Life’s far too precious to be ambivalent about violence

The first time I heard of Ariana Grande was last weekend when I saw a photo of the young singing star visiting the Glasnevin Museum and cemetery on the eve of her concert in Dublin. Apparently on Friday evening, she requested a guided tour of what is now surely one of the most historic and meaningful sites in Ireland. Little did Ariana know that the tranquility and dignity that she experienced and which rests gently on Glasnevin would be shattered four days later by the loathsome suicide bombing at her concert in Manchester – when a man loaded with explosives and hatred killed 22 innocents.

The guided tour that Ariana requested always ends at the powerful necrology wall, containing the names of the 495 people killed during the Easter Rising of 1916.

Ironically, exactly a week earlier, another famous visitor had stood in the same spot when Prince Charles and his wife Camilla had visited.

I was lucky enough to be present, primarily because of my admiration of the work of the Glasnevin Trust and also to hear their chairperson John Green make another powerful and thought-provoking speech.

He pointed out that every name on the wall told a story – and symbolically, he mentioned the 40 children aged 16 and under whose names appear on the wall, the first time they were all officially memorialised.

John Green – an accountant and volunteer chairperson of the cemetery Trust gently urged everyone to read the names on the wall – ‘and take from it what you will’.

Prince Charles later described the Glasnevin event as the highlight of his week-long visit to Ireland.

And so what are the lessons from the horror visited on the fans of Ariana Grande – many of them children – at the Manchester Arena last Monday night?

Firstly, it must be a reminder of the unspeakable horror that violence, be it by an individual, a group or state, visits on the victims, relatives and friends.

Secondly, we must incorporate into our schools a deeper discussion and understanding of the effects of violence. Be it in civics class or history lessons, more emphasis must be paid to the individual stories and the ramifications of violence.

In my research on the children killed in 1916 or the more recent Troubles in Ireland, I am struck by the amount of distress, pain and death visited on the friends and relatives of those who die violently.

For example, in the Northern Ireland Troubles, it is now estimated that 115,000 people lost a close relative and that two thirds of the population directly experienced at least one traumatic episode in the decades between 1968 and 1998.

Thirdly, after the Manchester massacre of the innocents, we must question our own ambivalent attitude to violence here in Ireland.

While this may be an inconvenient truth, it does deserve to be addressed calmly in a way that will lead to enlightenment rather than hatred.

In turn, we can only hope that these actions might make everyone from heads of state to individuals think very long and very hard about using violence in any circumstances.

Life is simply too precious for anything less.