[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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