[Congressional Record Volume 141, Number 36 (Monday, February 27, 1995)]
[Senate]
[Pages S3145-S3147]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]


CHERISHING THE IRISH DIASPORA--PRESIDENT MARY ROBINSON'S ADDRESS TO THE 
                            IRISH PARLIAMENT

  Mr. KENNEDY. Mr. President, 1995 marks the beginning of the 150th 
anniversary of the Great Irish Famine. Many of the 70 million men, 
women, and children of Irish descent around the world today, including 
44 million Irish-Americans, are part of the Irish diaspora which the 
famine caused.
  Earlier this month, President Mary Robinson of Ireland addressed both 
Houses of the Irish Parliament on the famine and on the larger subject 
of the Irish diaspora and the modern meaning of ``Irishness'' for 
peoples and communities everywhere. I believe that President Robinson's 
eloquent address will be of interest to all of us in Congress and I ask 
unanimous consent that it may be printed in the Record.
  There being no objection, the address was ordered to be printed in 
the Record, as follows:

 Cherishing the Irish Diaspora--Address to the Houses of the Oireachtas

                      (By President Mary Robinson)
       Four years ago I promised to dedicate my abilities to the 
     service and welfare of the people of Ireland. Even then I was 
     acutely aware of how broad that term ``the people of 
     Ireland'' is and how it resisted any fixed or narrow 
     definition. One of my purposes here today is to suggest that, 
     far from seeking to categorize or define it, we widen it 
     still further to make it as broad and inclusive as possible.
       At my inauguration I spoke of the seventy million people 
     worldwide who can claim Irish descent. I also committed my 
     Presidency to cherishing them--even though at the time I was 
     thinking of doing so in a purely symbolic way. Nevertheless 
     the simple emblem of a light in the window, for me, and I 
     hope for them, signifies the inextinguishable nature of our 
     love and remembrance on this island for those who leave it 
     behind.
       But in the intervening four years something has occurred in 
     my life which I share with many deputies and senators here 
     and with most Irish families. In that time I have put faces 
     and names to many of those individuals.
       In places as far apart as Calcutta and Toronto, on a number 
     of visits to Britain and the United States, in cities in 
     Tanzania and Hungary and Australia, I have met young people 
     from throughout the island of Ireland who felt they had no 
     choice but to emigrate. I have also met men and women who may 
     never have seen this island but whose identity with it is 
     part of their own self-definition. Last summer, in the city 
     of Cracow, I was greeted in Irish by a Polish student, a 
     member of the Polish-Irish Society. In Zimbabwe I learned 
     that the Mashonaland Irish Association had recently 
     celebrated its centenary. In each country I visited I have 
     met Irish communities, often in far-flung places, and 
     listened to stories of men and women whose pride and 
     affection for Ireland have neither deserted them nor deterred 
     them from dedicating their loyalty and energies to other 
     countries and cultures. None are a greater source of pride 
     than the missionaries and aid workers who bring such 
     dedication, humour and practical common sense to often very 
     demanding work. Through this office, I have been a witness to 
     the stories these people and places have to tell.
       The more I know of these stories the more it seems to me an 
     added richness of our heritage that Irishness is not simply 
     territorial. In fact Irishness as a concept seems to me at 
     its strongest when it reaches out to everyone on this island 
     and shows itself capable of honouring and listening to those 
     whose sense of identity, and whose cultural values, may be 
     more British than Irish. It can be strengthened again if we 
     turn with open minds and hearts to the array of people 
     outside Ireland for whom this island is a place of origin. 
     After all, emigration is not just a chronicle of sorrow and 
     regret. It is also a powerful story of contribution and 
     adaptation. In fact, I have become more convinced each year 
     that this great narrative of dispossession and belonging, 
     which so often had its origins in sorrow and leave-taking, 
     has become--with a certain amount of historic irony--one of 
     the treasures of our society. If that is so then our relation 
     with the diaspora beyond our shores is one which can instruct 
     our society in the values of diversity, tolerance, and fair-
     mindedness.
       To speak of our society in these terms is itself a 
     reference in shorthand to the vast distances we have traveled 
     as a people. This island has been inhabited for more than 
     five thousand years. It has been shaped by pre-Celtic 
     wanderers, by Celts, Vikings, Normans, Hugenots, Scottish and 
     English settlers. Whatever the rights or wrongs of history, 
     all those people marked this island: down to the small detail 
     of the distinctive ship-building of the Vikings, the linen-
     making of the Hugenots, the words of Planter balladeers. How 
     could we remove any one of these things from what
      we call our Irishness? Far from wanting to do so, we need to 
     recover them so as to deepen our understanding.
       Nobody knows this more than the local communities 
     throughout the island of Ireland who are retrieving the 
     history of their own areas. Through the rediscovery of that 
     local history, young people are being drawn into their past 
     in ways that help their future. These projects not only 
     generate employment; they also regenerate our sense of who we 
     were. I think of projects like the Ceide Fields in Mayo, 
     where the intriguing agricultural structures of settlers from 
     thousands of years ago are being explored through scholarship 
     and field work. Or Castletown House in Kildare where the 
     grace of our Anglo-Irish architectural heritage is being 
     restored with scrupulous respect for detail. The important 
     excavations at Navan fort in Armagh are providing us with 
     vital information about early settlers whose proved existence 
     illuminates both legend and history. In Ballance House in 
     Antrim the Ulster-New Zealand Society have restored the 
     birthplace of John Ballance, who became Prime Minister of New 
     Zealand and led that country to be the first in the world to 
     give the vote to women.
       Varied as these projects may seem to be, the reports they 
     bring us are consistently challenging in that they may not 
     suite any one version of ourselves. I for one welcome that 
     challenge. Indeed, when we consider the Irish migrations of 
     the 17th, 18th, 19th and 20th centuries our pre-conceptions 
     are challenged again. There is a growing literature which 
     details the fortunes of the Irish in Europe and later in 
     Canada, America, Australia, Argentina. These important 
     studies of migration have the power to surprise us. They also 
     demand from us honesty and self-awareness in return. If we 
     expect that the mirror held up to us by Irish communities 
     abroad will show us a single familiar identity, or a pure 
     strain of Irishness, we will be 
     [[Page S3146]] disappointed. We will overlook the fascinating 
     diversity of culture and choice which looks back at us. Above 
     all we will miss the chance to have that dialogue with our 
     own diversity which this reflection offers us.
       This year we begin to commemorate the Irish famine which 
     started 150 years ago. All parts of this island--north and 
     south, east and west--will see their losses noted and 
     remembered, both locally and internationally. This year we 
     will see those local and global connections made obvious in 
     the most poignant ways. But they have always been there.
       Last year, for example, I went to Grosse Isle, an island on 
     the St. Lawrence river near Quebec city. I arrived in heavy 
     rain and as I looked at the mounds which, together with white 
     crosses, are all that mark the mass graves of the five 
     thousand or more Irish people who died there, I was struck by 
     the sheer power of commemoration. I was also aware that, even 
     across time and distance, tragedy must be seen as human and 
     not historic, and that to think of it in national terms alone 
     can obscure that fact. And
      as I stood looking at Irish graves, I was also listening to 
     the story of the French Canadian families who braved fever 
     and shared their food, who took the Irish into their homes 
     and into their heritage.
       Indeed, the woman who told me that story had her own 
     origins in the arrival at Grosse Ile. She spoke to me in her 
     native French and, with considerable pride, in her inherited 
     Irish. The more I have travelled the more I have seen that 
     the Irish language since the famine has endured in the 
     accents of New York and Toronto and Sydney, not to mention 
     Camden Town. As such it is an interesting record of survival 
     and adaptation. But long before that, it had standing as a 
     scholarly European language. The Irish language has the 
     history of Europe off by heart. It contains a valuable record 
     of European culture from before the Roman conquest there. It 
     is not surprising therefore that it is studied today in 
     universities from Glasgow to Moscow and from Seattle to 
     Indiana. And why indeed should I have been surprised to have 
     been welcomed in Cracow in Irish by a Polish student? I take 
     pleasure and pride in hearing Irish spoken in other countries 
     just as I am moved to hear the rhythms of our songs and our 
     poetry finding a home in other tongues and other traditions. 
     It proves to me what so many Irish abroad already know: that 
     Ireland can be loved in any language.
       The weight of the past, the researches of our local 
     interpreters and the start of the remembrance of the famine 
     all, in my view, point us towards a single reality: that 
     commemoration is a moral act, just as our relation in this 
     country to those who have left it is a moral relationship. We 
     have too much at stake in both not to be rigorous.
       We cannot have it both ways. We cannot want a complex 
     present and still yearn for a simple past. I was very aware 
     of that when I visited the refugee camps in Somalia and more 
     recently in Tanzania
      and Zaire. The thousands of men and women and children who 
     came to those camps were, as the Irish of the 1840s were, 
     defenseless in the face of catastrophe. Knowing our own 
     history, I saw the tragedy of their hunger as a human 
     disaster. We, of all people, know it is vital that it be 
     carefully analyzed so that their children and their 
     children's children be spared that ordeal. We realize that 
     while a great part of our concern for their situation, as 
     Irish men and women who have a past which includes famine, 
     must be at practical levels of help, another part of it 
     must consist of a humanitarian perspective which springs 
     directly from our self-knowledge as a people. Famine is 
     not only humanly destructive, it is culturally 
     disfiguring. The Irish who died at Grosset Isle were men 
     and women with plans and dreams of future achievements. It 
     takes from their humanity and individuality to consider 
     them merely as victims.
       Therefore it seemed to me vital, even as I watched the 
     current tragedy in Africa, that we should uphold the dignity 
     of the men and women who suffer there by insisting there are 
     no inevitable victims. It is important that in our own 
     commemoration of famine, such reflections have a place. As 
     Tom Murphy has eloquently said in an introduction to his play 
     FAMINE: ``a hungry and demoralized people becomes silent''. 
     We cannot undo the silence of our own past, but we can lend 
     our voice to those who now suffer. To do so we must look at 
     our history, in the light of this commemoration, with a clear 
     insight which exchanges the view that we were inevitable 
     victims in it, for an active involvement in the present 
     application of its meaning. We can examine in detail 
     humanitarian relief then and relate it to humanitarian relief 
     now and assess the inadequacies of both. And this is not just 
     a task for historians. I have met children in schools and men 
     and women all over Ireland who make an effortless and 
     sympathetic connection between our past suffering and the 
     present tragedies of hunger in the world. One of the common 
     bonds between us and our diaspora can be to share this 
     imaginative way of re-interpreting the past. I am certain 
     that they, too, will feel that the best possible 
     commemoration of the men and women who died in that famine, 
     who were cast up on other shores because of it, is to take 
     their dispossession into the present with us, to help others 
     who now suffer in a similar way.
       Therefore I welcome all initiatives being taken during this 
     period of commemoration, many of which can be linked with 
     those abroad, to contribute to the study and understanding of 
     economic vulnerability. I include in that all the 
     illustrations of the past which help us understand the 
     present. In the Famine Museum in Strokestown, there is a 
     vivid and careful re-telling of what happened during the 
     Famine. When we stand in front of those images I believe we 
     have a responsibility to understand them in human terms now, 
     not just in Irish terms then. They should inspire us to be a 
     strong voice in the analysis of the cause and the cure of 
     conditions that predispose to world hunger, whether that 
     involves
      us in the current debate about access to adequate water 
     supplies or the protection of economic migrants. We need 
     to remember that our own diaspora was once vulnerable on 
     both those counts. We should bear in mind that an analysis 
     of sustainable development, had it existed in the past, 
     might well have saved some of our people from the tragedy 
     we are starting to commemorate.
       I chose the title of this speech-cherishing the Irish 
     diaspora--with care. Diaspora, in its meaning of dispersal or 
     scattering, includes the many ways, not always chosen, that 
     people have left this island. To cherish is to value and to 
     nurture and support. If we are honest we will acknowledge 
     that those who leave do not always feel cherished. As Eavan 
     Boland reminds us in her poem ``The Emigrant Irish'':

     ``Like oil lamps we put them out the back,
     ``Of our houses, of our minds.''

       To cherish also means that we are ready to accept new 
     dimensions of the diaspora. Many of us over the years--and I 
     as President--have direct experience of the warmth and 
     richness of the Irish-American contribution and tradition, 
     and its context in the hospitality of that country. I am also 
     aware of the creation energies of these born on this island 
     who are now making their lives in the United States and in so 
     many other countries. We need to accept that in their new 
     perspectives may well be a critique of our old ones. But if 
     cherishing the diaspora is to be more than a sentimental 
     regard for those who leave our shores, we should not only 
     listen to their voice and their viewpoint. We have a 
     responsibility to respond warmly to their expressed desire 
     for appropriate fora for dialogue and interaction with us by 
     examining in an open and generous way the possible linkages. 
     We should accept that such a challenge is an education in 
     diversity which can only benefit our society.
       Indeed there are a variety of opportunities for co-
     operation on this island which will allow us new ways to 
     cherish the diaspora. Many of those opportunities can be 
     fruitfully explored by this oireachtas. Many will be taken 
     further by local communities. Some are already in operation. 
     Let me mention just one example here. One of the most 
     understandable and poignant concerns of any diaspora is to 
     break the silence: to find out the names and places or 
     origin. If we are to cherish them, we have to assist in that 
     utterly understandable human longing. The Irish Genealogical 
     Project, which is supported by both governments, is 
     transferring handwritten records from local registers of 
     births, deaths and marriages, on to computer. It uses modern 
     technology to allow men and women, whose origins are written 
     down in records from Kerry to Antrim, to gain access to them. 
     In the process it provides employment and training for young 
     people in both technology and history. And the recent 
     establishment of a council of genealogical organizations, 
     again involving both parts of this island, shows the 
     potential, for voluntary co-operation.
       I turn now to those records which are still only being 
     written. No family on this island can be untouched by the 
     fact that so many of our young people leave it. The reality 
     is that we have lost, and continue every day to lose, their 
     presence and their brightness. These young people leave 
     Ireland to make new lives in demanding urban environments. As 
     well as having to search for jobs, they may well find 
     themselves lonely, homesick, unable to speak the language of 
     those around them; and if things do not work out, unwilling 
     to accept the loss of face of returning home. It hardly 
     matters at that point whether they are graduate or unskilled. 
     What matters is that they should have access to the support 
     and advice they need. It seems to me, therefore, that one of 
     the best ways to cherish the diaspora is to begin at home. We 
     need to integrate into our educational and social and 
     counselling services an array of skills of adaptation and a 
     depth of support which will prepare them for this first 
     gruelling challenge of adulthood.
       The urgency of this preparation, and its outcome, allow me 
     an opportunity to pay tribute to the voluntary agencies who 
     respond with such practical compassion and imagination to the 
     Irish recently arrived in other countries. I have welcomed 
     many of their representatives to Aras an Uachtarain and I 
     have also seen their work in cities such as New York and 
     Melbourne and Manchester, where their response on a day-to-
     day basis may be vital to someone who has newly arrived. It 
     is hard to overestimate the difference which personal warmth 
     and wise advice, as well as practical support, can make in 
     these situations.
       I pay a particular tribute to those agencies in Britain--
     both British and Irish--whose generous support and services, 
     across a whole range of needs have been recognized by 
     successive Irish governments through the Dion project. These 
     services extend across employment, housing and welfare and 
     make a practical link between Irish people and the future 
     they are constructing in a new environment. Compassionate 
     assistance is given, not simply to the young and newly 
     arrived, 
     [[Page S3147]] but to the elderly, the sick including those 
     isolated by HIV or AIDS, and those suffering hardship through 
     alcohol or drug dependency or who are in prison. Although I 
     think of myself as trying to keep up with this subject, I 
     must say I was struck by the sheer scale of the effort which 
     has been detailed in recent reports published under the 
     auspices of the Federation of Irish Societies. These show a 
     level of concern and understanding which finds practical 
     expression every day through these agencies and gives true 
     depth to the meaning of the word cherish.
       When I was a student, away from home, and homesick for my 
     family and my friends and my country, I walked out one 
     evening and happened to go into a Boston newsagent's shop. 
     There, just at the back of the news stand, almost to my 
     disbelief, was ``The Western People.'' I will never forget 
     the joy with which I bought it and
      took it back with me and found, of course, that the river 
     Moy was still there and the Cathedral was still standing. 
     I remember the hunger with which I read the news from 
     home. I know that story has a thousand versions. But I 
     also know it has a single meaning. Part of cherishing must 
     be communication. The journey which an Irish newspaper 
     once made to any point outside Ireland was circumscribed 
     by the limits of human travel. In fact, it replicated the 
     slow human journey through ports and on ships and 
     airplanes. Now that journey can be transformed, through 
     modern on-line communications, into one of almost 
     instantaneous arrival.
       We are at the centre of an adventure in human information 
     and communication greater than any other since the invention 
     of the printing press. We will see our lives changed by that. 
     We still have time to influence the process and I am glad to 
     see that we in Ireland are doing this. In some cases this may 
     merely involve drawing attention to what already exists. The 
     entire Radio 1 service of RTE is now transmitted live over 
     most of Europe on the Astra satellite. In North America we 
     have a presence through the Galaxy satellite. There are 
     several internet providers in Ireland and bulletin boards 
     with community database throughout the island. The magic of 
     E-mail surmounts time and distance and cost. And the splendid 
     and relatively recent technology of the World Wide Web means 
     that local energies and powerful opportunities of access are 
     being made available on the information highway.
       The shadow of departure will never be lifted. The grief of 
     seeing a child or other family member leave Ireland will 
     always remain sharp and the absence will never be easy to 
     bear. But we can make their lives easier if we use this new 
     technology to being the news from home. As a people, we are 
     proud of our story-telling, our literature, our theatre, our 
     ability to improvise with words. And there is a temptation to 
     think that we put that at risk if we espouse these new forms 
     of communications. In fact we can profoundly enrich the 
     method of contact by the means of expression, and we can and 
     should--as a people who have a painful historic experience of 
     silence and absence--welcome and use the noise, the 
     excitement, the speed of contact and the sheer exuberance of 
     these new forms.
       This is the second time I have addressed the two Houses of 
     the Oireachtas as provided under the Constitution. I welcome 
     the opportunity it has given me to highlight this important 
     issue at a very relevant moment for us all. The men and women 
     of our diaspora represent not simply a series of departures 
     and losses. They remain, even while absent, a precious 
     reflection of our own growth and change, a precious reminder 
     of the many strands of identity which compose our story. They 
     have come, either now or in the past, from Derry and Dublin 
     and Cork and Belfast. They know the names of our townlands 
     and villages. They remember our landscape or they have heard 
     of it. They look at us anxiously to include them in our sense 
     of ourselves and not to forget their contribution while we 
     make our own. The debate about how to best engage their 
     contribution with our own has many aspects and offers 
     opportunities for new structures and increased contact.
       If I have been able to add something to this process of 
     reflection and to encourage a more practical expression of 
     the concerns we share about our sense of ourselves at home 
     and abroad then I am grateful to have had your attention here 
     today. Finally, I know this Oireachtas will agree with me 
     that the truest way of cherishing our diaspora is to offer 
     them, at all times, the reality of this island as a place of 
     peace where the many diverse traditions in which so many of 
     them have their origins, their memories, their hopes are 
     bound together in tolerance and understanding.
     

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