We remember the heroes but not the victims
After the Dáil centenary pomp, it seems...
Next Wednesday, two statues to the legendary Dubliners singer, Luke Kelly, will be unveiled in Dublin to mark the 35th anniversary of his untimely death at the age of 43 in 1984. With a bridge named after him in the city and a memorial to him in the Whitehall suburb where he was born, he has become the most memorialised citizen of the last decade.
The whole issue of how we commemorate people and events in history is topical at the moment as we look back to the foundation of the State 100 years ago. It also raises some uncomfortable questions which still have not been addressed.
Let me begin with memorials. In response to my piece here last Sunday about the state of Irish theatre one reader wrote: ‘At a time when anyone who would even look crooked at the British after 1916 is having a plaque mounted in their honour, the house at 422 North Circular Road, Dublin 7, where between the years 1923 and 1926 Seán O’Casey wrote his three masterworks – The Shadow Of A Gunman, Juno And The Paycock and The Plough And The Stars – remains without a plaque to acknowledge that fact, is a national disgrace.’
The writer has a point. Surely, O’Casey deserves a statue and a plaque? Naming a few unconnected streets and a bridge after him is hardly a proper remembrance.
In the week when the State spent a lot of money commemorating the beginning of the War of Independence at Soloheadbeg, where two policemen were murdered – with the IRA man who shot them later bemoaning the fact that there hadn’t been more of them in the convoy to kill – some uncomfortable questions about our history have yet to be asked or even debated. Ironically, it was Seán O’Casey who first raised the issues of the use of violence for political ends, a hundred years ago when he opposed the Easter Rising.
He subsequently wrote about the inevitable civilian deaths:
‘You would be unknown forever, you died without a word of praise, you would be buried without even a shadowy ceremony, no bugle will call your name, no gunshot will let loose brave echoes over your grave, you will not be numbered among the accepted slain.’ How right he was. Even during the 1916 Centenary celebrations there was no debate about the use of physical force for political ends.
And in truth, the actions of 1916 – where, it should be stated, uniformed combatants faced each other – has been the historical justification for violence up to this present day.
The long-term impact of violent combat on all involved has never been fully debated. To our shame we do not have an official death toll from 1916 – let alone the Troubles that began in 1968 on this island.
Many of those who died in the name of Ireland, while remembered by their families, have been publicly forgotten.
The State has dedicated a lavish budget for the commemorations – no expense was spared for the event last Monday, which saw Dawson Street shut for the day as guests shuttled from one reception to another.
It is a question not just for Ireland, but it does need to be asked, when is violence justified for political ends?
Every now and again large corporations take it onto themselves to ‘rebrand’. As Aer Lingus spends millions on a rebrand -– which to most people means painting the outside of the planes white instead of green – is it time to ask big corporations, instead of rebranding to improve their image, why not give the money to the new National Children’s Hospital? That would create priceless goodwill.