IT’S BEEN A year since the election of Donald J Trump as the 45th President of the United States and all of our deepest fears have been realised.
The arguments put forward in the days following his victory that he would act very differently as Commander-in-Chief than as a candidate, have all fallen asunder. He is every inch the dangerous, willfully ignorant, despicable racist that many had feared.
His ‘Travel Ban’, his assault on Obamacare, his Transgender Ban in the military, his pandering to white supremacists, his withdrawal from the Paris Accord, his preposterous tax plan, his bizarre posturing with North Korea. The list is endless when trying to give an assessment on one of the most depressing years in modern American political history.
The fact that truth is irrelevant, that common courtesy and diplomatic procedure are tossed aside, that no personal jibe is considered beneath him is all part of this new affront to ‘political correctness’.
We are standing between Trump and Brexit
In Ireland we stand between Trump and Brexit, another political earthquake which at its heart was an anti-immigration instinct that no amount of rational debate could overcome. The single most-successful entity in preventing European rivalry from spilling over into disaster has been the European Union and small-minded nationalism is threatening its very existence.
Macron may have defeated Le Pen in France but she received one-third of the vote. Austria have elected far-right parliamentarians for the first time in post-war history and came within an ace of electing one as president.
Far-right anti-immigrant sentiment is rising across Europe and is threatening the viability of the European project which was born out of the blood and misery of the Second World War.
Why should the Irish care?
Because we are ideally placed to be a beacon of hope for something more profound, more decent and more enduring than flag-waving populism. We’ve been through too much suffering in our history and in recent years to reduce ourselves to a blame game focused on a powerless or vulnerable group.
Also because perhaps we wince when we recognise the surnames of those staffers and spokespeople who robustly defend Trump’s indefensible presidency: their names tend to be Irish.
His Chief of Staff who recently caused controversy over Civil War-related comments is a man called Kelly. His adviser who refers to ‘alternative facts’ is a Conway. His extreme right-wing former advisor is a Bannon. His national security advisor who is famed for breaking up families at the Southern Border is a Flynn. His Vice-President has Irish-born grandparents.
On St Patrick’s Day 2017 without a hint of irony the decision to cut famine relief programmes was made by Secretary Mick Mulvaney. The Republican Speaker of the House is a Ryan. His biggest backer in the media is a Hannitty, and previously a guy called O’Reilly.
The Irish are for Trump. So perhaps we should say something about that.
The Irish story is one of immigration
When Mexicans are generalised with a negative stereotype the Irish understand that, because we walked that path. When Muslims suffer religious intolerance, the Irish understand that, because we walked that path. When coffin ships full of Syrians are told they’re not welcome, the Irish understand that, because we walked that path.
We fled famine, sectarian hatred, violence and oppression here in Ireland. We walked that path. And we have a moral and historic duty to walk that same path with others today.
On St Patrick’s Day 2017 in New York City, in the wake of Trump’s inauguration and the stench of his ‘Travel Ban’ still in the air a group calling itself ‘Irish Stand’ gathered over 1500 people into the iconic Riverside Church and resisted Trump with song and story.
We laughed, we cried, we stood together and we raised over $20,000 for the American Civil Liberties Union. It touched a nerve within the Irish community because for some reason Irish-America is now more associated with the ‘haves’ than the ‘have-nots’. Maybe we were helping Irish-America to find its soul again. Maybe Ireland needs to find its soul again too.
I was explaining to a New York Times journalist last week about what the 1980s was like in Ireland. And that the 1990s was different because of a more well-travelled and open-minded generation, coupled with an economic improvement and a cultural expansion that made us feel proud of things that had previously been slightly stale.
The GAA, Irish dancing and the Irish language became sexy. We even began to produce boy-bands. And then we lost ourselves. Smugness took over. Excess was the theme. And we became unlikeable, and unlike ourselves.
It’s our duty to remind the world of our immigrant past
We have an opportunity now after all we’ve experienced, to speak of what is truly important in life. That collectivism matters. That watching out for each other matters. We lost that in the Celtic Tiger Years but if anything can be garnered from the humiliation of the crash and its aftermath, is the importance of not letting ourselves turn in on each other.
We, of course, have our own domestic challenges, and we have a responsibility to face them. But we can take some pride in the fact that no mainstream Irish political party has ever sunk to the depths of anti-immigrant rhetoric of Donald Trump.
The Irish need to remind the world of our immigrant past. In fact it is our duty.
Aodhán Ó Ríordáin is a Labour Party Senator. Today, Wednesday, the anniversary of Trump’s election, the Irish are taking another stand, this time in Liberty Hall and this time in aid of The Irish Refugee Council’s work with children in Ireland’s Direct Provision Asylum System. We’ll be joined by Frances Black, David O’Doherty, Panti Bliss and a host of inspirational international speakers and performers. The cost of an adult ticket is priced at €21.60 – the allowance given to each resident of Direct Provision per week. Tickets are available here.
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