On St Patrick’s Day three years ago Mary Lou McDonald, the leader of Sinn Fein, marched behind a banner saying “England get out of Ireland” at the parade in New York City. The extent and ferocity of the ensuing criticism must have come as a surprise to her. Simon Coveney, the minister for foreign affairs, called the message “offensive” while Alliance leader Naomi Long said it was “stupid”. Whether by coincidence or correlation, Sinn Fein dropped five points to 13 per cent support in a Red C opinion poll two weeks later.
McDonald promptly apologised for any offence caused by the banner. “I have blood relatives myself who are English, and English people are very welcome in Ireland,” she clarified. It was a clear demonstration of how sensitive Sinn Fein is to public opinion these days, and that it is prepared to retreat in the face of criticism.
Had McDonald issued a press release calling on England to get out of Ireland, instead of walking behind a banner, it would now be deleted — or “archived”, as Sinn Fein would have it — along with thousands of other pronouncements that were recently purged from the party’s website, like former Stalin loyalists from Soviet photographs. Micheál Martin, the taoiseach, has called it “kind of Orwellian”, a reference to the rewriting of history at the Ministry of Truth in the novel 1984.
What prompted Sinn Fein to exercise its “right to be forgotten” may well be finding itself on the wrong side of history after the Russian invasion of Ukraine. The party has long held Nato in contempt, a remnant of the socialist and anti-imperialist policies it advocated in the 1970s and 1980s. In 2014, for example, the TD Seán Crowe said the alliance “needs to be disbanded”. This visceral opposition to Nato has contorted Sinn Fein’s foreign policies into all sorts of weird shapes.
In 2018, McDonald found herself alongside the Russian ambassador Yury Filatov in challenging the Irish government’s expulsion of a single envoy after the attempted murder, using a nerve agent, of Sergei Skripal and his daughter Yulia in Salisbury. Professing herself dissatisfied with information coming from a “foreign” security intelligence service, McDonald demanded to see “evidence” to justify the government’s decision, which she said “should be dictated by Irish security analysis”. The bizarre implication was that Irish experts would be sent to Salisbury to seek forensic evidence linking the Novichok nerve agent to Russia. Statements she made at the time, including that the expulsion of the diplomat was somehow “a flagrant disregard for Irish neutrality”, have disappeared from the Sinn Fein website as part of the online purge.
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Wisely deciding not to double down on any sneaking sympathies it had for Russia, Sinn Fein has joined in condemning President Putin’s invasion. Always with an eye to the passing bandwagon, it will have seen the outpouring of public sympathy in Ireland for Ukraine and its people, and the revulsion towards Russia. In fact you could easily imagine Sinn Fein, in typically populist mode, eventually excoriating the Irish government for not doing more to help Ukrainians. The party is so anxious to please, and so keen not to offend, especially the middle classes who will be crucial to the next general election, that almost any policy reversal seems possible. It is difficult now to imagine McDonald giving an oration, as she did in 2003, at the statue of Seán Russell, a former IRA chief of staff who travelled to Nazi Germany to collaborate in a planned invasion of Ireland and who, fortunately for his homeland, died in a U-boat on his way back. Sinn Fein has already jettisoned several key platforms, such as opposing European integration, which led to it urging a “no” vote in many EU referendum campaigns; and even the previous “red line” of a border poll within five years.
This is all in preparation for being in the next government, perhaps even leading a coalition, with McDonald as taoiseach. Being in power involves making compromises, and Sinn Fein is getting a head start. The biggest concession of all has not been made, however: an acknowledgement that the IRA’s 25-year campaign of violence was unnecessary and should not have been given political support. Sinn Fein can wipe all the websites and archives it likes, but nobody who lived through that period can forget its support for the “armed struggle”. It will remain an insurmountable obstacle to many voters.
Foreign money gives Ireland a shamrock-and-roll lifestyle
How unfortunate that Covid-stricken Micheál Martin missed what might be his only chance as taoiseach to meet the American president face to face on St Patrick’s Day. However, the photo opportunity with Joe Biden and a bowl of shamrock is just one moment in a week of opportunity for Ireland, not just in Washington but all over the world. What other nations would give to have the “soft” power of St Patrick to influence world leaders, open doors to business deals, and generate billions in tourism revenue.
After two years without White House visits or even St Patrick’s Day parades, Ireland bounced back this March 17. Greening the world was rightly deemed inappropriate in light of the horrors in Ukraine, but the annual opportunity to put Ireland centre stage and to reconnect with the 70 million people who claim Irish heritage was joyfully celebrated.
There were 33 ministerial visits in America, Europe and Australia. The good will and trade opportunities generated have helped Ireland soar ahead of competitor destinations for FDI (foreign direct investment). FDI in Ireland increased by €71 billion last year, despite Covid, and that was largely attributable to investment from North America. The value of inward investment into Ireland reached €1.09 trillion in 2021. More than 275,000 Irish people are employed here thanks to FDI, with just over half of the investments won last year going to rural locations.
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Before Covid changed the world, the St Patrick’s Festival was worth €72 million to the Irish economy, and €50 million of that went to Dublin. As Niall Gibbons, chief executive of Tourism Ireland, pointed out, Americans alone spent €2 billion on visits to Ireland each year prior to Covid. Add to that €4 billion from other visitors, and a total €5.9 billion was generated on the island of Ireland by 11.3 million tourists in 2019. To put that into perspective, Germany with a population of 83 million gets 1.7 million American tourists a year, about the same as us.
Some international visitors come because of Star Wars or Game of Thrones connections, but most want to experience the image of Ireland that is projected globally — the cosy pubs, green fields, pints of Guinness, the banter and the céad míle fáilte. They want to tick off the iconic sights, create pictures for Instagram and gather stories to tell friends and family, which in turn builds word-of-mouth recommendations and generates further tourism business. The past two years have shown us we should never take our “soft” power or our privilege for granted.
Cultural misapprehension
It’s said that members of the royal family believe the entire world smells of fresh paint. They must be equally convinced that Guinness is a cloudy brown drink with a rather flat head, undeserving of the reverence that attends its presentation. Ahead of a visit here, Prince Charles and Camilla have made the obligatory trip to the Irish Cultural Centre in London and had the compulsory stab at pulling a pint.
Despite having plenty of practice over the years, the prince’s pint wouldn’t have passed muster even in the busiest Temple Bar pub and, without waiting for it to settle, he gamely slugged a mouthful to a smattering of polite applause.
Charles’s rather bemused engagement with Irish culture — he also tried his hand at the bodhran — came as Sky News presenter Kay Burley showed some confusion of her own. Complimenting two Ukrainian refugees on their arrival in Dublin, she reckoned the British people were fully behind them. It seems we remain our neighbours’ greatest riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.
