Introduction: The Reinvention of Ireland: A Critical Perspective Peadar Kirby, Luke Gibbons and Michael Cronin
Ireland reinvented itself during the 1990s, boldly proclaimed the 1999 strategy document of the National Economic and Social Council (NESC), a three-year outline of economic and social policy agreed by all the social partners (government, business, farmers groups, trade unions and the community and voluntary sector). Though the NESC makes no reference to the source of the concept, the notion of Ireland reinventing itself is drawn from the work of Professor Rory O'Donnell, whose extensive writings on Ireland's social partnership have invested the concept with major international significance as an innovative model of economic and social governance. This led O'Donnell to turn his attention to culture.
Lamenting what he described as the excessive and unhappy dualism between the economic and the cultural, the material and the moral in contempor- ary Ireland, he defined a new project to reunite our account of the cultural and the economic, the normative and the material, the actual and the ideal. In offering a cultural reading of Ireland's immediate past, he drew on Kiberd's notion that modern Ireland was invented in the cultural revival of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries (Kiberd 1995).
O'Donnell co-wrote in 1998 that Ireland and the Irish people continue the journey of re-invention at the close of the twentieth century (Laffan and O'Donnell 1998: 175). In April 1999 he specified further in claiming that changes in the public sphere such as European integration and social partnership can be seen as part of the reinvention of Ireland, a newculture closely related to the successful economy (O'Donnell 1999: 32). This new culture is the subject of this book.
The contributors map its contours in different areas of Irish life and from different disciplinary perspectives. While the authors adopt their own stances towards this new culture – stances not always in agreement with one another – what unites them is their critical engagement with their subjects, placing these in an historical context and tracing the forces that have given them their current shape and form, an approach to Ireland’s ‘new culture’ which contrasts with that of its dominant proponents.
This is characterisedby an adulatory and uncritical tone, and which often fails to trace the new culture’s historical development or to identify the forces which have shaped it. Instead, it is seen as marking a break with the past and the coming-of-age of an enlightened, tolerant and liberal Ireland.
Furthermore, while this ‘new culture’ is closely linked by its proponents with Ireland’s economic success of the 1990s, widely referred to as ‘the Celtic Tiger’, the links between economy and culture have been little explored apart from a generalised correlation between economic success and a climate of national self-confidence and creativity. The authors in this book explore the links more closely, illustrating ways in which the precondition of Ireland’s economic success, namely subservient integration into a radical free-market or Anglo-American informational capitalism, has itself shaped values, attitudes and forms of cultural expression which function within the contemporary Irish economy.
In this manner, then, the book uncovers more fully and analytically the nature and content of this ‘reinvented’ Ireland and the way in which culture has become the handmaiden of a particular type of economy. Furthermore, some of the authors in these pages go beyond mapping this newculture and illustrating its economic functionality.
They explore ways in which culture could inspire political resistance and alternatives, using an engagement with Ireland’s past to identify resources for reimagining and reinventing a different Ireland of the future.
Part I, Economy and Society, contains three chapters which examine in different ways the relationshipbetween culture, economy and society under the Celtic Tiger.
In Chapter 2 Peadar Kirby examines the nature of the ‘reinvented Ireland’ of the 1990s, contrasting the bases for this reinvention with those which resulted in the original invention of Ireland over a century ago.
In Chapter 3 Michel Peillon argues that the connection between economy and culture has been fundamentally altered in the Ireland of the Celtic Tiger, since culture as social critique has given way to culture as economic commodity, both as a factor of production and a means of consumption.
Michael Cronin explores in Chapter 4 what he calls ‘the chrono-politicisation of Ireland’, the effects of the new time-zones that are shaping Irish culture and society. He finds that ‘in consumer societies where mobility has become a supreme virtue, the immobile are the losers’.
The Public Sphere is the theme of Part II.
In Chapter 5 Joe Dunne addresses the weakening basis of citizenship as we become more implicated in a consumerist culture and resigned to the inexorable logic of economic growth. He argues for a notion of citizenship anchored in a robust practice of solidarity.
In Chapter 6 Luke Gibbons explores the basis for a more multicultural public sphere in Ireland. He questions the assumption that welcoming other cultural influences requires an act of amnesia, or a disavowal of the heterogeneous and often conflicting elements within one’s own culture.
Part III examines a number of historical legacies and how they influence Irish society today.
In Chapter 7 Ger Moane looks at the psychological legacy of colonialism and identifies ways in which it still manifests itself through various cultural pathologies such as high levels of alcohol and drug consumption, patterns of denial and doublethink, distortions of sexuality and social irresponsibility.
In Chapter 8 Lionel Pilkington discusses the relationship between Irish modernity and religious and denominational identity, and surveys some of the historical and political reasons for the assumption that Catholicism is considered to be an impediment to Irish modernisation.
Part IV, Media, contains three chapters which deal with different media through which Celtic Tiger Ireland portrays itself to the world.
In Chapter 9 Barra Ó Séaghdha analyses critically the world view of some prominent Irish commentators who have interpreted contemporary Ireland to the outside world. He devotes most attention to the work of journalist Fintan O’Toole, identifying the themes of his work and the limits of his intellectual horizons.
The neo-liberalisation of Irish broadcasting is the subject of Chapter 10. Roddy Flynn argues that, far from offering more diversity on the airwaves, the advent of commercial broadcasting has narrowed the range of material available to Irish audiences as commercial criteria assume ever greater dominance.
In Chapter 11 Debbie Ging compares the representation of Ireland in the films of the late 1990s and early 2000s with the gritty social realism of the First Wave of Irish film-making fromthe 1970s and 1980s. She finds that a booming economy has begun to erase self- questioning in favour of a more marketable version of Irishness.
In the final chapter the editors discuss the main conclusions to be drawn fromthe contributions to the book, and explore ways in which culture offers the basis for forms of political practice which hold the promise of a more radical, egalitarian and multicultural society in Ireland.
Apart from this brief outline of the book’s distinctive approach and its contents, this introductory chapter undertakes three tasks.
The first examines the dominant understandings of Ireland’s economic and cultural success in the 1990's, identifying features of the orthodoxy which are functional to the existence and maintenance of the present social order. These orthodoxies are briefly mapped out and reference made to ways in which they are examined in various of the book’s chapters.
The second task interrogates the understanding of culture that informs these orthodoxies and contrasts this with understandings which were dominant in previous eras of Irish life. It goes on to flesh out a fuller understanding of culture as the site of struggle over which social meaning achieves hegemony or dominance and illustrates ways in which these struggles are taking place in contemporary Ireland.
The final task looks to the future and the role that culture plays in political stances in facing up to the dominant order. It argues that the attitude that culture is simply there to serve the needs of the economy constitutes one of the principal reasons for the failure to construct and articulate more effective, broad-ranging challenges to the dominant social order. The chapter concludes with an argument for an innovative appropriation of culture as a means of developing a new critical political space within contemporary Irish society.
The Celtic Tiger and its Orthodoxy
In the social science literature on the Celtic Tiger, three principal approaches can be identified. Each draws on different theoretical frameworks and, as a result, focuses on distinctive aspects of the phenomenon. The first, drawing on neo-classical economics and on new growth theory, focuses almost exclusively on economic success and the conditions underlying it.
In this account, high productivity, cost competitiveness, wage restraint and curbs on public spending are identified as the main contributors to economic success (see, for example, Barry 1999; Leddin and Walsh 1997; Bradley 2000; Fitzgerald 2000).
The high levels of economic growth which have resulted are seen as marking a permanent transformation of the Irish economy, holding out the prospect that ‘Ireland may achieve a standard of living among the highest within the EU’ over the next 15 years (Fitzgerald, 2000: 54).
This literature largely neglects the social impact of economic growth, seeing economic growth as an end in itself. It rests on the benign individualist and utilitarian assumptions which inform neo-classical economics and which assume that economic growth results in positive social outcomes (see Kirby 2002, Chapter 4, for a fuller discussion). It is highly influential in economic policy-making and canbe regarded as the dominant, hegemonic interpretation of the Celtic Tiger.
A second reading, consistent with the dominant economistic reading but adopting a distinctive focus of its own and drawing on very different theoretical understandings, can be identified in the political economy approaches of O’Donnell (2000b) and Ó Riain (1997a, 1997b, 2000; Ó Riain and O’Connell 2000).
These take the institutions of the Irish state as their focus of analysis, arguing that the success of the Celtic Tiger is largely the result of what O’Donnell calls ‘the emerging Irish model of economic and social governance’ (in Laffan and O’Donnell 1998: 165).
O’Donnell attributes to the institutions of social partnership a central role in mediating Ireland’s transformation from economic laggard to economic star through aligning state strategy with economic and social interests (see O’Donnell 2000b).
Drawing on the international literature on the developmental state, Ó Riain likens the Irish state’s ability to foster more successful connections with global economic forces to the legendary success of the East Asian states of Japan, South Korea and Taiwan in the post-war period.
In this reading, then, it is the state rather than the market which plays the crucial role in mediating success. Furthermore, the importance attached by both these theorists to social partnership points up the fact that they devote attention to the mechanisms whereby economic success is translated into social success, though O’Donnell offers a far more optimistic assessment of this than does Ó Riain.
Both, however, agree that Ireland has been transformed economically through the agency of the state; it is a reading which exercises some influence, especially among state elites, and may underpin the apparent determination of the state to maintain and further develop the institutions of social partnership.
The final reading draws on more critical currents within social theory, particularly on Marxism, world-systems theory and the new international political economy.
Allen’s account (1999, 2000) offers a conventional Marxist analysis emphasising how the Celtic Tiger economy has enriched a small elite while leaving the majority, the growth in whose wages has been held in check by national social part- nership agreements, relatively worse off.
O’Hearn uses world-systems theory to argue that Ireland has ‘bought economic tigerhood’ (2000: 74) on the basis of its reliance on multinational capital. By contrast, the East Asian tigers succeeded in developing strong indigenous industrial sectors and winning export markets for their products. He links growing social inequality to the nature of the Irish growth model, arguing that employment is concentrated in low-paid service jobs and that the Irish state’s fiscal policies favour the rich (1998).
A final contributor to this literature is Kirby (2000, 2002). He argues that, under the Celtic Tiger, economic success correlates with social failure and uses a theoretical approach which draws on international political economy to show how the actions of the state have favoured market forces to the detriment of social well-being.
What these analysts have in common is concern about the inequitable social impact of economic growth. While this approach has little influence among economic or state elites, it exercises more influence among activist sectors of civil society.
Debates on contemporary Ireland are furthermore informed by a powerful orthodoxy relating to a shared understanding of the Irish past. The three components of this understanding might be described as having their origins in an economic, historical and aesthetic presentation of previous Irish experience.
In the economic sphere the dominant narrative is one sketched out by Conor McCarthy when he describes the genesis of modernisation in the Irish Republic: Up to this time [the late 1950s], a chauvinistic economic nationalism had been pursued, that found its ideological basis in post-Independence isolationism, wartime neutrality and the ambivalence of the political and economic relationship with Britain. This issued in policies based on the development of the agricultural sector, import substitution and protectionism that had been pursued since the Second World War. These policies had now been revealed to be wholly inadequate to the country’s needs. (McCarthy 2000: 12–13)
T.K. Whitaker’s 1958 White Paper on Economic Development is the decisive policy move, backed by Lemass, that marks a break with the previous economic policies of post-independence Ireland and is signalled as the prelude to growth in the 1960s (Brown 1985).
The power of this founding narrative for the architects of Irish modernisation canbe seen in the fact that almost 40 years later it is still a virtually unquestioned tenet of political faith that the economic modernisation of the 1960s was a wholly good thing.
A second constitutive element of orthodox understandings of the past was the decisive change in perspectives on Irish historiography initiated in the mid- 1960s.
The main thrust of the writings of O’Brien, Lyons, Foster, McDonagh and others was to challenge the nationalist meta-narratives whether in representations of key historical events (the Famine, 1916 Rising, the Hidden Ireland of the eighteenth century), important historical figures (Patrick Pearse, Oliver Cromwell) or the degree of Irish antipathy to Empire (O’Brien 1972; Lyons 1973; Lyons 1979; MacDonagh 1983; Foster 1989; Wilson Foster 1991; Brady 1994).
The shift in historical sympathies was not only inevitable with the arrival of a younger group of scholars on the Irish university scene but also complemented the aggressive commitment of the state to integration into the international neo-liberal system and a desire on the part of the new elites to repudiate a now discredited and devalued nationalist reading of history (Mac Laughlin1994).
The deep hostility to nationalist readings of Irish history was of course also determined by the military conflict in Northern Ireland and the desire of both the British and Irish States to delegitimise extra-parliamentary Irish nationalism (Lloyd 1999).
A third element in the development of consensual representations of the Irish past has been the close correlation between aesthetic representations of Irish life and popular ideological commentary.
As Conor McCarthy has shown(McCarthy 2000: 135–64), this is most notably at work in the Dermot Bolger/FintanO’Toole tandem, where dark, dystopian portrayals of a bigoted, ruralist, nationalistic Ireland are contrasted with the (albeit thwarted) liberatory potential of the post-nationalist, secular city. The images and narrative comment in the novels are thus both informed by and corroborate the partial world view of the critic.
The economic stagnation of the late 1970s and 1980s, the backlash of the hardline Catholic Right in the 1983 and 1986 referenda and the continued bloody toll of violent conflict in Northern Ireland throughout the same period provided a powerful impetus both for maintaining and for elaborating the different constitutive elements of the modernising, neo-liberal orthodoxy.
The combined effect of the economic, historical and aesthetic readings of the Irish past has been to construct a narrative of contemporary Irish society in which the country is presented as a modern, vibrant economy and society which has successfully abandoned its reactionary, nationalist Catholic past (O’Toole 1997).
Ireland’s contemporary culture is seen as an eloquent expression of new-found confidence where the liberalisation of internal markets is matched by the celebration of individual rights and liberties.
In the version of Irish modernity that emerges from this triple denigration of received understandings of the Irish past, history is now generally admitted into public view in two distinct forms with two separate functions, as distant past and recent past.
As distant past (or as a past that has been safely distanced), history can function as a perfectly acceptable and desirable rationale for the development of a heritage industry that massages conflict out of representations (Brett 1996; Sheerin 1998).
As recent past, history is used as a bogeyman in a kind of rhetoric of binary terror. Either you accept the deregulated ruthlessness of the market or you will be cast back into the eternal night of emigration and high unemployment. Better dead than Dev.
In this either/or scenario, economic destiny is equated with political fate so that oppositional forces who contest the equation are variously presented as naïve, retrograde, irresponsible or ungrateful.
If opposition to neo-liberalism in Ireland has been so weak, it is partly to do with the different versions of the modernisation orthodoxy that have been espoused by the Irish Right and Left.
The Right are impatient to move full speed ahead with the modernisation of Irish society so that all the cultural and economic obstacles to the relentless pursuit of profit can be eliminated as rapidly as possible.
The Irish Left in the shape of the erstwhile Workers’ Party and sections of the Irish Labour Party embrace a mechanical version of Marxist theory that would see revolutionary forces gradually unleashedby the industrialisation of the society and Ireland’s integration into the capitalist world order.
In one scenario, modernisation favours the haves, in the other, the have-nots, but both agree modernisation per se can only be good for Ireland.
A further factor weakening opposition to neo- liberalism is the shrinking space for articulating oppositional arguments.
In common with many other countries throughout the world, Ireland has experienced a privatisation of the public sphere where both print and broadcast media focus more and more on ‘lifestyle’ issues and life-politics to the exclusion of larger, political questions. From the prurient focus on celebrities of the scandal sheets to the relentless narcissism of the quality press (my body, my mind, my food, my weekend breaks) and the soap-box quixoticism of talk radio, problems are individualised, de-contextualised and sensationalised.
The commitment of one government minister, Charlie McCreevy, to the ‘individualisation’ of the tax regime was not only a move that predictably made the rich even richer (even if it did indirectly favour some disadvantaged groups in Irish society) but the measure was also eloquent in its expression of the dominant philosophy of the boom. The more ‘human interest’ in the public mediasphere, the more inhuman indeed the society as a whole becomes.
Inequality of earnings has grown continuously through the years of Ireland’s economic success.
As pointed out in Chapter 2, the proportion of the population on the lowest incomes has continued to grow and Irish spending on welfare and anti-poverty measures has been the lowest of any member state of the European Union.
Pacetalk radio and human interest stories in the media, individual tales of woe, no matter how tragic or harrowing, are non-additive. They do not provide an account of structural agency, of how ideoogical choices have concrete effects, and they offer no hope of overall transformation, only the short-term sop of individual redress. What is offered instead is the illusion of social concern, of taking cognisance of problems and individual instances of suffering, but the only conceivable response in terms of the framing of media representations is either indignant helplessness or individual acts of charity (Devereaux 1997: 239–45).
By minimising or eliding larger contextual questions and keeping political critique firmly at a distance, the reader/viewer/listener is left ill-equipped either to fully understand the structural causes behind individual plight or to engage in political action with others to effect profound, long-term change.
A diminished public sphere and a nation of consumers rather than citizens represents a congenial environment for free-market liberalism but the moral coercion of the weekend supplement is rarely enough.
A key function of the nation-state in the current global order is to police the local precincts (see Bauman 1998: 65–8). Physical coercion must be present if the lessons of the powerful are to be properly understood. The Irish state is formidably well-equipped in this respect. The Offences Against the State Act is still on the statute books and effectively removes most constitutional rights from a citizen while in police custody.
The Public Order Act further restricted the right to public assembly and protest.
The Refugee Act includes draconian provisions on fingerprinting, curtailment of appeals procedures and further extends police powers.
There are now more people in Irish jails than ever before in the history of the state and the number of prison places has grown throughout the years of economic success. Between 1997 and 2000 alone, 2000 new extra prison places were created. Indeed, the fact that many tigers in the developedworld end up in cages is an ironic reminder of the penal realities of contemporary Irish society.
Those who end up behind bars are almost invariably the poor and the disadvantaged. A Council of Europe report on the Irish prisoner population showed it to be one of the youngest and poorest in Europe (Council of Europe 2000).
Between 1997, the year of the launch of a ‘zero tolerance’ crime policy, and 2000, four times as many beggars and ten times as many prostitutes were prosecuted by the state (O’Donnell and O’Sullivan 2001).
In the period 1995–99, white-collar crime represented just 0.3 per cent of all crime recorded and therefore investigated by the police. While prisons expand to incarcerate and immobilise further the most economically disadvantaged in the society, dominant economic interests are given a clear message that crime pays.
Three successive tax amnesties in 1988, 1993 and 2001, each one supposedly final, have rewarded wrongdoers not with one of the new prison places but with amiable discretion and a blanket pardon. Indeed, despite the fact that tax evasion robs the Exchequer of a lot more money than social welfare fraud, in 1999–2000 there were twenty times more checks on social welfare claims than on tax returns (O’Toole 2001).
The preoccupation with punishment and social control is an essential feature of the disciplining of populations if they are to be made to live with the economic, social and cultural consequences of aggressive neo- liberalism. As the economic life of the country becomes more and more deregulated, social life becomes consequently more regulated, whether through discriminatory policing and penal practices or through the significant expansion in CCTV and information surveillance technology in Ireland’s cities and workplaces.
Interrogating Culture
If there is any insistent refrain in cultural responses to the Celtic Tiger, it is that literature and the arts have thrown off the weight of an encumbered past and have injected a new outward-looking confidence, uncritically associated with entrepreneurship, into Irish society in general.
It turns out, however, that there is not just one but rather a number of conflicting versions of the past against which the optimism of the 1990s sets itself:
(i) On the one hand, the target of contemporary writers and artists is taken to be the nostalgia of ‘Romantic Ireland’, the myth of the west as conjured up by the Literary Revival and commodified for popular consumption in tourism and the Hollywood dream-world of John Ford’sThe Quiet Man (1952).
The debunking of romantic Ireland is usually accompanied by demands for more up-to-date representations of Ireland, images of urban life, industrialisation and consumer culture in keeping with the contemporary realities of a modernising society.
The difficulty with this call for a shift in emphasis from tradition to modernity, the country to the city, is that it is primarily concerned with content alone, and may often simply transfer the ‘forms’ and myths of rural romanticism to new urban settings.
As several critics have pointed out in relation to Alan Parker’s film of Roddy Doyle’s The Commitments(1991), the emphasis on community, leisure and consumption, vernacular language, music, and– not least – the timehonoured struggles of the Celts against adversity, all but turned the film into a version of urban pastoral, complete with the mandatory ‘triumph of failure’ theme also found in other wry treatments of modernity in films such as Eat the Peach (1987) and I Went Down (1998).
Much of what passes for the newupbeat confidence in Irish culture –particularly the capacity to turn a blind eye towards the more negative social consequences of the economic boom– draws on the social and political evasions of the romantic idyll, except now it is modern (or post-modern) Ireland which is this side of paradise. As JudithWilliamson pointed out in a classic article (Williamson 1986), it is not coincidental that advertising images play endlessly on the allure of desert islands, Nature, or romantic escapism in general, as if the commodity – and the humdrum exoticism of brand names, logos and lifestyles – has become the final outpost of fantasy and consumer gratification. Romantic Ireland may be dead and gone but that has not prevented it re-emerging in commodity form.
(ii) As against the comfort-blanket of Romantic Ireland, critical fire has also been directed at the disillusioned social realism associated with the age of De Valera – ushered in perhaps by Patrick Kavanagh’s The Great Hunger– and charted with meticulous accuracy in the fiction of John McGahern, Edna O’Brien and William Trevor, or the drama of Brian Friel and Tom Murphy.
From the 1980s onwards, these images have received a new lease of life in Irish film and television drama, ranging from The Ballroom of Romance (Pat O’Connor 1982) to Korea (Cathal Black 1996), The Butcher Boy (Neil Jordan 1998) and the four-part television adaptation of John McGahern’s Amongst Women (1999).
Certainly, the relentless pessimism and quietism of many of these stories in the face of oppression and social paralysis seems out of place in the good times of the Celtic Tiger, leading Newsweek magazine to sound off in a recent issue: ‘Prosperity has come to the land of Joyce and Yeats, creating a kind of country they could never have imagined: rich and happy.’ However, as in the case of the romantic image, one has only to shift the locale for the fatalism of the countryside to re-emerge in the contemporary guise of a gritty, working-class realism.
Roddy Doyle’s four-part series Family (Mike Winterbottom 1994) provides perhaps the emblematic images here, but Charlo, the insensate male protagonist, is in many ways an aggressive urban counterpart of Kavanagh’s Paddy Maguire, framed against images of concrete dilapidation rather than the stony grey soil of Monaghan.
As in the case of Jim Sheridan’s Oscar-winning My Left Foot (1989), moreover, not all of the victims accept their fate passively but it is striking that conflict does not always take place along class lines but is cast in terms of the struggle of family and community against patriarchy, privilege and the impersonal forces of the state.
At their best, Family and related fictions of the 1990s chart new territory, however, in breaking with the reassuring liberal illusion that the ills of contemporary Ireland are simply the residues of the old order – land, religion and nationalism.
Social decay, crime, alcoholism, domestic violence, homophobia, racism and alienation are not conveniently backdated to the sins of the fathers but are portrayed as endemic to modernity itself, part of the price of catching up with advanced Anglo-American or European culture.
By contrast, one can compare the reverse process in the psychotic parodies of Martin MacDonagh which project onto rural primitivism precisely the kind of anomie and moral disintegration that emanates fromthe metropolitan centre – albeit in its bleak Thatcherite rather than Celtic Tiger mode.
(iii) The third set of cultural representations against which the Celtic Tiger defines itself has to do with the Northern conflict, and the unfinished business of the national question.
The litmus test of whether a narrative caught the spirit of post-national Ireland thus became its total disregard for the Troubles – which, after all, were supposed to be taking place in a foreign country (even if it was a bit too close for comfort).
Depictions of urban violence (themselves spin- offs of the old stereotypes of the ‘Fighting Irish’) were divested of their more overt political leanings with the emergence of a localised gangster genre focused on the cult of ‘The General’ – although the best of the bio-pics, the BBC drama Vicious Circle (1999), did not flinch from exposing the General’s sinister dealings with the Loyalist paramilitary underworld.
This version of ‘don’t mention the war’ helps to explain the vitriolic attacks on Neil Jordan’s Michael Collins (1996), mainly on the grounds that it suggested unresolved tensions and affinities between Collins’s guerrilla tactics and both state and IRA violence in the current Troubles.
At a less acrimonious level, the eagerness to dispense with – or disavow – the most deeply-rooted conflicts in Irish society, whether to do with the North, sexuality or religion, has led to the search for new post-national narratives in which films, novels or plays are divested of any recognisable Irish traits.
Though filmed in Dublin, Gerry Stembridge’s About Adam (2000) gathered plaudits because it did not look like Dublin, and could in fact have been any hip city, or cosmopolitan setting. More perceptive responses pointed out that the film’s mode of story-telling still bore the distinctive stamp of the city that produced Joyce, just as Wim Wender’s Paris, Texas (1984) carried the signature of New German Cinema as much as its ostensible American subject matter.
Not least of the ironies of the new global Irishness is that what could be construed as the erosion of a sense of place, or the most distinctive aspects of a culture, is taken as an assertion of confidence and independence. The profound changes taking place in Irish society undoubtedly call for images and modes of representation that extend beyond the past, but this is only because the past itself is not over, and still awaits its defining moments in the future.
Culture in the Social Sciences
Culture features little in the social science literature on the Celtic Tiger. However, a number of theorists refer to it, usually in passing; these references allow a certain mapping of the role culture is seen to play in Ireland’s economic success.
Among those who promote the dominant economistic reading, Fitzgerald alone attributes to culture a major role. Referring to ‘a new self-confidence’ and to what he calls ‘a positive, outward-looking attitude that affects business, the educational system, and politics’ which he attributes to membership of the European Union, Fitzgerald writes: ‘It is this cultural change that is probably the single most important factor underlying the current Irish economic renaissance’ since it has led to a spirit of openness and enthusiasm in embracing globalisation and outside influences (Fitzgerald 2000: 55).
While he does not specify what he is referring to, he seems to have in mind what O’Donnell calls ‘the emergence of an entrepreneurial culture and the adoption of radically new approaches to management and organisation’ (2000b: 195). O’Donnell also sees culture, in the sense in which he understands it, as playing a central role in Ireland’s economic success:
Without the unleashing of enterprise and improvement in management and organisation, the benign macroeconomic and market access conditions since the mid 1980s could not have produced the commercial breakthrough, so often referred to as the ‘Celtic Tiger’. (ibid.)
To the limited extent to which they refer to culture, therefore, the two dominant social scientific approaches to understanding the Celtic Tiger treat it as being equivalent to a successful business culture and they seem to attribute the values informing such a culture to the wider society.
Kirby identifies a more critical cultural discourse in the Ireland of the Celtic Tiger through examining some expressions of this in the media. He concludes: ‘Values such as individualism, materialism, intolerance of dissent, lack of concern for the environment and a failure to value caring are identified as characterising life under the Celtic Tiger’ (2002: 159).
This is an attempt to move beyond the elitist and economistic understanding of culture in the work of dominant theorists, to uncover a wider and more demotic meaning of culture, as identified by Tucker: ‘From a cultural perspective we must consider people’s values, ideas, and beliefs, their identity and feelings, how they view the world and their place in it, and what is meaningful to them’ (Tucker 1997: 4).
In this way, then, two opposing understandings of culture can be derived, one an elitist understanding functional and subservient to economic success and the other an expression of people’s critique of and dissent from key values and attitudes which characterise the social impact of that success.
These two understandings mirror a tension Eagleton found to be at the heart of the meaning of culture since, while it is a critique of social life, it is also complicit with it, ‘a secluded form of social critique or a process locked all too deeply into the status quo’ (Eagleton 2000: 8).
This draws attention to the intersection of meaning and power, to the ways in which culture is mobilised and moulded to serve the needs of a dominant social order. Thus, the emergence of informational capitalism and Ireland’s semi-peripheral integration into it bring to the fore a cultural discourse prioritising individualism, entrepreneurship, mobility, flexibility, innovation, competitiveness both as personal attributes to be cultivated by the individual (and which educational institutions are expected to play a central role in facilitating) and as dominant social values.
These displace earlier discourses prioritising national development, national identity, family, self-sacrifice, self-sufficiency and nationalism. In both cases, we have examples of how dominant meanings are constructed to legitimise power hierarchies. However, as the quote from Eagleton above indicates, this is not the end of the story: culture also cultivates and gives expression to alternative and more critical meanings fashionedby those marginalised from the status quo. This subversive understanding of culture also finds rich expression in Ireland’s history as demonstrated in Chapter 2, but there are also current examples.
In presenting a set of ideas about Irish society that on both the Left and Right have hardened into the political platitudes of Irish modernisation, the architects of the new Ireland studiously ignore cultural movements that would complicate the picture.
The last decade of the twentieth century saw a sustained growth in all-Irish schools, the establishment of an Irish-language television station, the creation of third-level degree courses in Irish and the setting-up and the operation of an urban-based Irish-language radio station (see Ó Croidheáin 2001).
The Irish language which had been consigned along with Faith and Fatherland to the trash-can of late modernity not only did not do the decent thing and die but actually expanded, developed and was taken over by a new generation of younger, mainly urban speakers.
At one level, this can be seen as a classic centrifugal response to globalising forces in a society, local identities being affirmed as local economies become globalised (Castells 1997).
At another, however, it is one expression of the need in a society to source elements of a linguistic and cultural past to situate a people in the present, a need that has not disappeared with the radical economic changes in Irish society.
Other examples would be the emegence of a radical social discourse in the main churches, a self- aware and proactive movement for rural development in Ireland and the increased interest of young voters in non-establishment movements, politicians and political parties.
One of the difficulties with progressive thinking in Ireland whether dealing with language difference or, say, the persistence of religious belief and practice among the Irish young is what be might be termed ideological franchising.
Basically, this involves the wholesale import of concepts and analyses from a powerful centre (usually the former colonial power) and their application in Procrustean fashion to the local society.
This phenomenon is by no means confined to the long- established tendency of local capitalist elites to borrow dominant paradigms for regional application.
Joseph Lee in Ireland 1912–1985: Politics and Society concludes that more generally intellectuals have contributed little to Irish public life, which has shown itself to be decidedly uncongenial to intellectual activity (Lee 1989: 638). There are a number of features of the Irish situation which indeed adversely affect the contribution of Irish intellectuals to Irish public life and to the wider international scene.
First, there is the draw of the derivative. Sharing a common language with the British and the Americans, Irish intellectuals borrow heavily from the stock of models and paradigms on offer in the Anglo- American world. There is no translation time-lag and the significant presence of academics in Irish universities educated in other Anglophone traditions means that there is a ready market for intellectual imports.
The difficulty lies in their inappropriateness. As Lee observes, Ireland ‘has imported much, but it has learned little’ (Lee 1989: 627). Ireland is historically, economically, socially, demographically very different from Britain or the United States so that more often than not, the imported models are inappropriate in both nature and scale. Heavy conceptual borrowing often condemns the Irish intellectual to the shadow-play of dependency so that the question of a distinctive Irish contribution to the social and human sciences since independence has always been problematic.
Secondly, the development of suitable economic, social and cultural policies is based primarily on self-knowledge, yet the level of funding for fundamental social research in Ireland is extremely low. Only research that has immediately quantifiable economic benefits is favoured and decisions are made with little regard for the long-term consequences for society. This leads to erratic, capricious policy-making whose effectiveness is compromised by a lack of contextual sensitivity and a tendency to embrace the pragmatic fashion of the day.
Paul Bew, Ellen Hazelkorn and Henry Patterson observed more than a decade ago that:
the present impasse of social democracy [inIreland] must therefore reside in its dogmatic embrace of modernisation theory which has left it theoreticallydenuded in a situation in which neither economic growth nor crisis has witnessed the working class embrace the socialist agenda. (Bew et al. 197–8)
In the kind of hand-me-down universalism practisedby large sections of the Irish Left attitudes to such phenomena as language revival, agricultural development, non-secular beliefs and so on are preordained and dismissive. The immediate outcome is the persistent marginalisation of the Irish Left which has performed dismally since Irish independence. Its failure to engage with features of Irish society which do not conform to the conceptual grid of more reductive versions of the Enlightenment means that it fails to take advantage of those traditions in Ireland which offer opposition, dissent, resistance, albeit not always in ways sanctioned by the vade-mecums of the metropolitan Left.
Sites of Resistance and Reinvention
In retrieving the notion of culture as utopian critique, ‘the very paradigm of a transformed political order’ (Eagleton 2000: 16) Eagleton warns of the dangers of wistful thinking, ‘the infantile disorder known as ultra-leftism, which negates the present in the name of some inconceivably alternative future’ (ibid.: 22). He states that the desirable future it argues for must be a feasible one, and finding a bridge between present and future is best done by identifying the transformative forces at work in the present social order. By ‘judging the present to be lacking by measuring it against norms which it has generated itself’ culture ‘can unite fact and value, as both an account of the actual and a foretaste of the desirable’ (ibid.). In this way, culture has the potential to be a site of resistance to the present social order and, in its own right, a force subverting that order and inventing a new one.
The first obstacle facing such an understanding of culture is the dominant post-modern view that there is no such thing as a common culture any more. In this view, propagated in today’s Ireland with an intolerance that would have gladdened the heart of any promoter of a closed, essentialist Irish identity, the attempt to impose a common culture has given way to the celebration of a multiplicity of diverse cultures, from gay culture to pub culture, from Travellers culture to the culture of Dublin 4. What constitutes an Irish culture, in this view, is the rich tapestry of this endless variety. What this view avoids, however, is any attempt to recognise, much less interrogate, the values, beliefs and meanings which lie behind these diverse cultures, and therefore help to constitute the wider society we inhabit beyond the sub-cultures with which we may identify.
Eagleton raises some hard questions for those who see cultural pluralism as a value in itself:
To pluralize the concept of culture is not easily compatible with retaining its positive charge. It is simple enough to feel enthusiastic about culture as humanistic self-development, or even about, say Bolivian culture, since any such complex formation is bound to include a good many benign features. But once one begins, in a spirit of generous pluralism, to break down the idea of culture to cover, say, ‘police canteen culture’, ‘sexual-psychopath culture’ or ‘Mafia culture’, then it is less evident that these are cultural forms to be approved simply because they are cultural forms (2000: 15).
While inevitably there is a pluralism in all cultures, no society could exist without some common values, beliefs and meanings to hold it together. A concentration on the plurality of cultures can obscure these foundational elements of culture, ensuring the values and meanings promotedby our political and economic elites pass muster for our common values. It also avoids the challenge of constituting an alternative set of common meanings to counter the dominant ones which are often taken for granted. This is where culture and politics meet, where popular mobilisation and organisation give power and voice to the values, beliefs and meanings of those who reject the dominance of an individualist, competitive, acquisitive culture.
In arguing against the wholesale incorporation of culture into the political project of Irish neo-liberalism, the object is not to make piecemeal complaints about physical infrastructure (traffic chaos) or public services (hospital waiting lists). Valid as the criticisms may be, they often give the appearance of dissent while leaving the basic structures of inequality and exploitation in Irish society untouched. Indeed, unless critical thinking has a deep-rooted, clearly articulated basis, what results is either a volatile form of social commentary which is a slave to the gripe of the moment (the opinion piece) or a kind of unhinged moralism which reacts with indignation to specific episodes of injustice but has no overall framework for action (the column).
In order for people to act politically, they must be able to operate through time and, in order to operate through time, there be must an element of coherence and consistency in political thinking which allows energies to be maintained. The political and business elites in Irish society, for their part, have not been found wanting in their single-minded pursuit of the deregulation of all areas of Irish economic life (except for wages, of course, which remain highly regulated, particularly for the lower paid) (Green 2001).
To this end, there has been a marked integration of the economic and cultural spheres. For the dominant, this integration has brought the benefits of a radically diminished public sphere, a silent and uncritical Academy and a largely docile workforce. However, such proximity brings with it dangers for the dominant classes which became clearly evident in the unprecedented hostility visited on the secondary teachers during their industrial action in 2000 and the outraged hectoring that preceded and followed the Nice Treaty debacle. In both instances, such was the coercive force of consensual thinking that any expression of sympathy for the dissenting position was immediately vilified as an intolerable threat to ‘our’ hard-won prosperity or the future of Irish civilisation as we knew it. As culture is more closely tied into economic forces, then activating other, alternative traditions in culture has arguably a much greater political effect than hitherto and will meet with a much more aggressive political response as cultural issues are clearly marked as both economic and political.
Notes 1.The term ‘Celtic Tiger’ was coinedby the US investment bankers Morgan Stanley in 1994 but it took a number of years to pass into popular currency. For an outline of what is seen as constituting the Celtic Tiger, see Kirby (2002).
2.Ireland’s economic success in the second half of the 1990s has been dependent on very high levels of US foreign investment to such an extent that one economist has written that, over this period, ‘the microeconomic structure of her industrial economy has evolved to more closely resemble a region of the United States’ (O’Sullivan 2000: 283).
3.Social partnership refers to the innovative layers of negotiated economic and social policy-making between the social partners (the government, the business sector, the farming sector, the trade unions and the community and voluntary sector) which exist at national, regional and local level in Ireland. See Chapter 2 for a fuller description and discussion.
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