?


David Trimble touched on a few raw nerves with his assertion that the Irish Republic (in which I was born and where I live) is a "mono-ethnic, mono-cultural, sectarian state". But he did succeed in lighting the touch paper for quite an unprecedented debate – from which a lot can be learnt about life in the Republic today. It may seem odd to some that the comments of a unionist leader could have generated such debate among a Southern audience long hardened to the rhetoric of people like Paisley. But, unlike Paisley, Trimble enjoys a sort of gritty respect in the Republic – the kind of respect a boxer might have for his opponent having gone the full thirteen rounds. Trimble has a reputation for "hanging on in there", and for standing up both to the hard-line opponents in his own party and to the IRA. He is far more listened to in the South than any unionist leader ever has been.

This explains the way in which many in the South initially seemed taken-aback by his comments. There was much soul-searching in the aftermath - "Is Trimble merely reverting to type as a tribal leader?" you could hear people ask themselves. "Or does he have a real point?". What is certain is that Trimble used up a lot of his accumulated political goodwill in the Republic in making the comments that he did. However, he succeeded in sparking a debate in the Republic like never before, and this is what will surely be worth more in the long run.

The response to Trimble’s comments was not slow in coming, and was led by the Taoiseach, Bertie Ahern, who was only too glad to distract attention both from a bad result for his Fianna Fáil party in the abortion referendum, and from the substance of Trimble’s speech - the call for a border poll. Over the next week, Irish newspapers and airwaves were filled with the spectacle of politicians and media pundits raising their voice in outrage. Some Protestant clergymen seemed to be falling over themselves in their eagerness to get on RTÉ and parade their loyalty to the Republic.

Of course, there was nothing particularly new about this. After all, a sizeable chunk of the Protestant minority in the Republic is indeed happily integrated, particularly those living in urban areas. Many clergymen feel the same way, and are only too happy to avail of any opportunity to distance themselves from their rambunctious Northern co-religionists.

What was most significant about the aftermath of Trimble’s comments was the willingness of people from the British minority in the Republic – as distinct from the Protestant minority – to join the debate. Not only were Reform Movement heavyweights - such as Bruce Arnold and Ruth Dudley Edwards - involved, but so too were a multitude of new voices from across the country.

The fact that a debate of this nature took place at all is remarkable. For those in the minority over the last 80 years, the tendency has very much been to stay quiet about matters political. "Keeping the head below the parapet" is an oft-heard phrase; indeed, since independence and the violence of 1919-1923, quiescence has been the sine qua non of minority participation in public life. When you consider the isolation and vulnerability of many in the minority – particularly those living in rural areas - this attitude is not difficult to understand. For most of the period since independence, views critical of nationalist orthodoxy could be aired only in private.

Now, such dissident views are being expressed on the letters pages of the national dailies – The Irish Times in particular - and they help us to delineate the present extent of minority aspirations in the Republic today. For this reason, it is not my intention to give a "blow-by-blow" account of the media debate, but rather to pin down the major themes, and the areas in which there is room for improvement in the conduct of majority-minority relations.

The Historical Context

The minority cannot be understood without reference to the historical background, and in particular to the period between 1919-1923. As Bruce Arnold has pointed out, the minority today draws on two distinct historical traditions – the Southern Unionists, who were mostly Protestants, and the Redmondites, who were mostly Catholic. A century ago, these traditions were in opposition to each other. But both traditions were profoundly traumatised by the events of the 1919-23 War of Independence. Many people were forced to flee their homes, and for most of those who stayed behind the period marked the end of their participation in the public life of the country. Protestants bore the brunt of the violence - between 1911 and 1926, Southern Ireland lost 32.5% of her Protestants, and just 2.2% of her Catholics.

Precise figures for this decline can be obtained from the 1926 Irish Free State (Saorstát Éireann) census:

Table I: Protestant population decline in Southern Ireland, 1911-1926

 

Church of Ireland

Presbyterian

Methodist

Baptists

Total "Others"

Roman Catholics

1911

249,535

45,486

16,440

1,588

327,179

2,812,509

1926

164,215

32,429

10,663

717

220,723

2,751,269

% Decline

-34.2%

-28.7%

-35.1%

-54.8%

-32.5%

-2.2%

Source: Saorstát Éireann, Census Figures, 1926

 

The decline of the Protestant population cannot be attributed simply to rural population decline, as there is such a large disparity between the figures for the decline of the Catholic population and the figures for the rest of the population.

The experience of Protestants in County Cork during 1919-1923 presents a compelling case study. Their story was well documented in the local newspaper, the Cork Constitution. In 1919, there was a relatively large Protestant minority in the county, who expressed themselves freely. For instance, on the return of soldiers from the Great War in 1919, the Cork Constitution records that

"At Skibbereen, a large Union Jack floated from the Post Office buildings, the Protestant Church, Hollybrook House and other residences… throughout the day"

While in Cork city itself on the same day:

"With one of two exceptions the shops in Patrick Street, King Street and other main thoroughfares stopped business for the day and from their premises hung the Union Jack and Allied flags in considerable numbers."

Both Southern Unionist parties - the Irish Unionist Alliance and the Unionist Anti-Partition League - were organised in the county. This was no token presence – the Irish Unionist Alliance for example had district branches in Bandon, Buttevant, Charleville, Clonakilty, Dunmanway, Durras, Fermoy, Glanmire, Innishannon, Kilmun, Mallow, Mitchelstown, Monkstown, Muskerry, Newmarket, Queenstown, Rosscarberry, Skibbereen, Schull, Timoleague and Youghal, as well as in Cork city itself.

The IRA opened 1920 with an attack against the police station in Carrigtwohill. On January 8th they attempted to murder Sir Alfred Dobbin, "one of the leading merchants of Cork – a staunch unionist". By mid-July seven more people had been murdered, and in general violence was stepped up throughout the county. It was in 1921 however that the violence reached its peak.

Two Skibbereen unionists, Sweetnam and O’Connoll, were murdered on February 23rd 1921 for having "given evidence against a man who had been levying subscriptions for the IRA". Others were targeted for lesser crimes – James Beale, a Protestant, was kidnapped and shot for fraternising with local Auxiliaries. On March 6th a young Protestant girl in Castletownbere had her hair shaved off for fraternising with British soldiers. In April Michael O’Keefe, an ex-serviceman, was dragged from his bed in Carrigtwohill by the IRA – his body was later discovered along with an IRA claim that the dead man was "a convicted spy". This was a pattern that grew to be terrifyingly familiar to Cork’s minority community and to ex-servicemen.

Intimidation of known unionists followed a definite pattern. An initial demand for money was likely, if refused, to be followed up by the theft of a farmer’s livestock. Historian Peter Hart emphasises that "simple dissent with IRA demands condemned many… very few were guilty of aiding the enemy". By mid-1921, 113 houses had been burnt to the ground by the IRA, 85% of which were Protestant (in a county where Protestants constituted 10% of the population). Most Protestants didn’t wait to get burnt out; they simply upped and left. Hart recalls that from the winter of 1920 onwards

"Protestants spent many nights away from home, sleeping in barns and fields. While IRA volunteers were going on the run from their enemies, these people were on the run from the IRA."

These experiences devastated the Protestant community in Cork. The Protestant population of Cork city (Cork County Borough) dropped by 49.8%. In Bantry the drop was 52.2%, in Cóbh / Queenstown it was 54.9%, in Midleton 59%. Hart has estimated from the records of Protestant Sunday services in the county, that two-thirds of this decline took place in 1921-22. Although the violence in Cork was particularly intense, this experience was a microcosm of the experience of Protestants right across the country, especially those living in rural areas. These experiences constitute a chapter in history, a chapter which even today goes unmentioned in the textbooks of the Republic’s schoolchildren. After 1919-23, things would never be the same again.

A Problem of Definition – Who are the minority?

During the media debate which followed Trimble’s comments, perhaps the most concrete contribution from circles close to the Irish Government was Dr. Martin Mansergh’s article of March 22nd in the Irish Independent. In this article, Dr. Mansergh argued that "occasional and mostly unintentional insensitivities" notwithstanding, the Republic’s conduct towards its "religious minorities" had been "honourable".

The emphasis on religion is understandable, given Dr. Mansergh’s own background as both a Protestant and a Republican. Such an emphasis does, however, obscure the fact that the minority cannot be characterised by labelling them as Protestant – in fact, it is rather difficult to pin an exact label on the minority. Labels such as "Unionist" or "Anglo-Irish" or "Protestant", which may have been appropriate in 1922, fail to adequately encapsulate the rather complex and heterogonous nature of the minority today. For one thing, since independence there has been a convergence with the Redmondite tradition - the best one can do today is to say that the minority consists of those whose identity is both Irish and British, and that it almost certainly contains more Catholics than Protestants. Perhaps somewhat ironically, the description "West British", which has traditionally been used in a derogatory fashion by nationalists, fits the bill better than most.

The common denominator, then, is not one of religion, but rather one of identity – the feeling of a sense of British identity, alongside an Irish or Ultonian identity. Such layering or coupling of identities is not seen as unusual anywhere else in the British Isles, where one can quite happily be Welsh and British, Asian and Welsh, West Indian and English. The principle that people in Northern Ireland can be Irish or British or both is central to the Good Friday Agreement. Yet the Irish Government seem to be at something of a loss when it comes to applying the same principles to those within its own borders who quite happily see themselves as being both British and Irish.

Minority Concerns Today

Probably the best way to estimate the size of the minority is to look at the number of people in the Republic today who hold British citizenship. The British Embassy has informed the Reform Movement that there are roughly 250,000 – 300,000 British passport holders living in the Irish Republic; of whom about 80,000 were born there. Given that both Ireland and the UK are European Union members, and that there are no discernible practical advantages to holding a passport of one sort or the other, it is reasonable to conclude that most of these 80,000 Irish-born people who hold a British passport do so for reasons of identity.

Then there are those who would like to hold a British passport, but who are precluded from doing so, by virtue of having been born after the Treaty in 1922. This is because British citizenship does not in itself confer a right to British citizenship upon one’s offspring. Instead, the litmus test is birth within the United Kingdom. Let’s take the case of "Arthur", born in Cavan in 1913, when the whole of the island was within the United Kingdom. His son "Bill", born to Arthur after independence, has a right to British citizenship through descent. However Bill’s son "Charles" has no such right, because Bill is merely a British citizen, and is not viewed as being "British born".

Thus, as the years go by, fewer and fewer people within the West British minority retain the right to British citizenship. It is unsurprising therefore that the demand for symmetry on citizenship rights has emerged as one of the most important planks in the Reform Movement’s policy platform. David Trimble spoke out in favour of such symmetry as long ago as 1998, saying

"The concept of parity of esteem, insofar as it has any meaning, ought to apply in the Republic, and people there who regard themselves as British and wish to take advantage of their British heritage should have the right to claim British citizenship. And with that should come the right to a British passport. Simple justice and fairness demands such a move."

Concerns about the issue of citizenship rights are underpinned by the perception among many in the Republic that the principle of "Parity of Esteem" stops at Dundalk – in other words, that it is something which the Irish Government wish to see applied to Northern Ireland, but not in their own backyard.

As Bernard Barton writes in The Irish Times:

"Notwithstanding the declared and often repeated policy of the Irish Government that parity of esteem must be afforded to both traditions in Northern Ireland, the Taoiseach and Ministers of his party in government still refuse to practise in this State what they would have others do in Northern Ireland".

Such concerns go far beyond the issue of citizenship. Barton went on to criticise the destruction by the State of monuments associated with the minority tradition – Nelson’s Pillar in O’Connell Street, the Goff Memorial in the Phoenix Park and the statue of William of Orange that used to stand in College Green. In similar vein, Corkman Ted Neville argued - again in the Irish Times – that

"Mono-ethnic, mono-cultural is not a derogatory description and is essentially correct. As regards being sectarian, one can recall the fact that the Dublin / Wicklow lodge of the Orange Order had to cancel its parade to unveil a plaque at the place of foundation in Dawson Street just two years ago, to avoid the clamour of ‘irate’ protestors."

These and similar themes were touched upon last year, when the Peace and Reconciliation Platform (based in the Glencree Centre) released a report entitled "Peace Building in the Irish Republic". The report cast a withering eye over the Republic’s track record on pluralism, and – particularly worthy of note - recommended the establishment of a Conflict Transformation Agency to tackle the problem of sectarianism in the Republic. One of the major points raised by the Peace and Reconciliation Platform concerned the teaching of history in the Republic’s schools. This issue was touched on by Shane Johnston who, writing in the Irish Independent, pointed out that

"The selective cultural and historical amnesia at hand today in the Republic of Ireland is such that it underpins much of the current history curricula taught in our schools at Junior and Leaving Certificate level. The interpretation of the past is fully compatible with popular nationalist beliefs about Ireland and it is a sad and damning reflection that, by completion of their state education, our young adults know nothing of the history, culture and beliefs of any tradition or religion but their own".

Indisputably this was the case in the past. DeValera, for one, saw the teaching of history as little more than a useful way of inculcating patriotism in the young. But it is also truer of the present than many would care to admit. The core Leaving Certificate text dealing with Irish History, "Ireland since 1870", mentioned nothing about the Southern Unionist tradition, and devoted just one chapter to the history and beliefs of the Ulster Unionists. Even where unionists are talked about, heavy emphasis gets laid on the economic reasons for wanting to maintain ties to Great Britain, rather than on the validity of unionism as an equal cultural, political and historical tradition on the island. There is a widespread misperception in the South of Northern Unionists as a parsimonious, money-grubbing people, whose primary attachment to the Union is economic, and thus only skin-deep.

The Religious Dimension

Finally, we come to rather more familiar territory - the religious dimension to the debate. Wesley Boyd, a former director of news at RTE, argued in the Irish Times for the abolition of the Angelus. Whilst he felt that David Trimble’s comments were "exaggerated and self-serving", he pointed out that

"if David Trimble wants evidence to support his contention that the Republic, he need only point to the daily broadcast of the Angelus on RTE"

The debate over the Angelus was not one-sided. Martin Mansergh expressed the view that "Protestants would be a truly petty people, if we were to object to all Catholic symbolism". Eoin Neeson, a former director of the Government Information Bureau, opined that "there are individuals of the Reformed Churches who do not recognise what the Angelus actually is" - according to Neeson, this view is but "simple ignorance" and "cannot be a satisfactory reason for ending the Angelus broadcast" - particularly given that the majority "have important and marked representative rights which minorities do not necessarily share" .

Geraldine Watts of Stillorgan was prompted to wonder whether this intervention might not be "an elaborate hoax". She pointed out that sentiments such as those expressed by Mr Neeson

"must cause Northern Protestants to wonder how their traditions would be regarded in a united Ireland" .

The Angelus and other religious themes recurred again and again. In his own inimitable style, Eoghan Harris recalled a litany of specifically Protestant grievances, which is well worth repeating in detail:

"At the start of the last century, the Ne Temere decree, which was a death sentence to small Protestant communities. In 1922, sectarian murders, ethnic cleansing and, of course, compulsory Irish which kept Protestants out of the public service. In the 1930s, the Irish Constitution, the special place for the Catholic church and the Protestant woman who was not deemed suitable to be a County Librarian.

In the 1940s and post-war period, the aggressive pickets on the Dublin Church mission and the attacks on poppy sellers. In the 1950s, the boycott of Fethard-on-Sea and the bigotry of Archbishop McQuaid. In my living memory, the brutal GAA ban and Protestant hurlers kneeling to kiss the Roman Catholic bishop’s ring, the breaking of windows in Protestant churches during H Block protests.

In the last few years, I recall the old Huguenot cemetery in Cork which was called Bishop Lucey Park against all decent opinion, the daily stoning of Protestant school buses in County Monaghan, the squeezing out of Protestant councillors in a part of Donegal".

Again, some will say that whilst such sectarian undercurrents may have characterised life in the Republic in the past, this is not the case today. Yet even in the very recent past there is the example of an abortion referendum during which the old alliance between the Catholic Church and Fianna Fáil was resurrected, and during which the Catholic church campaigned vigorously for a "yes" vote. To make matters worse, the Fianna Fáil government made little effort to secure the support of any religious group other than the Catholic church, and the referendum ended up being opposed by the Protestant churches and by the Jewish community. The impression was created even amongst the most apolitical non-Catholics of a return to the worst days of majoritarianism.

Also in the very recent past, there is the case of the School Principal, Tomás Ó’Dúlaing, who objected to the practise in his school (Gaelscoil Thulach na nÓg, Dunboyne, County Meath) of Protestant schoolchildren having to remove themselves from class whilst their Catholic schoolmates were being taught the Catechism. In April of this year, the principal pointed out that this amounted in practise to religious segregation of children at a very young age. Ó’Dúlaing suggested that all concerned would be better off if the Catholic schoolchildren could be taught religious doctrine outside of school hours. Parents and teachers agreed – yet the school’s Board of Management is now trying to sack him.

Conclusion

It is doubtful whether even David Trimble himself could have foreseen what the effects of his party conference address would be. Whether by accident or good fortune, his comments were propitiously timed. In the immediate aftermath of an abortion referendum that polarised the country down the middle, the Republic was perhaps more open to a period of self-questioning than would otherwise have been the case. Secondly, Eoghan Harris has pointed out that the first sign of a minority starting to feel secure, is that it starts to complain – and at the time the debate took place, the IRA had at last begun the process of actual decommissioning.

As we have seen, the debate in the media ranged over any number of topics, and touched on themes of religion, politics and culture which lie at the heart of the Republic’s society. There was however one underlying theme throughout the debate – that you cannot isolate the situation in the Republic from the situation in Northern Ireland. The post-1998 framework of mutual recognition and mutual respect, which applies in Northern Ireland, ought also apply in the Republic.

It is not good enough to draw a line around the border, and state "thus far shall parity of esteem go, and no further". There is no wall along the border in real life, particularly when it comes to the three Ulster counties in the Republic. Through links of religion and sport, through membership in the loyal institutions and through family ties, a deep network has evolved down through the years, connecting Northern Ireland Protestants with their co-religionists in the South. It is not difficult for a man living in Tyrone, Fermanagh or Armagh to look across the border and observe how the identity of his co-religionists in Cavan, Donegal or Monaghan is treated. Furthermore, it is not unreasonable for such a man to conclude that this is how his own identity would be treated should there ever be a United Ireland.

The situation in the Republic may be different in any number of respects, but in London. it is not separate. If the Republic cannot accommodate the hopes and dreams of the small and pretty mild-mannered British minority in their own midst, it would seem to render rather ludicrous their claim to ever be able to absorb "in all the diversity of their identities and traditions" the people of Tiger’s Bay, or the Shankill Road or Portadown.

Having now begun to speak out and make their case, the Republic’s oldest minority is faced with a long road ahead. On the one hand there is the campaign for individual rights – such as the right to British citizenship. On the other hand, much of what the minority aspires to affects not just the individual, but rather Irish society as a whole. Sacred cows on all sides face slaughter. In asserting that Ireland is a part of these islands, rather than apart from them, the minority poses a direct challenge to the sacredest cow of all. There is much to be done - and interesting times ahead.

© David Christopher 2002 Reproduced with permission Print This Page 


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