May 6, 2024 - 4:00pm

J.R.R. Tolkien once noted that there was something malign about the Irish landscape, a darkness only held in check by the faith of its inhabitants. Preposterous or not, it’s hard to deny that a dark spirit has recently been unleashed in the Irish countryside. As resistance to the housing of migrants in towns across the country has grown, it has become forceful in a way unthinkable even a few years ago, as illustrated by the historically massive anti-immigration march taking place in Dublin today.

Whether it is mysterious fires, protestors marching behind a banner saying “we will not be replaced”, footage of builders being menaced in Aughrim or “Irish Only or the House Burns” graffiti on council houses, what strikes the onlooker is how direct, aggressive and coordinated the anti-immigration response is.

In the pre-Ukraine era, the absence of such activism in Ireland, and Right-wing politics generally, was often celebrated. The official line was that the Irish history of emigration and colonialism made us uniquely resistant to these sentiments. This claim has now been stress-tested and found to be untrue. Could it be that our history makes such a response not impossible, but inevitable?

Anti-immigration activists would certainly say so, as they have embraced elements of Irish history sidelined by mainstream commentators. These activists consistently refer to the housing of asylum seekers as “plantation centres” and of migrants being “planted” in rural communities, evoking memories of Irish people being driven off their land during the 17th century so that it could be given to loyalist settlers. The comparison may be spurious and the Irish establishment has resisted it, but it’s also pretty obvious. The plantations are among the most powerful images that can be invoked in Irish culture. Respectable opinion has been wrong-footed by protesters’ employment of rhetoric that is partly anticolonial in nature, and that leverages elements of the struggle for Irish nationhood.

Another obvious point of comparison for the current turmoil that both sides have resisted are the agrarian secret societies that flourished in Ireland in the 18th and 19th centuries. These oathsworn gangs of poor rural Catholics (Protestant versions also existed) acted against unfair land practices including evictions, and the collection of tithes for the Anglican Church. The most famous example were the Whiteboys, so-called because of the white smocks they wore. The Whiteboys were known to hobble cattle, destroy property, and send threatening letters written under pseudonyms such as “Captain Moonlight”. The groups were not entirely secret and often staged public marches and parades. Whiteboyism became sufficiently troubling to the British government at the end of the 18th century that it provoked a harsh military response, as well as a number of Parliamentary acts.

Land and property are central factors in how Irish people see themselves, their country and their history. Their centrality has only increased in the era of housing crises and mass immigration. Many Irish would be scandalised at the thought of comparing what is happening now to historic resistance to landlordism and enforced displacement, and of course the two things don’t map perfectly.

But far from being unknown, direct and violent action on these topics where it seems that locals are being treated unfavourably or resources are being concentrated in the hands of outsiders are very common in Irish history. Denials to the contrary always had a panicked edge. Beyond “point and sputter” respectable opinion has been unable to think of a new response to activists effectively leveraging Irish history in a forbidden way.

Indeed, there is no obvious one, short of turning off the internet and conducting mass arrests. Intentionally or not, forces that were happily dormant have stirred again. Now roused, it will be hard to send them back to sleep.


Conor Fitzgerald is a writer from Dublin. His Substack is TheFitzstack.

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