- So where are you from?
- Ireland.
- Where?
- Ireland. It’s beside Britain.
- British?
- No, from Ireland. Next door to Britain. But it’s its own country.
- Ah.
- I’m not British.
Have you ever wondered about the Irish peoples pride in their country? It would seem that meeting an Irish person, they are adamant that they are not British. In fact it is many times more important to them that they are not British rather than Irish. I have come across this only once before: when meeting Canadians. Canadians are proud of not being American; something that the vast majority of people in the world can claim.
It is the absolute hatred of one for the other which can cause this sense of pride (perhaps we can call it ‘non-pride’). In Ireland this is generally channelled through a politically nationalist sentiment. The continuing hatred of Britain is felt necessary, not for any political, ideological, economic purposes (or indeed differences) – but solely for a collective consciousness of being not British. Our nationalism is therefore, in fact, based not on our being Irish, but on our not being British.
We have no differences in culture, only currency. I have yet to hear and explanation of the differences between the Irish and the British excepting the one which I will deal with here. Otherwise, today we behave the same way at football matches, are equally Euroskeptic and consume the same products.
In fact the one thing which really distinguishes us is our collective inferiority complex. A part of not being British (i.e. being Irish) is the everyday carrying of historical baggage. Fuel for precious anti-Briticisms. It is our negative political attitude of begrudgery which defines us, so to speak. Obviously this smacks loudly of typical Irish nationalism. But at once the Irish are politically free and distinct from Britain and servile to her. We Irish gladly shop in Tesco, Londis and Argos. We speak English, and often claim to speak a ‘better’ form of English than our former colonial masters.
In addition to being the only EU nation with a history of being colonised, we have the other rare quality of having no ethnic difference (and hence little cultural difference) from our oppressors.
Where does this all come from? Why does Irish society operate in such a strange way? When in doubt, continue to blame the British. If there’s one thing we learnt from the British it’s how to cast blame. It is their yoke on this island which has caused the said infliction. Firstly, the Irish are obsessed with the British and have been for all of our modern history. The British are all we have. There is no substantial relationship between Ireland and any other of our European neighbours, nor has been in modernity. And it is the nature of this relationship which is solely responsible for our inferiority complex. We have even forgotten about our relationship with other countries, except America.
Secondly, our history of the medieval period is never mentioned. In fact it didn’t arise in history class when I was in school. The Isle of Saints and Scholars – those who kindled the torch of knowledge – translated Homer, and brought their knowledge to Europe north and south in the form of monasticism (and perhaps even America) in a time of the deepest scientific and cultural recession is forgotten. We were the most gracious of all colonialists – bringing knowledge and spirituality, rather than industrial labour division and class conflict. It is related that we had no Renaissance, but forgotten that we didn’t need one.
Thirdly, in a subversive twist, it is the Irish who in turn have a yolk on the inferiority complex. We cannot let it go. If it was ever taken from us, we would be on our knees begging for its reinstatement. It is - again - the only thing we have. It is the way we manifest our hatred of the British – in the profound depths of our collective subconscious. But having freed ourselves from the British domination so long ago, why are the Irish still behaving in this way? It would seem that we are immensely proud of our independence, our culture and our heroes, so where does this inferiority complex now get its power? Why do we need it? Is it the case that there is a subconscious common agreement that we are in fact inferior to the British, and that this phenomenon is so deeply ingrained in our culture that we are to feel this way forever?
Perhaps the Irish are caught in a dilemma between being eternally inferior to our domineering neighbours and being the same as British ourselves. The latter is the event of absurdity if it were put to any Irishman, and so we are left no other choice: in order to be non-British - and hence proud of our difference with Britain – we feel the need to behave like an inferior race. An act of self-flagellation but without the sacrificial and religious aspects: humility for humility's sake. It is inferiority that defines us, rather than something that we have adopted. And because it defines us, it makes us proud. Without it we are nothing different from our despised neighbours. We are left stuck with this negative vibration, as if addicted to it. Roddy Doyle elegantly subverts the phenomenon of the underdog into a source of pride-in-solidarity: The Irish are the Blacks of Europe, the Dubliners are the Blacks of Ireland, and we Northsiders are the Blacks of Dublin. So say it once and say it loud: ‘I’m Black, and I’m proud’.
- How is the weather there?
- Great, except the last ten years or so have been very bad.
The inferiority complex is manifested in our annual prediction of a good summer, when to judge on our other summers – all of them are bad. We talk about rainy summers as exceptions rather than accept them as a regularity. An uninterrupted string of exceptions leading into both past and future. Each spring we again fool ourselves into thinking that we are due our usual Mediterranean dose of weather soon. And included in this cycle is our collective neglect of the beautiful high pressure that provides sunny days for weeks every spring. We do not want to be content.
- You know, we beat the English once in a football game.
- Really?
- Yes, in 1988. The goal was scored by Ray Houghton.
- But isn’t he from Scotland?
- Yes, I mean no. He’s Irish.
- No, I’m quite sure that Houghton is Scottish.
- Well, maybe. But I don’t care because he scored while playing for Ireland.
In any sporting event we are thrilled when we expect to lose. If we expect to win it is always completely against the odds. This is followed by the Irish representative losing and the Irish psyche is plunged back perhaps even deeper into the abyss of the same psychological situation. A never-ending spiral of negativity, self-doubt. When this doesn’t happen, for example the game where the Irish finally beat the English in European championships in 1988 (after 800 years of near misses). This event was used for an advertisement which was broadcast towards the end of 2008. We haven’t beaten them since (with the exception of Feb 1995 when the English fans got the upper hand and the match was called off), and it doesn’t look likely that we will again soon.
Take, for example the 2008 game between Ireland and Brazil. For weeks leading up to the match the national broadcaster was telling its subjects that the Irish would be able to surprise them, steal one off them by a mistake on their part. It is not the game we would be winning, nor the defeat of the best team in the world that we wanted, nor the overthrowing of those whose skills we have the utmost respect for. No, it is the freedom from the inferiority complex, if even for several moments (until the referee calls the goal an off-side). The common unconscious belief, it would seem, is that freedom from the inferiority complex can only be achieved in a single absurd surprise event. It is the audacity of a national event in the face of insignificance, of Ireland being put on a map as those who did something other than be ruled by the British for others to see. Needless to say, we lost 1 – 0.
The Irish behaviour at sporting events is obsessed with the British. At once we hate them and copy them. Our behaviour is a mirror-representation of theirs. We get drunk (like the British we confuse drunkenness with sport), sing abusive songs, stand for our quasi-sacred national anthem, but never remember the words. Our anthem like all anthems bears no relation to the country which it represents, as all anthems are alike. Indeed it could just as easily be British when one takes into account harmony, melody, rhythm. In fact Irish behaviour is British.
- What language do Irish people speak?
- English. We have our own language too, but we would rather not use it.
- Why not?
- Nobody in Ireland can speak it.
The only thing that our anthem has to do with Ireland is the text which - being in Irish - nobody can remember nor understand (the phenomenon of not understanding our own language is, of course, due to the British, but only partially as we have completely miseducated ourselves in this way and I would not be surprised if it could be proven that we have done this deliberately and subconsciously).
Even those who have tight connections with the republican movement do not use the Irish language. As language is the first part of any post-oppression cultural revival, this movement is hence based not on culture nor politics, but hatred and begrudgery.
The ideas of those mentioned are fully out of date: the very idea of ‘Us, Ourselves’; to be free of not only the yolk of the British (of which we are free), but of the psychological remains; to prevent emigration; to hate and fear the European Union; to be a physically whole and self-sufficient Ireland. Unfortunately, we are now globalised. Another problem is the fear that while removing the inferiority complex, we will essentially become British – an outcome that no Irishman wants even if they do agree that Ireland needs to be more post-nationalist.
- But isn’t Ireland part of Britain?
- It was, but not anymore.
- Really?
- Yes. In the same way that India was part of Britain, and it isn’t any more.
- Ah, but surely that’s not the same...
- Yes – exactly the same.
It would also be immensely convenient if the Irish nationalist thinkers on this island were to stop preaching their warped history. The continual remembrance of lost heroes of the 1916 rising who effectively failed us and got themselves killed invokes a very particular form of pride in the individual. It is a selective, bastardised and reified history. It would be more constructive to remember and repeat the campaigns of O’Connell for example, or the cultural wealth that this country has given to the world in the past. It is worth noting here that the last public act of Bertie Ahern as Taoiseach was a speech at the 1916 commemoration. I find it particularly apt that Bertie Ahern would remember a national failure in the spirit of Irish nationalism before being forced to resign over a series of inexplicable payments.
Despite our nationalism, we are increasingly supportive of the presence of border with Britain on this island. It has been recently announced on RTE news that the average product is 51% more expensive in the Republic of Ireland. It will be the forced (or lured-in) affinity with ‘the other’ that finally destroys our nationalism. Through economics in much the same way as the European Union ridded itself of nationalism.
The inferiority complex also present within the internal politics of the Republic and manifested transparently by communities such as those who support politicians such as Beverly Flynn, Willie O’Dea, Jackie Healy-Rae and Bertie Ahern. These people are so proud of the fact that they’re deservedly insignificant towns and town lands are being represented in the ‘big smoke’ that they cannot accept the obvious stupidity of their representatives as fact. The fact that there exists 6,779 people (presuming the vote wasn’t rigged) voted for a person who assisted in tax evasion demonstrated that there is something inherently wrong - or at least inexplicably unusual - with the Irish psyche. The result is blinkered bigotry and refusal to think critically of those who are regressing the country for the benefit of their own pockets. Irish politics is corrupt and classist.
But the public on the other hand are as bad: we demand nothing from our representatives; repeatedly vote for and support our incompetent and impotent politicians; and vent anger by wantonly insignificant means such as calling radio talk show host Joe Duffy. The Irish public have no nerve and no guts. We let ourselves be treated no differently by our contemporary stupid and incompetent politicians than we did under the British. We put up with it year after year, for 90 years now, without knowing that we should stand up for ourselves. We expect not to be listened to. Therefore when we have a representative we get more than we expect. Not looking a gift-horse in the mouth, we demand nothing, and in turn expect nothing. On the other hand, when there is media coverage of our local representative up come the hairs on the backs of our necks. There he is, representing us! I feel so proud that my up-to-now miniscule and insignificant vote is being employed. It is not unlike parents at a playschool nativity play. And the politicians’ behaviour often is not unlike that of the children.
Take for example the Celtic Tiger. I understand that perhaps it is too early yet to be speaking of this period as if it was a closed chapter in our history, but our newspapers persist in telling us so. The sudden gift of money flooded the island. What happened? Those who were capable of getting their hands on some, who discovered money, including our esteemed government, also discovered opulence. There was clearly no idea about what money was, but a feeling arose, particularly on the Southside of Dublin that it is a limitless resource. It was also felt, it would seem, that money was something to be proud of, to be demonstrated, to be screamed aloud. We had reversed our seemingly natural predicament in a gawdy display, clouded by the euphoric opaqueness of überwealth. In our ecstasy we saw ourselves, so-to-speak, through a glass darkly. All remembrance of relative poverty was immediately historicised as if our nation had suddenly donned Technicolor. A clear instance of this subversion can be found in the sub-title of Tom Garvin’s 2005 book: Why was Ireland so Poor for so Long?
And through this period, Ireland managed to be socially underdeveloped. The Celtic Tiger years were marred by crass greed. Nothing changed for the good of the country such as the health service, transport, education, poverty reliefs such as homeless shelters. These fundamental cornerstones were maintained. That is all. The public money went into bureaucracy, impotent tribunals, and the pockets of our overpaid politicians. It’s as if we are deliberately underdeveloping our own country for our own collective detriment. As if we secretly respect Britain, hold the Queen in the highest esteem. As if we need to be non-British by being regressive, non-functional and barbarically wasteful. After miraculously overthrowing the British, the Irish gradually underdeveloped their entire country. Our technological regression before the Celtic Tiger made us more non-British than even the supposition that we are Celtic made us.
The British left Ireland after having almost completely stamped out our culture. We were left to invent everything Irish and this is seen today in the awful trinket stores of Dublin, Galway and Killarney, selling inflatable hammers and lepreachaun key-rings; in the droves of tourists queing up outside St. James’s Gate. It is seen by the sober on St. Patrick’s Day as they pass those who fight on the street in broad daylight – enacting the American-imposed nineteenth-century stereotype (red hair, whiskey, cards and brawls). Executing the satirical comics in an invented reality which in turn verifies the reasons behind that now-dated racism, justifying it.
Knowing that most features of our recently made-up Irishness is fake, we miserably cling to it anyway. Our ex-pat diaspora do not, I believe suffer from the Irish inferiority complex. Forever in exile, they have shed the atmosphere of self humility and impotence from their auras.
The solution? To crawl out from the oppression of political historical baggage, and to crawl out from our own dated and needless collective psyche discussed above. To be Europeans. To look at our benefactors without the hierarchical nature that is artificially sustained in our culture. To walk the piers of Dun Laoghaire, grateful to speak English, in the hope that we will speak Irish, for the two are not mutually exclusive.
