Wetting the shamrock
St Patrick's Day is primarily an occasion for exiles and emigrants to enjoy that nebulous thing called "Irishness". To be sure, the green beer and the "Kiss-me-I'm-Irish" hats mightily annoy those who scorn sentimentality, but these people should lighten up a bit. Purism in regard to celebrating identity ends up resembling Puritanism. But that's very Irish, too, because behind the image of conviviality that the Irish like to present to the world, there's no shortage of self-hatred. Anyone who has spent time reading this blog will be familiar with a troll called "Ted" who typifies this phenomenon. Ireland, for him, is crawling with snakes. St Patrick didn't banish them after all. Another big lie.
And there's no doubt that there's much about Ireland in its latest manifestation that's contradictory, which makes the celebration of its achievements all the more complicated. But, achievements they are, nonetheless. One example: This time last year a consortium of Irish investors led by Derek Quinlan went to London and bought the Savoy Hotel, the Savoy Theatre, Claridge's, the Connaught, the Berkeley and Simpon's-on-the-Strand for £1 billion. These bastions of Britishness, these institutions of England's ruling class were acquired by Irish Catholics. And, yes, it is important to mention their religion because 120 years ago when the British Empire was in its heyday and the operas of Gilbert and Sullivan were being performed at the Savoy, the first Home Rule Bill, which would have granted a measure of freedom to Ireland's majority, was defeated in the House of Commons. Today, the people who were regarded as unfit to rule themselves, have created an economy that's enjoyed a decade of enviable growth with immigrants queuing at the door, eager to share the prosperity.
But that's not the only conundrum. When President George W. Bush greets the McCartney sisters today in the White House, Ireland's schizoid personality will be exposed for all to see. The five sisters represent something truly admirable — fearlessness in the face of terrorism — but the men who murdered their brother are members of a gangster movement that enjoys widespread support throughout the island. You cannot have the parliamentary and the paramilitary in a healthy society, yet a significant number of Irish people seem to want both. A paradox.
While we wait for the real Ireland to stand up and account for itself, we'll wet the shamrock, as they say. This is rather difficult when one is observing a Lenten fast that excludes alcohol but there is a tradition of allowing an exception for St Patrick's Day. Sláinte!
Comments
Begorra, Bejayzus, Eamo! Happy St Patrick's Day! Sure rip-off Oireland is boomin. Not to worry that Dublin's constantly gridlocked and everyone's up to their eyes in debt. Ireland today is a country of work stress, binge-drinking, spiralling debt, homelessness and mounting drug abuse.
Nowadays of course it's cheaper to drink a pint of Goodness abroad, where atleast ya can still enjoy a smoke with your pint should you feel the urge. Oireland's so great that Eamo the Bushhugger has decided to live in München instead where he's surrounded by Bushhaters, latte-sippers and that leftest German media. Tis a holy terror. Poor Eamo was embarrassed when the Great Leader didn't get a hero's welcome in Mainz recently. Twas left to the wackos from David's Medienkritik (all two of them) to roll out the red carpet for the global village idiot.
As for Oireland crawling with snakes? Maybe he means the 'academics' of Oireland's new think-tank, the Freedom Institute. Oh puke. I checked it out. When people start quoting Reagan and Thatcher it's time for the fingers to go down the throat. Makes for funny reading though.
Romantic Ireland's dead and gone, Eamo. You know the rest...
Posted by: Ted | March 17, 2005 11:57 AM
Ted - you promised everyone that you wouldn't visit this site anymore. Do us all a favour, and try and keep your promises.
Eamonn - Happy Paddy's Day! Although I can't stand stout, I'll have some whiskey tonight to wet the shamrock.
Posted by: Jean | March 17, 2005 2:57 PM
My Dublin-born and raised mother always 'broke the fast' for St.Patrick's Day. I, too, had given up spirits for Lent, but then the cat had surgery, a son's friend committed suicide, and life kept banging me over the head, trying to hammer in the tune I cannot seem to learn. Gregorian chant it's not. Perhaps some kind of contrapuntal intricacy that leaves me wanting a glass of wine at night.
So my dear beloved brought home a bottle of what he terms "Dymphna's Ruin."
To hell with Lent.
~D
I think you should keep Ted. He's proof there are leprechauns. Blog lepers, anyway.
Posted by: Dymphna | March 19, 2005 8:12 PM
In my sweet Irish modesty, I forgot to ask you to look at *my* St. Patrick's Day post:
http://gatesofvienna.blogspot.com/2005/03/sinn-fein-plays-dominos.html
~D
Posted by: Dymphna | March 19, 2005 8:16 PM