At an event in Trinity last year discussing what it means to be Irish, an Irish-Nigerian speaker claimed that being Irish is about being welcoming, compassionate toward outsiders, and accepting of difference. Of course, any definition must be, by definition, exclusionary, which begs the question: what, in contrast, does it means to be Nigerian—and why did he presume those traits are lacking in other peoples?
I agree that, comparatively speaking, the Irish tend to be disproportionately welcoming, compassionate, and tolerant of difference. But I also know Irish people who aren’t. Given my scepticism around migration policy, I suspect the speaker might see me as lacking in compassion or tolerance. But I doubt he’d say I’m not Irish. Ironically though, other Irish people have often challenged my views on migration on those grounds: “But you have a Norman surname—would you deport the Normans too?”
“Au revoir, mes amis Irlandais.”
By the grace of God, seven of my eight great-grandparents had Gaelic surnames, the outlier being Keating. I take this as a mark of successful integration. Yet this is a recurring line of argument from those that seek to dilute what it means to be Irish: the idea that, because of historical migrations like the Norman invasion, there is no distinct Irish ethnic identity. In the words of Bríona Nic Dhiarmada, we are “mongrels.”
It’s odd that Nic Dhiarmada would claim this insight emerged during work on her documentary, given that genetic studies seem to completely contradict the claim. The Irish DNA Atlas identified ten geographically distinct genetic clusters in the Irish population—seven of which were distinctly Gaelic. The study also found that neither Viking or Norman ancestry left a significant genetic imprint; rather, genetic data suggests a hegemonic lineage, with around 70% persistence across generations.
A 2010 study on Ireland’s population structure found that the country’s relative isolation resulted in less genetic variation than continental Europe, and lower haplotype diversity than even isolated parts of Europe such as Scotland. Similarly, a 2018 study showed Ireland’s genetic landscape to be significantly more homogenous than Britain’s, with negligible gene flow from external sources. It’s difficult to overstate, compared to almost all of Europe, how uniquely homogenous the Irish are.
Beyond genetics, we have the historical record. Apart from localized settlement by English, Norman, Scottish, Palatine, Dutch, and Huguenot groups, migration into Ireland was almost non-existent from the time of the Famine onward. At the time of the 1916 Rising, it was reported that there were only 1,800 people in Ireland who weren’t Irish or British. Among them: 14 Chinese, 12 Egyptians, 36 South Americans, and one Samoan.
As Piaras Mac Éinrí and Allen White noted in their paper on immigration into the Republic of Ireland: “Immigration into Ireland was close to non-existent. Apart from small numbers of labour migrants and a limited number of family reunification cases for foreign nationals, the only other source of migrants in the decades after the Second World War was through refugee resettlement schemes.”
It’s difficult to avoid the suspicion that those making the claim that we are a “mongrel” people are not merely presenting neutral historical facts, but pursuing a broader ideological agenda. Moreover, more recent efforts to reframe Ireland’s marginal and overwhelmingly negative experience with migration, such as with the Normans, as something to be celebrated is absurd.
The Normans may be part of our history, but that doesn’t mean they’re part of our identity. Despite a negligible degree of intermixture, the Normans were a foreign and invading people. Even if the genetic evidence were less clear – or even if it indicated higher levels of Norman admixture – it wouldn’t make a difference, because there is no Norman ethnic consciousness in Ireland today.
I have this sense of secondhand embarrassment, when elements of our academic, political, and media classes attempt to portray us as heirs to some imagined Norman legacy in cringeworthy historical cosplay.
Ironically, it reveals a certain provincialism—a kind of cultural insecurity. It suggests a dissatisfaction with the actual historical tradition we are heirs to, leading some within our liberal classes to reach for an imagined cosmopolitan, progressive, “Europhillic” lineage through the Normans. Yet Gaelic literature from the period makes clear that our ancestors lived rich, intellectually vibrant lives, something that was not improved by the Norman invasion.
Those we do receive a national tradition from, the native Gaels, drew sharp distinctions between us and the foreign Gall. Kieran Cuddihy recently claimed that to be “native Irish” was to be “White with an Irish accent,” which imposes an American lexicon on our own self understanding, and is a position our ancestors would have vehemently denied. Irish identity has been far more discerning. In 1616, Lochlainn Ó Dálaigh’s poem Whither Have Gone the Gaels? lamented the influx of foreigners during the plantations:
“Atá againn ’na n-ionad—dioraim uaibhreach eisidhan,
D’fhuil Gall don ghasraidh bhannaigh—Saxain ann is Albannaigh.”
“In their place we have a conceited and impure swarm:
Of foreigners’ blood—of an excommunicated rabble—
Saxons are there, and Scotsmen.”
Similarly, Aonghus Fionn Ó Dálaigh’s On Éire laments the native Irish marrying outsiders:
“Saxons, Welsh, Burgundians, even Moors—sinful the deed!—Scots and Franks!”
The medieval saga The War of the Irish with the Foreigners draws a stark contrast between the Gaels—“champions, brave soldiers, men of high deeds and renown”—and the Vikings, as “cunning, warlike, poisonous, murderous, hostile Danars; bold, hard-hearted Denmarkians.” This distinction was maintained even though the foreigners in question had been in Ireland for over two centuries.
The sentiment, or the intensity of national feeling would be familiar to most Irish people today, even if we don’t describe it so explicitly. We still perceive the difference instinctively between those that have integrated and those that haven’t. The term “New Irish” is almost an admission of this, that there is a distinction between us ,the Irish, and the newcomer. And if we don’t perceive it, the foreigners certainly do. The creation of ethnic based facebook community groups come election time and minority interest groups betray at best a dual loyalty and at worst a complete lack of a desire to integrate.
A conception of nationality framed in abstractions— Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité in France or “British values” in the YooKay—has a distinctly foreign feel to it. I’m not aware of any Irish thinker who tried to define Irishness solely through values alone. It wouldn’t even make sense; the values of a modern Irish person differ starkly from those of an Irish person just fifty years ago. However, what has remained consistent over more than a millennium is the presence of an Irish people. So any definition of Irishness must transcend any transient abstraction based qualifications like being welcoming, liking Tayto, or “having the craic.”
This isn’t to suggest that to be ethnically Irish is the only way of being Irish. As it would be absurd to suggest people like Wolfe Tone, Parnell or Davis weren’t Irish. Or that Franks, Burgundians or hard-hearted Denmarkians couldn’t become Irish. Nationality is perhaps best understood as more than the sum of its parts—cultural, linguistic, genetic, historical, religious. However, if you remove one element, the sense of national consciousness may be weakened. For instance, not speaking Irish doesn’t make someone not Irish—but it arguably weakens their connection to a national consciousness.
The irony of liberalism is that those who seek to reduce Irishness to vacuous clichés like “white with an Irish accent,” “tolerant of difference,” or “having the craic,” make it harder for newcomers to integrate. In order to become Irish, there actually has to be something to integrate into. Undermining or deconstructing the foundations of Irish identity makes that integration nearly impossible.
The most effective way for others to become Irish is for the Irish themselves to maintain a strong sense of self—and to insist on an Ireland that is Irish.
This is the reason there are no Norman-Irish today and that’s a good thing.
Dean Céitinn