The revolt that rattled the empire
The Irish Rising of 1916 resonates in SA’s own quest for freedom, writes Sue de Groot
THE Easter Rising that took place in Ireland in 1916 might not appear to have anything to do with South Africa but, in the words of Professor Briona Nic Dhiarmida, “any country that has gone through oppression and a revolution knows the story”.
Nic Dhiarmida, professor of Irish studies as well as of theatre and film studies at Indiana’s Notre Dame University, was in South Africa last week to introduce screenings of her film, 1916: The Irish Rebellion.
“The Rising has huge resonance in South Africa,” she said. “It’s a universal story: a small nation or people looking for independence, freedom and equality.”
Six months after his release from prison in 1990, Nelson Mandela made the first of several visits to Ireland. In a speech thanking the Irish for opposing the apartheid regime he said: “We too shall become a free people; we too shall have a country which will, as the great Irish patriots said in the proclamation of 1916, cherish all the children of the nation equally.”
Mandela was quoting from the Proclamation of the Provisional Government of the Irish Republic, first read by rebel leader PadraigPearse on the steps of Dublin’s post office on Easter Monday 1916. It also states: “The Republic guarantees religious and civil liberty, equal rights and equal opportunities to all its citizens.”
During that week, 485 people died. Pearse was shot by firing squad after the insurrection failed and the nationalists surrendered, one of 16 rebel leaders executed by the British. “Failed”, however, is a relative word. Historian Tim Pat Coogan, in his book 1916: The Easter Rising, writes: “Those executions changed Irish history.”
Five years later Ireland became a sovereign state, inspiring many other countries in their bids for independence and signalling the end of British colonialism. But six Irish counties — which we know as Northern Ireland — were kept by Britain, and the conflict that resulted left a bloody trail right into the first part of the 21st century.
One of Nic Dhiarmida’s goals was to put the events in a global context. “The ideals that animated the men and women of 1916 were not indigenous or unique to Ireland,” she said. “These were ideals that had come from the Enlightenment, the American War of Independence, the French Revolution.”
There was also a need, she said, to contextualise the Rising within World War 1. The last significant commemoration of the 1916 rebellion took place in 1966. Documentaries made to mark the half-century largely ignored the fact that 200 000 Irishmen, both unionist and nationalist, had fought in British army uniforms while their countrymen back home were taking up arms against the British.
Coverage of the Rising itself changed dramatically after 1966. “Fifty years ago the message was straightforward: these men were heroes and the only Irish patriots ever,” Nic Dhiarmida said. “Ten years later there was no state ceremony. It was banned in 1976 because the troubles had started. It went to demonisation or, at best, amnesia, for the next 30 years.”
Johannesburg resident Michael Connolly was not yet born in 1916 but his uncle Sean, an actor at WB Yeats’s Abbey Theatre, was among the first shot dead by British snipers during the Rising. Connolly’s father, George, was imprisoned for his part in the rebellion and upon release joined those protesting against partition in 1921.
In March, Connolly was a guest of the Irish government at the Dublin cer- emonies. He thinks the celebrations have not glorified violence, but have piqued interest in Irish history.
“A lot of the problem of understanding 1916 comes from what happened afterwards, why there was a civil war and so much animosity,” he said.
Nic Dhiarmida said the peace accord of 1998 and Queen Elizabeth’s landmark visit to Ireland in 2011 (a century since a British monarch — her grandfather George V — had last set foot on Irish soil) contributed to “a sense of generosity and a new inclusivity”.
Prominent South Africans have taken shelter in Ireland. The late Professor Kader Asmal, before returning to take up a post in Mandela’s cabinet, taught for 27 years in the law faculty at Trinity College, Dublin.
Asmal’s son Rafiq, who now lives in Cape Town, said growing up in Ireland shaped his social and political consciousness. “South Africa for me was pretty remote. My father always used to bang on about it, but it was one of those places that I didn’t expect ever to see. Our house was the headquarters of the Irish anti-apartheid movement, so I knew a lot about South Africa, but when I lived there I felt Irish. We were sometimes referred to as ‘blow-ins’ when we were upsetting people who didn’t want to be told not to play rugby against South Africa, but it was a fantastic place to grow up.”
In the 1980s, Kader Asmal supported the bitter two-and-a-half-year strike by Irish supermarket workers who refused to sell Outspan oranges. This culminated in Ireland’s ban on the import of South African produce, which stayed in place until apartheid ended.
“These weren’t radicals,” said Nic Dhiarmida. “They were young girls who packed shelves. They took a principled stand and they won.”
Their idealism can, she said, be likened to the courage of the 1916 rebels. “They showed us that it doesn’t matter how small we are or whether it seems a futile gesture: we’re going to do it anyway.”
They showed us that it doesn’t matter how small we are . . . we’re going to do it anyway