In 2019 it’s awful hard not to look around the world and wonder at all that could have been prevented with the reading of a history book or two. Particularly with Brexit. I studied history for years and I remember a relative asking me how I spent so long at it when it’s just facts and dates? I explained that if you asked a unionist and a nationalist in Northern Ireland about Bloody Sunday, you’d get the date alright and the fact that 28 people were shot but after that you’d get very different histories. In times of crisis, a go-to solution is that the remedy be taught in the schools. If the teaching of British history was more effective would Brexit have ever happened? But the teaching of history is perhaps a more delicate task than some think. Whose history is taught? In Ireland, how do we harness the empathy our nation’s history can impart without descending into Brit-bashing? And how do we teach kids the skills of critical evaluation they’ll need to resist the manipulation of history by opportunists looking for their vote when they turn 18?
Irish history is perhaps one of the greatest resources going for the teaching of empathy. Throughout history Ireland got it from all sides; we suffered politically, economically, militarily, socially, you name it. For previous generations, the Irish syndrome of MOPE – Most Oppressed People Ever – blinded many to the suffering of others (a more serious version of “oh, you think you had it bad in Alabama? Wait until I tell you about the Famine”). This sometimes led to the Irish siding with oppressors rather than the oppressed. But these days Irish history serves to teach us how fortunate we are and how valuable democracy and freedom of expression. Because we know of a time when civil rights were denied us, many Irish people are at the forefront of safeguarding of human rights all over the world. Imagine it like a quiz show,
“Okay Ireland, for ten points, what have you got for unequal distribution of wealth?” Land ownership in Ireland and the efforts of the Land League to secure the three Fs, fair rent, fixity of tenure and free sale.
“Okay, so, what about racism?” Meted out in buckets to Irish migrants abroad.
“Ireland, for fifteen points, what can you share with us on the migrant crisis?” Coffin ships and eighteenth and nineteenth-century transportation to Australia and the West Indies, among others. A song called The Fields of Athenry.
“Okay, bonus ten points if you’ve anything to teach us about starvation and/or environmental justice?” The Great Irish Famine.
“And to take home this week’s prize, a fine fridge, can Irish history teach its citizens anything about the evils of civil rights abuses?” Northern Ireland.
If one is lacking in sympathy for the protests in Hong Kong, and inclined to accept the Chinese line that the protestors are rabble rousers intent on destabilizing Hong Kong, then we flick back through our black book of Things That Used to be Said About the Irish and find under ‘C’ for civil rights, the exact same line being parroted about the civil rights protesters of the 1960s in the north. If we can zoom in to learn individual stories like our those of our forefathers, then we can zoom out to understand the forces that shape the events of the past and the present.
Seeing international crises from more than one angle teaches students empathy but it also teaches them that there is no one single correct human history. There’s no single history, but part of teaching history is the sharing of a general narrative that we can all rally to, as was the case with the 1916 centenary. Part of the reason that the 1916 centenary celebrations were so successful was that 1916 was made relatable to us by telling as many stories as possible, from Joe Duffy’s work on the children killed during the Rising to the work on the role of women and the experience of those who had enlisted with the British army. No longer is history merely a Brit-bashing session, as previous generations of students’ learned history had been, far too often to their detriment. In the 1990s we weren’t taught that unionists might have a history worth protecting too. I was well in my teens before I realized that Protestants were as Irish as I was, and it took me a long time to realize that Ireland wasn’t top, front and center of the British agenda at all times (there was the Falklands and oil crises and Egypt and two world wars and India took up a far bit of their time there for a while too). No book, TV series or documentary narrated by Liam Neeson will ever be as resonant as the history taught by a primary school teacher. Where do you know your history from? Given how central primary teachers are to the shaping of students’ ideas of Ireland’s history and heritage, today we focus less on the political history and focus more on the less contentious histories like ‘cars in Ireland’ and genealogy and Norman castles. If we’re going to get thick at anyone let it be the Vikings.
Oh Jesus Doireann does it really matter? It all sounds shocking complicated, should we not just have them doing more PE instead? Effective teaching of history does matter. When you’re done fostering a national spirit, connecting children with their heritage and their story and showing them how to view history from several angles not just their own, then you’re most of the way there to training them to spot jingoistic bullshitters who’ll fit an entire historical event in one tweet without context just to get their vote. Remember, Brexit was delivered by soundbite reminiscences of wartime spirit with little or no reference to the horrifying destruction and death toll of the Blitz. Johnson likes to compare himself to Churchill (the World War II war-time spirit Churchill, not the WW1 version of Churchill whose fucking-up of the Dardanelles campaigns led to the deaths of thousands of soldiers or whose complicity in the chaotic and bloody partition of India is conveniently set aside). Conservative Americans have lost the run of themselves altogether with the rosy view of a time when America was great in a way it apparently isn’t now, without noting of course that it was great for them but not so great for people who weren’t white. Invoking of patriotism brushes over any unsavory activities such as the denial of rights to citizens under the post-9/11 PATRIOT Act (officially the Uniting and Strengthening America by Providing Appropriate Tools Required to Intercept and Obstruct Terrorism Act) to gun rights to straight-up racism. If we teach history correctly, we’re teaching children to pause and ask, ‘how would I feel if I was the group being targeted by this international leader’? We’re teaching them to pause before signing up to make a country great again because they recognize that there’s nothing beyond the sloganeering. We’re teaching them to recognize when they’re being caricatured as victims for the profiteering of others; i.e. right-wing politicians or pundits telling young men that liberals are out to get them or that feminism will be the end of masculinity. Not on my watch! We are training a squadron of crack bullshit spotters when we’re teaching history correctly! We’re also training children to be a whole lot nicer to each other.
When we teach history correctly, we’re enabling some serious critical thinking – the shield that protects citizens from being duped by opportunists. By understanding that there is no single history – as many unionists and nationalists and more in between did when the Good Friday Agreement was negotiated and signed – we learn to live together in understanding. We argue way less. We fight fewer wars. We learn to use our histories to promote understanding and compassion, not bigotry and hatred. That’s why history’s class see.
doireann.ie 