Ireland is No Longer Deeply Catholic, But it’s Just as Religious

Currents


 

N oam Chomsky, of all people, once said that “If we don't believe in freedom of expression for people we despise, we don't believe in it at all.” It’s easy to stand up for speech you agree with, as doing so merely protects your own right to be heard. Real freedom of speech is best exemplified by Evelyn Beatrice Hall’s famous line: “I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.” This ideal came to mind when controversy raged in Ireland this past June in the aftermath of the government’s plan to remove all mention of the word “woman” from maternal protection legislation in an effort to be more trans-friendly. When the popular Irish radio talk show Liveline subsequently hosted debates about trans politics and language, Dublin Pride, one of Ireland’s largest LGBT groups, terminated its media partnership with RTÉ, Liveline’s host station. This development is part and parcel of Ireland’s long history of conforming to the socio-cultural authorities of the day. We used to take our cues from the Catholic Church. Now, we take them from the High Priests of Wokeism.

Liveline is a fixture of Irish radio, where listeners call in to have their views heard on issues that run the gamut from the cost of living crisis, to the future of the health service, to the latest trending YouTube craze or TV show. The opinions expressed by Liveline’s avid listeners range from the moving to the questionable, the wacky to the wonderful, and this element of surprise is what has made the show so appealing. Liveline’s popularity is derived from its willingness to give a platform to those who, particularly prior to the advent of social media, would otherwise be relegated to silence.

Ireland has always had a complicated relationship with freedom of speech. There is a part of the Irish psyche that seems to yearn for a central, guiding force dictating what is allowable and what is not. This force has varied throughout our history, but by virtue of deciding what is acceptable to wear, say, read, and think, it has, in effect, determined what it means to be Irish. Colonised by the British Empire for much of its history, Ireland’s predominantly Catholic population were denied, among other things, the right to worship, vote, speak their language, and own land. The Irish people, historically conditioned to having their way of life imposed by an occupying power, have grown accustomed to conforming to the standards set by a top-down authority — and to ostracising those who deviate from the norm.

When Ireland received independence in 1922 after multiple uprisings and rebellions, an obvious vacuum was created. Ireland had been told for centuries what it could not be, but it now had to decide what it wanted to become. It chose to become a deeply Catholic country, where the influence of the Church spanned all sectors of society from education to healthcare. Psychologist Maria Murray writes that a post-colonial search for identity often “Brings about an over-correction, an extreme swing in the opposite direction.” Catholic moral code was enshrined in virtually all aspects of Irish law. Divorce and remarriage were banned until 1995. Children of marriages between Catholics and Protestants had to be brought up Catholic. Abortion was outlawed until 2018 when it was legalised by referendum. The Irish Constitution itself includes a provision asserting to this day that the role of a woman is in the home. The Church also controlled the country’s relationship with the media and speech. When films, radio, or television upset the Church’s moral autocrats with heretical messaging or content deemed lewd by priests and bishops, they soon reliably buckled under a hail of official condemnations and public anger, sometimes cancelling programmes.

The tides have changed over the past few decades, and the role of the Catholic Church has diminished. Marriage equality was legalised by popular vote. Mass attendance in Ireland has collapsed, leading to headlines such as The Economist’s “The liberalisation of Ireland: How Ireland stopped being one of the most devout, socially conservative places in Europe.” While most of Ireland still nominally identifies as Catholic, the influence of the Church is damaged beyond repair. Reports of child abuse at the hands of Catholic priests as well as active cover-ups fueled the Church’s decline alongside broader trends towards secularisation in the West. The same Irish conformist streak that enabled such dogmatic loyalism to the Church also contributed to the nation’s abandonment of it. Once growing numbers decided it was acceptable to reject Church teachings, others were more than happy to oblige. Once again, another gaping void was left to be filled. Stripped of their moral authority, the Catholic teachings that were once, well, taken as Gospel, lost their hold. The latest cultural force willing to fill that power vacuum is one we see storming across the Western world, a radical and illiberal brand of far-left social justice activism known generally as wokeness or wokeism.

 
 

That is why, when observing the incandescent backlash received by Liveline after hosting debates about trans-related issues, so many of us couldn’t help but be reminded of the hold the bishops used to have over public discourse. When Dublin Pride severed ties with RTÉ, accusing them of “[Stoking] the flames of anti-trans rhetoric”, a number of influential left-wing politicians, including those from the Social Democrats, Labour Party, and People Before Profit also denounced the programme. Bosses from the head office of RTÉ were called before a legislative committee to account for the “anti-trans” debates, a request that has since been dropped. Members of the wider public, particularly trans activists, said they felt that the debates “dehumanised” trans people. A handful of callers did make some remarks considered offensive, however they were generally rebuked by the hosts on-air. What most offended activists was not a few older callers misgendering people, but rather that the issue was up for debate at all. It would be shocking if this firestorm didn’t have a chilling effect on the prospect of future debates across the nation.

The need to discuss important issues seems obvious, and yet in today’s political climate, it is consistently disregarded. If you want to institute fundamental changes to the law, the language, and social norms, you must engage in the act of persuasion. By refusing to debate, and constantly attempting to shut them down, you cede the floor to those you disagree with, sending them underground, their arguments unrebutted and uncriticized. Sentiments deemed “anti-trans” will never be defeated with suppression. Ideas become more powerful, not less, when they are censored and silenced — remember that before attempting to quash inconvenient discourse and shout down any dissenters. If you want to win the public over to your point of view, debate is a necessity, not a luxury.

Groupthink and blind conformity are destructive no matter who you cede your individuality to. Ireland and its people were not well-served when a small group of religious leaders held the power to decide what should and should not be acceptable. Handing those same reins over to a cult of political zealots will be no improvement. What we need is to think for ourselves. Liberals such as John Stuart Mill and Jonathan Rauch have long argued that it is the prioritisation of personal autonomy and individual freedom that protects minority communities such as LGBT people. An environment which rejects tribalism and “tyranny of the majority” mob rule while protecting speech is one in which persecution is less likely. The pity is that those who most sorely need to recognise this cling to the delusion that they will be safe because their faction is in power, not realising how quickly the winds can change. A tool, once created, can be picked up by anyone, including one’s adversaries, as Robespierre found out the hard way.

As we continuously look for meaning, community, and connection in our lives, particularly now that organised religion is losing its once iron grip, we must not replace religious autocracy with political autocracy. Politics and social movements will never fulfil our spiritual needs in the way some seem to think. It will never fill that hole in your heart. To replace Catholicism with critical social justice and the bishops with the High Priests of Wokeism is a grave mistake, but it seems to be the path we’re blindly treading. The antidote is to remain steadfast in our commitment to listen to different points of view, to prioritise those positions backed by data and evidence, to place pragmatism above ideology, and to choose free thought above self-enforced groupthink. The road out of this begins with every individual. We must stop trading one cultural sovereign for another and be our own masters.

Published aug 17, 2022
Updated Sep 2, 2022

 

Published in Currents