Untaming the Gael

(One might ask why I am using the English language in this article about the Irish language and identity. I long for the day when I can write as Gaeilge and a majority can understand me, but for now, I wish as many people as possible to be able to understand the following. I’ve included some focail Ghaeilge, so try and pick up a few! D’ailt as Gaeilge dem’ chuid, téigh go republicanyouth.org/articles, agus téigh go ‘Cine Céanna, sprioc chéanna’ nó ‘Bunreacht nua d’Éirinn nua’)

When nationalists, and others, are asked about why an Ghaeilge matters, we tend to say something generic and vague like “it’s our culture”, or “tír gan teanga, tír gan anam”. While there is no doubt these two statements are true, I find we do not appreciate the centrality of our national language to the broader Republican struggle, as we do with socialism, environmentalism, equality and other key facets of our movement. So what is it about an Ghaeilge that is so tábhachtach, so important? And what should our movement’s objectives be regarding the language? What can we learn from the history of her subjugation, and near extinction, and what can we learn from those who gave everything for seoid na hÉireann, the Irish Language?

The first thing to understand is that “it hath ever been the use of the conquerors to despise the language of the conquered”. As I’ve said before, Edmund Spenser was no ordinary colonialist. He was a key advisor and confidant of one of England’s most destructive monarchs, Elizabeth I. The demise of the Irish language, and other native languages ar fud an Domhain, was (is) no accident. In the same way the Famine was no accidental genocide, the gradual decline of spoken Irish was no accident. It was deliberate policy. In the same way England’s interference in Ireland led to the death of one million people from 1845-50, England also had a policy of linguacide. It was both a means and end of our colonizer’s objection to make Ireland a mere province, “as there will be no difference but the Irish sea betwixt us”, in the words of planter John Davies.

Why did this attempt at linguistic genocide happen in Ireland? As in all colonial instances, the aim of the coloniser is the accumulation of wealth and power. They exploit countries’ resources, using the natives to do so. There is also the whole idea, or excuse, of ‘civilising’ the uncivilised. We know this to be bizarre, as Ireland was one of Europe’s most educated and progressive societies before the Norman Conquest. “The Gaels must be redeemed from their wildness”, wrote Spenser. And this ‘redemption’ was to come in the form of cultural annihilation. We must also bear in mind that if England’s aim was the use of Ireland for exploitation and wealth, this could not have been done with a proud Irish people. Who would let a foreign entity steal their land, if they felt they were a distinct people, pobal ar leith? Therefore, the English state set about removing all elements of difference between the two national identities. And since the Irish language is the strongest ‘frontier’, according to Thomas Davis, it was she who would suffer the most.

So, how did they set about doing this? They did the same as all colonisers do, and we still see the impacts of this policy in popular culture. They make the colonised feel that their culture is firstly inferior, and secondly backward – not ‘modern’. When an imperialist takes a country, they make the country feel that they are economically dependent on them. We saw this recently when New Caledonia rejected independence from France. But when a people feel they are economically dependent on another, it soon follows that they feel culturally dependent. A population is forced into a form of inferiority complex, where their own culture is negatively compared to the culture of another. When you are forced, over centuries, to bow to a master, it is natural to begin to feel that he is your superior. As well as this, when the commercial, political, and most significantly, educational affairs of a society are conducted in English, and Irish is portrayed as a language for hell or for Connaught, it will be perceived as backward. It is a result of these attitudes, forced over centuries on Ireland, that we saw the huge decline of the language. An Gorta Mór, which reduced the population by two million, accelerated this demise.

The British education system, accurately entitled ‘the Murder Machine’ by an Piarsach, was another form of linguistic imperialism, directed at children. Irish was, of course, not taught up until the Westminster government was forced to make petty concessions in the early 20th century. Children were forced into a state of shame, that their language was one of the past, that their parents were illiterate and spoke a language of a by-gone age. The Free State education system not only allowed the continuation of this neglect of Irish, but assisted in its demise through the manner in which it was taught, the way it was portrayed in society, and the scandalous failure to continue the Gaelic Revival that had taken place. 

So, we have now established that meath na Gaeilge, the demise of the Irish language, was no accident. We have seen that the current state of the language is a direct result of centuries of imperialism. But why is this important, and where does it link in to the modern republican struggle?

The beginning and end, the alpha and the omega of Irish Republicanism, from its earliest stages, is the liberation of Ireland, “in all its parts”. This is both a means to, and an end of our overall objective which is Athghabháil na hÉireann, the decolonisation of Ireland. This decolonisation includes as its central tenets the ownership of Ireland for the people of Ireland – socialism. It includes the establishment of a Republic, a citizen based society – equality. It includes the just use of Ireland’s resources – egalitarian environmentalism. And it includes the Gaelicisation of Ireland, or in the words of the Democratic Programme of our first Dáil, the “training [of Irish people] as citizens of a free and Gaelic Ireland”. So I pose the question – if England tried to kill our language to exploit our country, is the solution not to do just the opposite - to revive our language to take ownership of our country? Irish identity isn’t just an aspect of the republican struggle, it’s what we’re all about. “A nation should guard its language more than its territories – ‘tis a surer barrier, a more important frontier, than fortress or river”. Our demands are most moderate, we want the complete reinstatement of the Irish language as the first spoken language of the country, so that we can truly call ourselves a free people. Pobal saor. We want people to gossip about their neighbours in Irish, children to complain about the TV remote in Irish, people to have dreams, nightmares, phone calls, fights, reunions, breakdowns, thoughts, ponderings, craic, fun, happy times, sad times all as Gaeilge. Because it’s only in your own language can you know who you are. And hand in hand with this goes our complete commitment to anti-racism, inclusion and complete opposition to discrimination based on ethnicity. Tá an Ghaeilge do chách.

So, all of that is well and good in philosophical terms, but what can we do in practice to ensure that this happens, and that our language does not become another O’Rahilly house? (The destruction of which was a physical manifestation of what has been happening here for centuries). I am tempted to simply say, ná habair é, déan é – go out and learn Irish, speak it, teach whatever you know to those who don’t. But that would be too preachy, too cliché. Instead, I will draw your attention to a place a few miles south of Belfast, namely Long Kesh, an Cheis Fhada. In that prison, from 1976-81, the most epic prison battle in history took place. The republican prisoners took on the cross of the movement, battling the tactic of criminalisation, and by extension, saving the soul of Irish republicanism. In those horrible conditions, which we’ve all heard so much about, but which we ógánaigh cannot even begin to contemplate, the Irish language took root. In those foul, vile surroundings, an Ghaeilge was taught and learned, by Irish republicans who had their freedom taken from them. They turned to our country’s language when their freedom was taken. Just as Ireland should turn to our language since our freedom is taken. 

So, mar fhocal scóir, I ask – you might not have liked it in school, you might be too busy, you might not see the point – but if hundreds of men and women who had no pens, paper or anything of the sort, could learn their national language, begin the process of resurrecting a language hurt by centuries of attack, could breath life into the soul of a wounded Ireland, a raibh a clann féin tar éis í a dhíol, then what is stopping us taking on the mantle, and fighting for an Ghaeilge? Let us reverse the process of cultural genocide. Let us untame the Gael, let us remove the “chain on the soul” that has kept us restrained for too long. “They think they have pacified Ireland.” But they have not.