A different lens on the Irish Revolution

Burns Visiting Scholar Caoimhe Nic Dháibhéid explores its impact through a human dimension

For Caoimhe Nic Dháibhéid, a historian who is the current Burns Visiting Scholar in Irish Studies at Boston College, the impact of the Irish Revolution (1916-1923)—like other sweeping historical events—is discerned not merely through military engagements and political drama.

There also is significance to be found in the personal papers of Irish women imprisoned during the revolution, she says, or the requests for compensation by Irish citizens who had endured losses—personal as well as property—as a result of the conflict, or a Dublin child’s panicked reaction to a Charlie Chaplin film several years after the revolution ended.

Nic Dháibhéid will explore this human dimension at the spring semester Burns Lecture, “Love in the Time of Revolution: Intimacy, Affection and Kinship in Ireland, 1916-1923,” which takes place on April 9 in Burns Library at 6 p.m. (preceded by a 5 p.m. reception). The event is free and open to the public.

A collaboration between the Irish Studies Program and University Libraries, the Burns Scholar program brings outstanding academics, writers, journalists, librarians, and other notable figures to the University to teach courses, offer public lectures, and work with the resources of the Burns Library in their ongoing research, writing, and creative endeavors related to Irish history, art, and culture.

Nic Dháibhéid is a professor in Irish history and faculty director of Education for Arts and Humanities at the University of Sheffield, where she has taught since 2013. She works primarily on Irish history, in particular the Irish Revolution, and more broadly the history of political violence and terrorism since the 19th century. Her current research engages the cultural history of the Irish Revolution, focusing particularly on the history of emotions.

B​oston College Burns Visiting Scholar in Irish Studies Caoimhe Nic Dháibhéid in the Andover Room in Connolly House.

B​oston College Burns Visiting Scholar in Irish Studies Caoimhe Nic Dháibhéid in the Andover Room of Connolly House. (Photos by Lee Pellegrini)

Nic Dháibhéid studied history and French at University College Cork and later earned master’s and doctoral degrees at Queen’s University Belfast, where she served as a postdoctoral research fellow at the Institute of Irish Studies. She also was a Rutherford Research Fellow at Fitzwilliam College, Cambridge, and a research fellow at the University of St Andrew’s Handa Centre for the Study of Terrorism and Political Violence.

“I’m interested in the inner lives of people who lived through that period, civilians and combatants alike,” said Nic Dháibhéid, who co-chairs an expert advisory panel to support the writing of a history of British policy during the Northern Ireland Troubles. “The revolution brought substantial changes to Ireland, but also a new dynamic to personal relationships among Irish people who were caught up in it. Couples met through revolutionary activities, so love was more than deep affection, economic rationale, or finding your place in the social strata; it was also a political declaration.”

“The revolution also caused a rupture to familial and personal relationships, whether through separation, imprisonment or death, and spouses, children, siblings, other relatives, as well as friends, had to contend with the burden of revolutionary love as well as its excitement. At the lecture, I want to talk about these various forms of love—romantic, platonic, familial—in the context of the Irish Revolution, and what a closer reading of affection and intimacy during this period might say about Irish revolutionary dynamics.”

Nic Dháibhéid follows a similar path in the undergraduate course she is teaching, The Irish Revolution: Living, Fighting and Dying in Ireland, 1916-1923, which examines the paramilitarism of political culture, the nature and dynamics of revolutionary violence, and entrenchment of divisions. But for her, the emphasis is on personal experiences.

“What was it like to be a rebel, a policeman, a soldier, a civilian during that time?” she explained. “What was it like to watch a funeral for someone who had been killed, or to jeer at soldiers or other combatants, or to wonder if the fighting might someday reach your doorstep? Fortunately, there are rich primary sources that offer such details, whether it’s newspapers, official reports, or personal correspondence and diaries.”

For example, while researching in the Burns Library archives, Nic Dháibhéid came upon a collection of autograph books that Irish women jailed by British authorities passed along to one another. These contain details like prisoners’ jail and home addresses as well as reminiscences, short verses of prose or poetry, and words of support and inspiration.

“It’s fascinating to look through these books and see how these women kept a record of their presence, and in doing so demonstrated solidarity with one another,” said Nic Dháibhéid.

Such personal memorabilia can be revealing, she noted, and so can more official correspondence. Several years ago, she combed through an archive of letters written by Irish citizens to the newly established post-revolution Irish government seeking compensation for losses they sustained during the conflict.

“As part of the process, they had to narrativize and monetize their losses, which in some cases was pretty straightforward: Somebody’s house was damaged in the fighting and needed a certain amount to repair the damage. But then there were people whose husband or son had been killed and who were deprived of their breadwinner within the family: How do you put a figure on something like that?

“Yet through the compensation process, a number had to be determined for what that loss amounted to. As bereaved families navigated that very bureaucratic, official process, we can glimpse the pain and the loss that the revolution meant for many people.”

The full impact of a family member’s death might not always have been readily apparent or understood, adds Nic Dháibhéid. In 1920s Dublin, a young boy named Donagh MacDonagh watching “Shoulder Arms,” a satirical war film by Charlie Chaplin, suddenly experienced a panic attack and had to be taken out of the theater. Donagh’s father, Thomas, was one of the leaders of the 1916 Irish Easter Rising who had been executed by the British; hours after his father’s death, the family’s home had been raided by British soldiers. These experiences had inculcated in Donagh a terror of soldiers in uniform—even if they were flickering images on a movie screen.

“The wider effect of conflict-related trauma is a relatively new area of research in my field; we still don’t know much about what it was like for children who lived through the Irish Revolution,” said Nic Dháibhéid. “And there are still questions about how adults fared during that time, too, but through these kinds of accounts, and the stories that emerge from personal or official documents, we can begin to understand. My role as a historian is to treat these stories with care and respect. I feel privileged to have this kind of access to people’s lives, and I’m often moved by the intimacy of the personal correspondence and other papers.”

Nic Dháibhéid—who had previously visited the campus a few times for academic events—was familiar enough with the reputation of ýapp’s Irish Studies Program and the Burns Library holdings to apply for the Burns Scholar position. Two months into the semester, her regard for ýapp has been bolstered by the students she’s encountered, whether through her class or in other circumstances.

“I’m so impressed by the students’ engagement, their willingness to ask questions, and to participate sincerely with material which may be unfamiliar to them,” she said. “We know that research-led teaching is highly beneficial for students, but I think it’s equally true that the insights that come out of teaching feed back into the research—and so I’m an equally firm believer in teaching-led research. It’s been a wonderful experience all around.”