1916 in 2016:
Commemoration is not confined to History
copyright Linda Connolly
(please do not cite the content of this blog in radio and television interviews as your own, without referencing this source)
1916 in 2016 / 1918 in 2018:
Commemoration is not confined to History
Linda Connolly
Commentators in the media have in recent months attempted to both define the role of the commemoration of the 1916 Rising from the perspective of ‘professional history’ and to interpret the Rising itself from the perspective of outcomes and revolutionary scale. More debates among the historical establishment and commissioned articles in the Irish media are to be expected over the next year given the particularly prominent role (particularly male/Dublin based) historians are generally afforded in the Irish public sphere. However, it is now apparent that much emphasis has been placed on the important public role of political history as an academic discipline in interpreting the Rising/period of Revolution with less emphasis on explaining the historical antecedents of a range of some other pressing and more current social and political questions embedded in the period in question. One particular issue which deserves attention both in relation to the history of the Rising itself and in terms of its historical legacy – women’s role and rights in Irish society - has been scarcely mentioned in the mainstream arena of public debate thus far. Indeed, women themselves as scholars and commentators have been apportioned a very marginal role in high profile public fora, panels, and op ed pieces in the national newspapers, for instance – this is despite the fact that a significant corpus of dedicated writing by women on 1916 (both general history and history with a focus on women) exists. Moments of commemoration therefore also afford the historical profession and the general public an opportunity to remind us of what has the potential be forgotten or elided as well as remembered and necessitates an explanation as to why this might be the case, at the current conjuncture, not least in relation to women’s lives past and present. Is the debate about the commemoration of 1916 in 2016 another largely masculinist phenomenon and performance? Or is there a mutual and meaningful place/space for women and women’s history and interdisciplinary scholarship in it thereby enriching the debate more inclusively understood?
Undoubtedly the integrity of ‘the past’, which professional historians are trained to reconstruct primarily through the prism of texts, archival sources and oral history, counts for a great deal so that, among other things, the politics of the present are not flagrantly employed to provide a completely distorted view of what actually happened in 1916 and in the subsequent decades. The so-called danger of historians creating ‘myths’ for political ends has been rehearsed in numerous interventions to-date not least by Diarmaid Ferriter in the Irish Times newspaper last year in a book review provocatively entitled ‘Picking a fight over the rights and wrongs of our history’ and in the response by the book’s author John Regan. At the same time, it is important that the true purpose of sound historical scholarship and interpretation is not so over baked that it cannot also be scrutinized in a critical debate about historical ommisions and unaccounted for legacies, of the present. Likewise a myth that charged historical arguments about the past should only take place between men and historians more interested in the masculine attributes of the State, must not be perpetuated. There is much further charged debate to be had about the ‘rights and wrongs of our history’ but this includes in relation to the position of women in Irish history– which gets negligible mention in Regan’s text and in Ferriter’s review. New critical thinking that understands the complex role of history and historical events and conflict (including conflict about gender) is therefore also urgently needed in centennial Ireland or a moment of critical reflection and new thinking will have been missed. Arguably one of the key conflicts that shaped Irish history in the aftermath of the Revolution, alongside the Civil War and much debated militarized events in West Cork during the War of Independence etc, has been the resistant and often combative position that female activists have been forced to adopt and sustain in the hundred year period since suffrage was granted.
There are, in reality, two sides to the debate concerning the historical antecedents of contemporary problems and challenges. Alongside the critique of a tendency to create false myths about the past for present political ends, a number of other ‘dangers’ associated with historical ‘purity’ have been pointed out. Anne Dolan has contextualised the limited role of professional history by intimating there is a gap and distinction between commemoration, as a broader social and political process of the wider national collectivity and the State, and the scholarly principles and task of ‘history’ as practiced and envisaged by prominent professional historians. Ronan Fanning has also cautioned against debunking the established (or perhaps more accurately it could be said the establishment’s) view of the past at a time of remembrance by engaging in endless ‘whatifism’ - not least in relation to debating the significance of the 1916 Rising as an event in comparison to the First World War, which for former Taoiseach John Bruton and others was an event of far more significance and scale in shaping Irish history.
But the role of ‘commemoration’ beyond the task of professional research is not just to look back, remember and assess the relative scale or magnitude of events as they actually took place or to protect an established view by not asking 'what if' questions. Historical interpretation cannot stand still or be sealed in an airtight vault once it has been written by its preliminary masters and professoriate. There are too many unanswered questions in Irish history thus far to arrive at such a safe view. One entirely valid question, for instance, is what would Irish history look like if women had been properly included in the prevailing narrative of 20th century professional history writing? Should a history that managed for such a long time to effectively exclude and minimise half the population not be fundamentally rewritten or revised? Why was women’s lives and experience excluded from the historiography of the Revolution for such a long period of time? The occlusion and exclusion of women from the dominant historical narrative was an inevitable consequence of the gendered bias of arguments about historical purity and authority and not enough ‘whatifism’, in my view.
A further task in centennial Ireland is to assess and consider the performance of the State and society, including the role and performance of the historiography of the State, in the wider 100-year period. The lessons of the past have real currency and importance in contemporary Ireland not least in the arena of women’s rights and in the written history of the Irish women’s movement, which is also facing a major centennial commemoration in 2018 one hundred years after suffrage was granted to Irish women. A welcome outcome of the commemoration events, apart from the generation of burgeoning and exciting new literature on the history of the Rising and the period of Revolution, should include for example the critical reflection it can precipitate about gender issues, equal citizenship and the kind of society Ireland is and has become in 2016.
As women’s historians and other scholars have by now widely demonstrated, one of the travesties of the post independence period of nation building was the marginal role the Church and State afforded to women as full and equal citizens in a range of arenas, despite achieving the vote in 1918. Historical scholarship in recent decades has widely demonstrated that (some) women were to varying degrees afforded an active public role in the revolutionary process in 1916 but were systematically marginalized to the private sphere in the decades after Independence. And yet, perhaps one of the biggest ‘myths’ in Irish history is the assumption that, because women in the post-independence were marginalized by Church-State policies and laws and by censorship, is the assumption they were not active agents in it – including in the private sphere of home and in the public realm of activism, work and politics. As a consequence, their overwhelming oppression has seemed to suggest that they can be excluded from the prevailing narrative and political-State conflicts. The 1937 Constitution stated (still states) that women by their ‘life’ (as opposed to by their ‘work’) in the home, give to the State a support without which the common good cannot be achieved. A cool and dispassionate historical interpretation of the 1937 clause suggests that it simply reflected the social order of the day. Women were in reality confined to sphere of the home and family, feminists of the time were ‘exceptional’ women who did not reflect the overall experience of Irish women and some even argue that this clause actually gave value to the stem family model on which Irish society was premised and in which women occupied a central (even powerful) role as mothers – ergo the fundamental role of history is to describe society as it was and “that’s ok”. But to describe society within an agreed generalisation as to that’s how it was is to first create an ideological version of the past that presumes society is always built on consent and social order, which fails to dissect the underlying power dynamics on which society was structured and the resistances, differences and conflicts within it as well as the silences and oppression. The importance of dissecting the power dynamics at the heart of Irish society have been recently demonstrated in various scandals and abuses such as, the discovery of the underground graves of numerous dead babies on the grounds of a former mother and baby home in Tuam and through personal testimonies of forced adoptions. In addition, the existence of cases of abuse and violence within the sanctified Irish family, so valorized in the Constitution, has been widely documented. Why were profound scandals and abuses hidden from Irish history in the 20th century? What role did arguments about historical objectivity and the need to affirm the context of the time play in this? Likewise, why was ‘the context of the times’ in 2015 used successfully as an argument in a recent legal case regarding Irish victims of symphysiotomy to deny them adequate compensation? How can the argument that doctors and nurses were merely operating in an era of profound Catholicism be used in the Courts justify lesser compensation for elderly women now, who were horrifically violated and damaged in a most extreme way by an outdated procedure in Irish hospitals in twentieth century Ireland? As Prof Tom Dunne reminds us, history writing produces a particular kind of text, one shaped as much by established conventions in regard to evidence and debate as by the politics of the writer, and in the recent example of the symphysiotomy cases in the Four Courts, historical writing and ideology clearly influenced a legal outcome. The context of the time argument has successfully served the State in minimizing the demand for adequate compensation and underpinned in this case a close relationship forged between historical scholarship and institutional power. Historical abuses belong in their time (1940s-80s) and yet, the UN Human Rights Committee report following questioning of an Irish Government delegation, led by Minister for Justice Frances Fitzgerald, on Ireland’s compliance with the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) in Geneva in July 2014 stated that the “perpetrators” of symphysiotomy should be punished and prosecuted. On symphysiotomy, which was brought to the committee’s attention for the first time, it said:
“The State party should initiate a prompt, independent and thorough investigation into cases of symphysiotomy, prosecute and punish the perpetrators, including medical personnel, and provide an effective remedy to the survivors of symphysiotomy for the damage sustained, including fair and adequate compensation and rehabilitation, on an individualized basis…It should facilitate access to judicial remedies by victims opting for the ex-gratia scheme, including allowing a challenge to the sums offered to them under the scheme.”
The writing and construction of Irish history has undoubtedly been selective, partial and ideological in relation to gender and power and further questions need to be asked. The construction of gender and more specifically motherhood through the lens of Church-State power has been vividly demonstrated in many recent and historical scandals that have mired the State and wider body politic and have incorporated the denial of basic human rights such as consent, knowledge and bodily integrity – Anne Lovett, Eileen Flynn, Joanne Hayes, symphysiotomy procedures, women infected with Hepatitis C from anti D products, the Neary case, cruel mother and baby homes, involuntary adoptions, Miss’ X, C, Y, and life threatening and fatal incidents of child birth (including the death of Savita Halappanavar and the case of Miss P) all attest to this legacy, now and then. Historical accounts of positive experiences of motherhood and traditional family life alongside these scandals suggests an even more complex view of Irish history that can explain why only some groups of women have been so profoundly marginalized and others not so in these cases, is required. Most recently, in December 2014 the State further demonstrated the chaos that evolves from a combination of lack of legislation and the construction of an ambivalent version of gendered citizenship, which a High Court ruling confirmed denies women and their families autonomy, consent and dignity in the arena of maternal death prior to child birth. In the case of P, a brain dead pregnant woman was kept ‘alive’ on a life support machine to deleterious effect, the details of which are too harrowing and grotesque to recount here.
There are many questions to be asked about historical abuses and equality in 2016 some of which are being currently played out in the Courts - a century after diverse groups of women both in Dublin and outside it assisted in an uprising of 1916 that had a complex vision of equality and gender at its ideological core. We clearly need more careful historical research that can excavate the history of groups previously excluded from the official historical narrative of the last century. But commemoration can also provide important opportunities for reflection beyond this task – not least about the rights and wrongs of our history in relation to women’s lives. We also need a debate about historical accountability and the lessons of the past including in relation to the State and society’s record on women’s human rights in the arena of health, obstetrics and motherhood, and not least in relation to symphysiotomies conducted in Irish hospitals as well as the other instances of maternal health and death as mentioned above. What would the women of 1916 make of ‘gendered citizenship’ today? What resonance does the reference to women’s ‘life’ in the 1937 Constitution take on in a recent context where a woman’s life and death vis a vis motherhood and pregnancy was literally the subject of a High Court case conducted in the days before and after Christmas day 2014 and which in November 2013 led to an investigation into the maternal death of Savita Halappanavar at a Galway hospital that could not provide a termination to save her life and attracted global media attention? Or a context in which Ireland’s history has been held up as a negative role model by the UN? Will 1918 and 100 years of suffrage for women be afforded the same commemorative attention as 1916 and when will a sustained public debate about the nature of this commemoration and women’s rights and conditions then and now (including as mothers or potential mothers) be given central focus? Difficult questions demand difficult histories and the decade of commemorations (in the plural) could present an exciting opportunity for a new debate about a fundamental reimagination of what Irish history is and could be. Who will be the first to ‘pick a fight’ about the rights and wrongs of our chequered history as women in Ireland in 2018 remains to be seen. Lets hope the Government and public historical debate gives due regard to that particular centenary in the Decade of Commemorations agenda and prioritisation to the ongoing troubled history of women in Ireland in the process.
Dr. Linda Connolly is the Director of the Institute for Social Science in the 21st Century at UCC and her books include The ‘Irish’ Family (Routledge, 2015), The Irish Women’s Movement: From Revolution to Devolution (Lilliput, 2003 and Palgrave, 2003 and 2015 e-edition), Documenting Irish Feminisms (Woodfield, 2005) (with Tina O’Toole) and Social Movements and Ireland (Manchester University Press, 2007) (co-editor). She was Director of the 2015 Merriman Summer School.
Commemoration is not confined to History
Linda Connolly
Commentators in the media have in recent months attempted to both define the role of the commemoration of the 1916 Rising from the perspective of ‘professional history’ and to interpret the Rising itself from the perspective of outcomes and revolutionary scale. More debates among the historical establishment and commissioned articles in the Irish media are to be expected over the next year given the particularly prominent role (particularly male/Dublin based) historians are generally afforded in the Irish public sphere. However, it is now apparent that much emphasis has been placed on the important public role of political history as an academic discipline in interpreting the Rising/period of Revolution with less emphasis on explaining the historical antecedents of a range of some other pressing and more current social and political questions embedded in the period in question. One particular issue which deserves attention both in relation to the history of the Rising itself and in terms of its historical legacy – women’s role and rights in Irish society - has been scarcely mentioned in the mainstream arena of public debate thus far. Indeed, women themselves as scholars and commentators have been apportioned a very marginal role in high profile public fora, panels, and op ed pieces in the national newspapers, for instance – this is despite the fact that a significant corpus of dedicated writing by women on 1916 (both general history and history with a focus on women) exists. Moments of commemoration therefore also afford the historical profession and the general public an opportunity to remind us of what has the potential be forgotten or elided as well as remembered and necessitates an explanation as to why this might be the case, at the current conjuncture, not least in relation to women’s lives past and present. Is the debate about the commemoration of 1916 in 2016 another largely masculinist phenomenon and performance? Or is there a mutual and meaningful place/space for women and women’s history and interdisciplinary scholarship in it thereby enriching the debate more inclusively understood?
Undoubtedly the integrity of ‘the past’, which professional historians are trained to reconstruct primarily through the prism of texts, archival sources and oral history, counts for a great deal so that, among other things, the politics of the present are not flagrantly employed to provide a completely distorted view of what actually happened in 1916 and in the subsequent decades. The so-called danger of historians creating ‘myths’ for political ends has been rehearsed in numerous interventions to-date not least by Diarmaid Ferriter in the Irish Times newspaper last year in a book review provocatively entitled ‘Picking a fight over the rights and wrongs of our history’ and in the response by the book’s author John Regan. At the same time, it is important that the true purpose of sound historical scholarship and interpretation is not so over baked that it cannot also be scrutinized in a critical debate about historical ommisions and unaccounted for legacies, of the present. Likewise a myth that charged historical arguments about the past should only take place between men and historians more interested in the masculine attributes of the State, must not be perpetuated. There is much further charged debate to be had about the ‘rights and wrongs of our history’ but this includes in relation to the position of women in Irish history– which gets negligible mention in Regan’s text and in Ferriter’s review. New critical thinking that understands the complex role of history and historical events and conflict (including conflict about gender) is therefore also urgently needed in centennial Ireland or a moment of critical reflection and new thinking will have been missed. Arguably one of the key conflicts that shaped Irish history in the aftermath of the Revolution, alongside the Civil War and much debated militarized events in West Cork during the War of Independence etc, has been the resistant and often combative position that female activists have been forced to adopt and sustain in the hundred year period since suffrage was granted.
There are, in reality, two sides to the debate concerning the historical antecedents of contemporary problems and challenges. Alongside the critique of a tendency to create false myths about the past for present political ends, a number of other ‘dangers’ associated with historical ‘purity’ have been pointed out. Anne Dolan has contextualised the limited role of professional history by intimating there is a gap and distinction between commemoration, as a broader social and political process of the wider national collectivity and the State, and the scholarly principles and task of ‘history’ as practiced and envisaged by prominent professional historians. Ronan Fanning has also cautioned against debunking the established (or perhaps more accurately it could be said the establishment’s) view of the past at a time of remembrance by engaging in endless ‘whatifism’ - not least in relation to debating the significance of the 1916 Rising as an event in comparison to the First World War, which for former Taoiseach John Bruton and others was an event of far more significance and scale in shaping Irish history.
But the role of ‘commemoration’ beyond the task of professional research is not just to look back, remember and assess the relative scale or magnitude of events as they actually took place or to protect an established view by not asking 'what if' questions. Historical interpretation cannot stand still or be sealed in an airtight vault once it has been written by its preliminary masters and professoriate. There are too many unanswered questions in Irish history thus far to arrive at such a safe view. One entirely valid question, for instance, is what would Irish history look like if women had been properly included in the prevailing narrative of 20th century professional history writing? Should a history that managed for such a long time to effectively exclude and minimise half the population not be fundamentally rewritten or revised? Why was women’s lives and experience excluded from the historiography of the Revolution for such a long period of time? The occlusion and exclusion of women from the dominant historical narrative was an inevitable consequence of the gendered bias of arguments about historical purity and authority and not enough ‘whatifism’, in my view.
A further task in centennial Ireland is to assess and consider the performance of the State and society, including the role and performance of the historiography of the State, in the wider 100-year period. The lessons of the past have real currency and importance in contemporary Ireland not least in the arena of women’s rights and in the written history of the Irish women’s movement, which is also facing a major centennial commemoration in 2018 one hundred years after suffrage was granted to Irish women. A welcome outcome of the commemoration events, apart from the generation of burgeoning and exciting new literature on the history of the Rising and the period of Revolution, should include for example the critical reflection it can precipitate about gender issues, equal citizenship and the kind of society Ireland is and has become in 2016.
As women’s historians and other scholars have by now widely demonstrated, one of the travesties of the post independence period of nation building was the marginal role the Church and State afforded to women as full and equal citizens in a range of arenas, despite achieving the vote in 1918. Historical scholarship in recent decades has widely demonstrated that (some) women were to varying degrees afforded an active public role in the revolutionary process in 1916 but were systematically marginalized to the private sphere in the decades after Independence. And yet, perhaps one of the biggest ‘myths’ in Irish history is the assumption that, because women in the post-independence were marginalized by Church-State policies and laws and by censorship, is the assumption they were not active agents in it – including in the private sphere of home and in the public realm of activism, work and politics. As a consequence, their overwhelming oppression has seemed to suggest that they can be excluded from the prevailing narrative and political-State conflicts. The 1937 Constitution stated (still states) that women by their ‘life’ (as opposed to by their ‘work’) in the home, give to the State a support without which the common good cannot be achieved. A cool and dispassionate historical interpretation of the 1937 clause suggests that it simply reflected the social order of the day. Women were in reality confined to sphere of the home and family, feminists of the time were ‘exceptional’ women who did not reflect the overall experience of Irish women and some even argue that this clause actually gave value to the stem family model on which Irish society was premised and in which women occupied a central (even powerful) role as mothers – ergo the fundamental role of history is to describe society as it was and “that’s ok”. But to describe society within an agreed generalisation as to that’s how it was is to first create an ideological version of the past that presumes society is always built on consent and social order, which fails to dissect the underlying power dynamics on which society was structured and the resistances, differences and conflicts within it as well as the silences and oppression. The importance of dissecting the power dynamics at the heart of Irish society have been recently demonstrated in various scandals and abuses such as, the discovery of the underground graves of numerous dead babies on the grounds of a former mother and baby home in Tuam and through personal testimonies of forced adoptions. In addition, the existence of cases of abuse and violence within the sanctified Irish family, so valorized in the Constitution, has been widely documented. Why were profound scandals and abuses hidden from Irish history in the 20th century? What role did arguments about historical objectivity and the need to affirm the context of the time play in this? Likewise, why was ‘the context of the times’ in 2015 used successfully as an argument in a recent legal case regarding Irish victims of symphysiotomy to deny them adequate compensation? How can the argument that doctors and nurses were merely operating in an era of profound Catholicism be used in the Courts justify lesser compensation for elderly women now, who were horrifically violated and damaged in a most extreme way by an outdated procedure in Irish hospitals in twentieth century Ireland? As Prof Tom Dunne reminds us, history writing produces a particular kind of text, one shaped as much by established conventions in regard to evidence and debate as by the politics of the writer, and in the recent example of the symphysiotomy cases in the Four Courts, historical writing and ideology clearly influenced a legal outcome. The context of the time argument has successfully served the State in minimizing the demand for adequate compensation and underpinned in this case a close relationship forged between historical scholarship and institutional power. Historical abuses belong in their time (1940s-80s) and yet, the UN Human Rights Committee report following questioning of an Irish Government delegation, led by Minister for Justice Frances Fitzgerald, on Ireland’s compliance with the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) in Geneva in July 2014 stated that the “perpetrators” of symphysiotomy should be punished and prosecuted. On symphysiotomy, which was brought to the committee’s attention for the first time, it said:
“The State party should initiate a prompt, independent and thorough investigation into cases of symphysiotomy, prosecute and punish the perpetrators, including medical personnel, and provide an effective remedy to the survivors of symphysiotomy for the damage sustained, including fair and adequate compensation and rehabilitation, on an individualized basis…It should facilitate access to judicial remedies by victims opting for the ex-gratia scheme, including allowing a challenge to the sums offered to them under the scheme.”
The writing and construction of Irish history has undoubtedly been selective, partial and ideological in relation to gender and power and further questions need to be asked. The construction of gender and more specifically motherhood through the lens of Church-State power has been vividly demonstrated in many recent and historical scandals that have mired the State and wider body politic and have incorporated the denial of basic human rights such as consent, knowledge and bodily integrity – Anne Lovett, Eileen Flynn, Joanne Hayes, symphysiotomy procedures, women infected with Hepatitis C from anti D products, the Neary case, cruel mother and baby homes, involuntary adoptions, Miss’ X, C, Y, and life threatening and fatal incidents of child birth (including the death of Savita Halappanavar and the case of Miss P) all attest to this legacy, now and then. Historical accounts of positive experiences of motherhood and traditional family life alongside these scandals suggests an even more complex view of Irish history that can explain why only some groups of women have been so profoundly marginalized and others not so in these cases, is required. Most recently, in December 2014 the State further demonstrated the chaos that evolves from a combination of lack of legislation and the construction of an ambivalent version of gendered citizenship, which a High Court ruling confirmed denies women and their families autonomy, consent and dignity in the arena of maternal death prior to child birth. In the case of P, a brain dead pregnant woman was kept ‘alive’ on a life support machine to deleterious effect, the details of which are too harrowing and grotesque to recount here.
There are many questions to be asked about historical abuses and equality in 2016 some of which are being currently played out in the Courts - a century after diverse groups of women both in Dublin and outside it assisted in an uprising of 1916 that had a complex vision of equality and gender at its ideological core. We clearly need more careful historical research that can excavate the history of groups previously excluded from the official historical narrative of the last century. But commemoration can also provide important opportunities for reflection beyond this task – not least about the rights and wrongs of our history in relation to women’s lives. We also need a debate about historical accountability and the lessons of the past including in relation to the State and society’s record on women’s human rights in the arena of health, obstetrics and motherhood, and not least in relation to symphysiotomies conducted in Irish hospitals as well as the other instances of maternal health and death as mentioned above. What would the women of 1916 make of ‘gendered citizenship’ today? What resonance does the reference to women’s ‘life’ in the 1937 Constitution take on in a recent context where a woman’s life and death vis a vis motherhood and pregnancy was literally the subject of a High Court case conducted in the days before and after Christmas day 2014 and which in November 2013 led to an investigation into the maternal death of Savita Halappanavar at a Galway hospital that could not provide a termination to save her life and attracted global media attention? Or a context in which Ireland’s history has been held up as a negative role model by the UN? Will 1918 and 100 years of suffrage for women be afforded the same commemorative attention as 1916 and when will a sustained public debate about the nature of this commemoration and women’s rights and conditions then and now (including as mothers or potential mothers) be given central focus? Difficult questions demand difficult histories and the decade of commemorations (in the plural) could present an exciting opportunity for a new debate about a fundamental reimagination of what Irish history is and could be. Who will be the first to ‘pick a fight’ about the rights and wrongs of our chequered history as women in Ireland in 2018 remains to be seen. Lets hope the Government and public historical debate gives due regard to that particular centenary in the Decade of Commemorations agenda and prioritisation to the ongoing troubled history of women in Ireland in the process.
Dr. Linda Connolly is the Director of the Institute for Social Science in the 21st Century at UCC and her books include The ‘Irish’ Family (Routledge, 2015), The Irish Women’s Movement: From Revolution to Devolution (Lilliput, 2003 and Palgrave, 2003 and 2015 e-edition), Documenting Irish Feminisms (Woodfield, 2005) (with Tina O’Toole) and Social Movements and Ireland (Manchester University Press, 2007) (co-editor). She was Director of the 2015 Merriman Summer School.
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