Has anyone asked the people of Northern Ireland what symbols they want to keep if unified?

Darach Ó Séaghdha Author and linguist

In Calling 353, bestselling Motherfoclóir author and podcaster Darach Ó Séaghdha casts a linguistic eye on how we talk about what it means to be Irish, the signs we post to each other about Irishness – and what really lies beneath it all.

IF YOU WERE following the midterm elections in the United States this week you may have spotted that along with the sharp swing in favour (or “favor” as they say) of the Democrats, a number of states ran propositions and motions for voters to have their say on.

California attempted to pass a one-time tax on the accumulated wealth of billionaires. Idaho invited voters to nominate an official state gun. All in all, 146 such motions were included across America ranging from data centres (or “centers” as they call them) to abortion, taxes and LGBTQ+ rights.

America takes a different view on such votes to Andy Burnham, the current UK Prime Minister at the time of writing. When pressed to explain his remarks that talk of a referendum on Irish unity would be “off the table”, he explained that referendums have been very divisive in Britain recently and that’s the last thing anyone needed.

Over here, referendums are a far more regular occurrence and the divisiveness Burnham refers to can be minimised with a bit of preparation. With that in mind, An Taoiseach Micheál Martin this week announced that he will set up a task force to prepare for Irish unity. Conversations around this topic have been taking place for years and years, but their tone has shifted significantly in the decade since Brexit as the difference between being in or out of the EU has changed what is at stake.

Some people living south of the border have used the topic of a possible single-island state as an opportunity for introspection and re-evaluation. If people from a unionist or loyalist background are to be willing participants in this new state, then maybe we should discard some of the old state’s divisive symbols? In particular, these people (living south of the border, remember, and who nominally want a single-island state) think we should chuck the tricolour and the national anthem.

Personally, I like the national anthem and the flag.

I like that they are secular – the anthem does not mention God, and while the Union Jack is three overlapping Christian crosses, the tricolour is all about harmony between different faiths.

I can see the argument for a fresh start with both, but the warnings of recent history suggest that this will be an uphill battle – if we are lucky. In fact, it’s more likely to be a vertical battle. Consider the following.

The Seanad abolition referendum

Back in the bleakest days of the IMF recession, the government were looking for some popular cost-cutting measures to mitigate the anger at the unpopular cost-cutting measures they were also implementing. The decision to chuck the Upper House seemed like a no-brainer: it had never been popular and even the people who didn’t want to lose it agreed that it needed to be dramatically reformed. Absolutely nobody said “the Seanad is fine the way it is”. But the referendum failed and a decade later it stood untouched. How could this be?

A woman’s place

If you had a time machine and you told a classroom in the year 1999 that, 25 years into the future, that referendums on the “woman’s place in the home” bits of the constitution would finally be held… but they would be the most comprehensively defeated referendums in Irish electoral history and would be promptly followed by the resignation of Ireland’s first gay Taoiseach, it would probably do severe damage to their youthful hope.

For as long as I’ve been old enough to read, Article 41.2 of the Constitution has been a source of embarrassment. At best, it was seen as quaint and patronising; at worst, malicious and misogynistic.

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But popularity is relative.

In both of these cases, there was no strong push to keep the existing, unpopular system. Where they failed was in presenting an agreed vision on what should replace them. Voters didn’t like the idea of no second chamber between the Dáil and the Áras, and the replacement wording in the Bunreacht didn’t get anyone too excited. Just because they wanted to chuck out the old sofa didn’t mean they could agree on a new sofa.

Ireland’s Call

In 1995, the IRFU invited Phil Coulter to compose a song to use in the place of the national anthem for Irish rugby games; this would be a gesture of goodwill towards the players from Ulster Protestant backgrounds who didn’t feel represented by the national anthem of the Republic. And sure the Scots and the Welsh weren’t singing national anthems either. So why not?

The unpopularity of Ireland’s Call, especially among people who love slagging rugby, can be seen from space. Maybe the tune annoys them, maybe they find the lyrics a bit meh. But I would wager that the thing they really hate is what the song represents – people who never thought the national anthem was good enough for them pretending to be gracious by willingly choosing something else to please someone else, but really only pleasing themselves while angering a bunch of people who they don’t care about.

Personally, I don’t mind the song, but the scale of dislike is instructive.

The Dukes of Hazzard problem

Even though the Confederacy in America wasn’t together for as long as the Spice Girls, its flag has endured as a symbol – on bumper stickers, on album art, on belt buckles, on the Dukes of Hazzard’s car, and more. Rhodesia wasn’t around for a very long time either, but its flag has become a popular symbol among the hard right. It’s hard to kill a symbol.

If the Irish tricolour was replaced with a new flag, even a gorgeous one with a harp or a Newgrange swirl in the middle, the tricolour would still exist. It would still turn up at marches and sporting events and bumper stickers, but it would take on a dark new meaning.

Even if the problem was as simple as replacing the flag or the anthem, the old flag and anthem will still exist. And the tricolour and Amhrán na bhFiann are both a lot more popular than the Seanad and an article in the Constitution ever were.

A gentle prod

When I hear people suggest various deductive measures the Republic might take to make the state more welcoming to Ulster Protestants, three things occur to me.

1. Why aren’t we listing cool Northern Irish stuff that the 353 bit might get to enjoy? The BBC iPlayer, for example? And Fifteens?
2. You are clearly just suggesting stuff that you are happy to lose.
3. Have you actually asked anyone from Northern Ireland what they’d like?

The last point is the kicker because the only reason you would guess what people from up north would need to convince them that a single island state is a risk worth taking, instead of just asking them, is because you don’t know any such people. And I think that’s a shocking thing to admit to.

Put yourself in their shoes – would you rather someone guessed what you wanted or that they asked you? And the nice thing about the whole “open conversation with neighbours” strategy is that it could make all our lives better whether the island’s bureaucratic machinery is rearranged or not.

Darach will be back next Sunday with more thoughts on the words and Irish cultural phenomena that unite us.