We Don't Know Ourselves: A Personal History of Modern Ireland

by Fintan O'Toole

The Fianna Fáil TD I was having a drink with was both happy and sad. He had, against the grain of most of his party, supported repeal and he was pleased that it had passed so emphatically. He was sad because he had not spoken to his elderly parents, who were in their eighties, for a few weeks. They lived on a small farm. They were devout Catholics. They belonged to the old world that was now vanquished. Since he had come out in favour of repeal, he had felt uneasy with them. He avoided talking in particular to his father about the subject, certain that it would lead only to awkwardness and upset. While we were chatting, his phone rang and he answered it. It was his sister at home on the farm. I couldn’t help overhearing the conversation. She was very happy with the result, too, and they talked about that. Then he asked her how their father and mother were taking it all. Delighted, she said – sure both of the parents had voted for repeal. ‘Daddy said he couldn’t bear thinking of all those women coming back from England and not being able to tell anyone what they were going through.’ There had been, all along in the old man’s mind, another history, a history of migrants and absentees, of secrets and silences. He was, it seemed, glad to let it out at last.