The Making of Modern Irish History

Revisionism and the Revisionist Controversy

D. George Boyce, Alan O'Day, D. George Boyce, Alan O'Day

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2006
• Print ISBN:
  9780415098199
• eBook ISBN:
  9781134807628
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: Historiography
• Index: History

This volume brings together distinguished historians of Ireland, each of whom tackles a key question, issue or event in Irish history since the eighteenth century and:

* examines its historiography
* assesses the context of new interpretations
* considers the strengths and weaknesses of revisionist ideas
* offers their own interpretation.

Topics covered are not only of historical interest but, in the context of recent revisionist debates, of contemporary political significance.

These original contributions take account of new evidence and perspectives, as well as up-to-date historical methodology. Their combination of synthesis and analysis represent a valuable guide to the present state of the writing of modern Irish history.

1

INTRODUCTION

‘Revisionism’ and the ‘revisionist’ controversy

D. George Boyce and Alan O’Day

What is the popular image of historical revisionism today? A retelling of Irish history which seeks to show that British rule of Ireland was not, as we have believed a bad thing, but a mixture of necessity, good intentions and bungling; and that Irish resistance to it was not as we have believed, a good thing, but a mixture of wrong-headed idealism and unnecessary, often cruel violence. The underlying message is that our relations with Britain on the Irish question the Irish have been very much at fault. This is the popular image of historical revisionism.

Desmond Fennell¹

REVISING HISTORY

Revising national history is perilous, especially if cherished legends are debunked or heroes pushed off their pedestals. History is viewed as having the functions of inculcation of the young with a sense of their own national past and of recounting a public morality tale legitimising the state, nation or community. It can give self-respect to a diaspora suffering from disorientation, alienation or a sense of inferiority. One commentator notes of Britain’s Irish community

the Irish have often found solace in reminding themselves of their victimised past. The past is where a small nation was colonised and crushed by a ruthless oppressor. In their own lives they may well be ridiculed at work for being Irish. Since the re-emergence of the ‘troubles’ twenty years ago, the abuse has sometimes been more than verbal (particularly if the IRA campaign comes across the water). A reading of traditional Irish nationalist history helps to place their experiences in context. It gives people pride in their past, and thus national self-respect. The classes are dominated by first and second generation Irish and the climate is one of uncritical nationalism. To introduce ‘revisionist’ history into such classes would be to take away a major reason why people have attended.²

Anything which questions national or nationalist priorities is suspect for history above all is the property of those who control the political apparatus or, in the case of certain of the disaffected diaspora, of a patriotic tradition. Liberal societies no less than authoritarian regimes are zealous in detecting historical heresy. Indeed, contemporary historical heterodoxy is comparable to religious heresy and inspires much the same suspicion and hatred from those who feel threatened by it. Like the priest of old, the historian’s standing in society depends on how well he or she satisfies the psychological wants of the community. To challenge its presumptions is to invite disdain, rejection and possibly humiliation. Democratic nations, it is alleged, even sponsor the establishment of a Marxist historiography that allows for the expression of a harmless counter-state version of the past while effectively affirming the integrity of the existing society.³ Certain of Northern Ireland’s so-called ‘Orange’ Marxists have been put in the dock as a state-sponsored Trojan Horse. Relatively new nations or those that have experienced a recent revolution jealously guard their ‘approved’ history, for the state or its current political leadership lacks the legitimacy of a lengthy pedigree. New national states, most lacking an ancient territory, frequently possessing antagonistic ethnic or religious groups, and often lacking a consensus on the existence of the political structure, employ an approved public history as substitute for antiquity.

The nature of ‘revisionism’ and responses to it vary between communities and over time. Whether it is called ‘revisionism’ or by some other name the new history is often identified with efforts by some historians to propagate a different political agenda. ‘Present-mindedness’, in some contexts an innocent historical perspective, has none-the-less become a coded phrase for history with a purpose, a political purpose meant to change, not uphold, currently existing ideologies or institutions. Probably historians can never be divorced from their own experiences and concerns but it is worth recalling S.R. Gardiner’s dictum: ‘He who studies the society of the past will be of greater service to the society of the present in proportion as he leaves it out of account.’⁴ There is revisionism and ‘revisionism’ and historians everywhere have found it easier to adopt the first but to deny the validity of the second.

New writings that disturb approved traditions are always a quicksand but they have had an exceptional place in German historiography that holds pride of place as the storm centre of ‘revisionism’. Perhaps it is fitting that the culture that pioneered ‘scientific history’, systematic archival research and the academic doctorate should be at the forefront of the present intellectual controversy over the function of history. Revival of nationalist historiography in Germany raises fears transcending the ivory towers of academe. Containment of Germany has been the foundation stone of the Cold War and instigated elaborate constructs of alliances, a problem now made even more urgent in the face of the collapse of the Eastern bloc, the reunification of Germany and a resurgence of virulent German nationalism. One British scholar anxiously dismisses the whole revisionist debate in Germany as having ‘little to offer anyone with a serious scholarly interest in the German past’ while another, less severely perhaps, declares that ‘at any rate the historikerstreit has resulted in no new and lasting insights into a deeper understanding of the Third Reich’.⁵ The problem that these and other historians identified is that revisionism of the Nazi era advances, not a genuine challenge to scholarship, but a moral and political discourse, though one conducted through the medium of leading historians, about how far contemporary Germans can cope with this past. Since this was at heart a political debate, the expertise of these historians offers ‘no great advantage or special privilege’.⁶ In the eyes of its critics this revisionism had ‘nothing to do with the internal demands of historical scholarship’.⁷ Arguments about German history are not purely or even primarily confined to Germans. Germany’s history is a preoccupation of historians from many cultures. It is much too serious a business to be left to Germans. Yet, the controversy raises one of the long-standing and still germane issues about the practice of history. What, if any, part should an academic historian play in the political uses of the past? Is the historian not a citizen as well as an observer? Can the modern historian in the emergent global village continue to be bound by the limits of national allegiance? And, how does the historian respond to the demand by the state for a new version of the past when the old no longer seems entirely convenient? The Coroner of Sligo when commenting on the murder of Lord Mountbatten gave voice to the need for a new version of history, noting:

I believe it is necessary to stress again the great responsibility that parents and teachers of any nation have in the way they interpret history and pass it on to the youth of their country. I believe that if history could be taught in such a fashion that it would help to create harmony among people rather than division and hatred, it would serve this nation and all other nations better.⁸

British historiography, too, has experienced a plethora of ‘revisionism’ but to a great extent this has been carried on within the universities or the pages of relatively low circulation periodicals beloved by the literati. Participation in these disputes, like German studies, is an activity without national boundaries. The battle for the soul of history, in contrast, is fought over techniques and ideological issues of interest to the academics but lacks a dynamic capable of rousing popular sentiment. ‘Revisionism’ then has a wide impact only when it is perceived to affect the community in a significant way.

Trends in historiography elsewhere made it inevitable that Irish history would experience a ‘revisionism’ of its own. Southern Ireland’s recent ‘liberation’ and the continued division of the historic territory insured that ‘revisionism’ when it arrived would replicate public contention as in Germany. Northern Unionists also were sensitive to any tampering with their ‘history’. Desmond Fennell’s sharp rebuke of ‘revisionists’ aptly draws attention to the passions roused by the new history in a society where the past has been the handmaiden to a political present. Yet, it is vital to note that there is an important distinction between ‘revisionism’ of Irish history and the new history of Germany, for instance, in that in the former case the impulses are liberal and pluralistic whereas in Germany it is associated with the resurgence of the extreme right. But what is ‘revisionism’ in the Irish context? What are its origins and progression? Has this historiography had any meaningful impact? Should anyone outside Ireland bother giving the controversy more than passing notice?

There has been remarkably little coherence to the debate on Irish ‘revisionism’. A clear definition of ‘revisionism’ remains absent from the discussion. Partly as a consequence there is not an agreed list of who is and is not a ‘revisionist’. As Hugh Kearney observes, the same individual historians are cited with approval by ‘revisionists’ and ‘anti-revisionists’ alike.⁹ Also, there is no universally accepted date for the beginnings of ‘revisionism’ or for its influences. Most public participants have been impelled by its effect (or virtue) in enervating the principles of modern Irish republicanism, as the corrupter a generation of politicians, civil servants, teachers and leading figures in the media, though it seems more probable that these influences have done more to ‘corrupt’ the historians than vice versa. Echoes of ‘anti-revisionism’ are present in Unionist circles as well. Yet other antagonists disclaim any influence for this historiographic movement. Seldom has a major dispute within the intelligentsia been so lacking in agreement on what the issues are. However, certain features do offer common ground. First, disputants assume that history is an important political tool. This is a crucial intellectual assumption, even arrogance, for historians in many societies are painfully aware of their impotence in public life, of their enforced exile from forums where decision-making takes place. As J.J. Lee notes, the New Ireland Forum in 1983–4 did its work largely without the benefit of the historians’ expertise. ‘If the Forum was a “gigantic academic session, a ‘teach-in’ on the national question", the historians were conspicuously ignored’.¹⁰ To the extent that the intelligentsia plays some part in governance, it is most frequently economists, sociologists or political scientists who find themselves enlisted to aid political establishments as was the case in the New Ireland Forum. Yet, it is refreshing, if somewhat surprising, to have one Irish commentator declaring in a paper delivered in the United States, that

historians do not live only in the ivory tower. It is incontestable that some wider social role is performed by the historian: as textbook-writer for schools, as advisors to government and educational bodies, to publishers and the providers of historical resources for learning, as contributors to popular newspapers, to radio and television programmes.¹¹

This certainly set an unrealistic expectation, for few in the audience would ever be called upon in a significant public capacity to comment on Irish affairs. Opportunities for Irish historians to play a public role outside Ireland, ‘revisionists’ or otherwise, are slight indeed and as Lee suggests their place even in Ireland is insecure. Second, it is a characteristic of Irish ‘revisionism’ that though the writing of Ireland’s history is international in origin, including ‘revisionist’ studies, the controversy about ‘revisionism’ is intensely parochial. Contributions to the debate on both sides have taken place mainly among the Irish themselves conducted principally in periodicals and a media that receives little notice outside Ireland. T.W. Moody, F.S.L. Lyons, Roy Foster, Ronan Fanning, Brendan Bradshaw and Desmond Fennell are at one in seeing Irish history as our history.¹² Lee is a partial exception to the extent that he acknowledges an outside dimension to historical writing on Ireland. This insularity is especially curious as a supposed impetus for ‘revisionism’ is the international and European impact on Ireland since the 1960s. Because it is our history, the participants in the dispute have been conscious of the local context for the shift in historiographic tendencies and, in the cases of Fennell and Bradshaw, critical of those who have by omission or design eroded nationalist traditions of suffering and resistance to oppression. While it might be arguable that historians in Ireland owe a duty to their community not to be derogatory about the country’s patriots or undermine public self-esteem, scholars outside Ireland have no such obligation. Patrick O’Farrell denies any intention of writing out of any ‘filo-pietism’.¹³ Whether many participants in the ‘revisionism’ controversy have much sense of this global dimension is unclear. Third, ‘revisionists’ and ‘anti-revisionists’ largely agree on an agenda that takes a less Anglocentric view of the past. Roy Foster is upbraided for failing to achieve his aim of a less Anglocentric interpretation of modern Ireland.¹⁴ Such a project would be truly ‘revisionist’ for the country’s relationship with Britain is unquestionably a fundamental reality of Ireland’s past, something implicit in the ‘anti-revisionist’ demand for traditional nationalist history. Neither ‘revisionist’ nor ‘anti-revisionist’ Unionist writing suffers from this affliction.

‘Revisionism’ has been dated variously to a revulsion from the officially propagated histories of the post-1922 Irish Free State and of Northern Ireland culminating in the founding of Irish Historical Studies in the late 1930s, to disillusionment with the failure of the Republic to deliver the promised economic and cultural goods by the 1960s generation of Irish who looked to America and swinging London as their talismans, to the ‘troubles’ in Northern Ireland that laid claim to a tradition of Republican violence, and to the whole island’s entry into the European Union, a decision nullifying fundamental tenets of nationalism and Unionism. Extreme Republicanism and militant Unionists have been at one in rejecting the island’s integration into the European Community. Brendan Bradshaw, who gives effective form to the ‘anti-revisionist’ case, identifies two crucial stages in the progression of ‘revisionism’. He notes the impact of the 1930s generation of graduate students, largely trained in London, who sought – misguidedly in his estimation – to impose ‘value-free’ history in Ireland. He argues that this attempt has led to a selectivity that omits inconvenient aspects of the country’s past thereby laying the foundations of an interpretation unsympathetic to the suffering, struggle, heroism and sacrifice of those who liberated the nation. Similarly, he expresses concern about the impact of this ‘value-free’ approach on unionist history though this is incidental to his theme. Because of a ruthlessly austere methodology, he contends, the works emanating from this ‘value-free’ school are clinical and sanitised. A second stage, in Bradshaw’s estimation, was reached by the generation of students of the 1960s and 1970s, also mainly trained in British universities, who added to the earlier ‘value-free’ approach a deliberate iconoclasm, a practised irony that juxtaposes incidents and phrases in ways calculated to convey an ultra-scepticism, even cynicism, about the national tradition. His critique gives academic credentials to ‘anti-revisionism’ popularised by Fennell and is a beacon to o...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title
• Copyright
• CONTENTS
• NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS
• 1 INTRODUCTION: ‘Revisionism’ and the ‘revisionist controversy’
• 2 EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY IRELAND
• 3 THE UNION OF IRELAND AND BRITAIN, 1801–1921
• 4 REVISIONISM AND IRISH HISTORY: The Great Famine
• 5 THE NATIONAL QUESTION, LAND, AND ‘REVISIONISM’: Some reflections
• 6 IRISH NATIONALISM
• 7 IRISH UNIONISM
• 8 HOME RULE AND THE HISTORIANS
• 9 1916, INTERPRETING THE RISING
• 10 REVISING THE DIASPORA
• 11 PAST AND PRESENT: REVISIONISM AND THE NORTHERN IRELAND TROUBLES
• INDEX