The Tailteann 2028 Project: Ó Muircheartaigh's legacy and the necessity of reviving the Philosophy of the Gaelic Games

The legacy of legend Mícheál Ó Muircheartaigh and this year's centenary of the Tailteann Games revival should inspire dissidents to re-explore the radical Gaelic philosophy of the CLG.

Ó Muircheartaigh’s legacy and the old-guard of the GAA

‘I believe that the creation of the border between what people called Saorstát Éireann and the Six Counties back in the 1920s cannot in a strange way be divorced from the current good health of Gaelic football in Ulster. Nationalists never accepted the border, and often looked southwards for sporting solace. They looked upon events such as All-Ireland finals as belonging to the entire Irish nation on the day, not just to the two participating counties.’¹ - Ó Muircheartaigh posthumously explaining the significance of Armagh's recent win.

‘Cá bhfuil croí, anam, corp is spiorad na nGael?
Cá bhfuil an grá, an bród dár gcine fhéin?
Imithe le sruth táimid gann, briste suas le fonn,
Mar sheana churrach, fágtha, feoite, fuar.’ - Amhrán na nGael.

‘the soul of our race arose with revivified body and answered the call of the Gaelic Athletic Association to get back to its traditional joyousness of heart and intrepidity of spirit.

Let us never forget this to the Founder of the Gaelic Athletic Association, because if, in happier times we forget what he accomplished, we will also be likely to lose our hatred of the tyranny and desolation he attacked and dispelled.’²

Mícheál Ó Muircheartaigh was the defining voice of the Gaelic games in the later twentieth Century. His death should mark as a reminder to Gaelicists that with the old guard who created such a phenomenal national-organisation in the early days of the Free State, a less nationalised, more corrosive generation is bound to replace them. I believe it is beholden on the newest generation of younger intellectuals to re-appreciate and give new life to the original philosophy which gave birth to the Gaelic Games and great men like Ó Muircheartaigh.

In re-engaging with the intellectual world of figures like Ó Muircheartaigh and those before him of the original Gaelic generation, I think it is worth starting with Cusack's own words. In an early article announcing the intentions of the Gaelic games, he poetically describes an Aisling vision where the spirit of Ériu comes to rejuvenate the spirit of Gaeldom at a time when Irish culture was so threatened by the impact of the Famine several generations previous:

‘Mother Erin, I think I understand what you want. children are having a hard struggle of it, striving to keep a grip of the land that bore them. You seem to think that I should make an effort to brighten their lives with the music of the Camán. I have been living in Ireland for upwards of three thousand years, and during all that time the hurling field was the great recreation ground of my brethren. Of late years unfortunately, the spirit of the people has been drooping’

Before diving into the full philosophy of the Gaelic Games, I think it’s worth quoting what Coogan describes as a ‘useful glimpse’ of the background from which ‘the GAA was born’. The aptly named leader of the IRB and Gaelicist, Patrick Sarsfield O’Hegarty — friend of JJ Walsh of whom we will speak more of later on the topic of the Tailteann Games — gave a thrillingly indicative account of the cultural atmosphere of the early 20th Century Gaelic revival, after he spent an evening at Gaelic League trad night:

‘Something in the songs - though I could understand only a few of the words - something in the music - something in the atmosphere - gripped me, and I seemed to be put into touch with something far back in the Race. Unknown depths in me were stirred, and across the centuries I seemed to be in touch with days when Irish speech and Irish manners and traditions were in every valley and on every hill and by every river. Is this mysticism? Oh no, it is actual fact. I understood, accepted and felt myself to be one with the Gael.’³

The original philosophy of ‘our native games’

A classic work laying out the core philosophy of Gaelicism at the heart of the GAA was Our Native Games (1935), written by PJ Devlin. A manifesto of sorts, the book outlines the successes and failures of the Association during its first few decades, as well as continually stressing an explicitly Gaelicist cultural and philosophical outlook as the motivating factor for its inception.

While making broad claims about the essential socio-cultural objectives that came with the seemingly apolitical sport, there are few figures who would have more authority to write on the subject as Devlin was a close personal friend and student of Michael Cusack, the crucial GAA correspondent and populariser for the influential Freeman’s Journal and he was founding member and editor of the Gaelic Athletic Annual. In terms of one man who could be seen to represent the intellectual force behind the games, you could hardly do better.

Early on in the work, Devlin says that if the essence of the GAA ‘might be summed up as a common ideal’ it would be that of ‘racial well-being and national sovereignty’ in Ireland.⁴ Explaining how reviving Gaelic games could contribute to this essential ideal, Devlin shows the influence of Douglas Hyde among others in making the point that England's suppression of native customs and language was the greatest obstacle in the way of the flourishing of the nation:

‘it became an unchanging tenet of British policy to seduce as well as subdue: to destroy all sense of historical existence. England was not content to dominate the material lives of our people. She had determined also to eradicate race-consciousness and national aspirations and repress all manifestations that might preserve or influence such impulses. The national language was one vital link with Ireland's past’⁵

Looked at from this point of view, the GAA recognised that the project of Anglicised “Irish patriotism” which pays no heed to reclaiming the cultural and linguistic soul of the nation is utterly meaningless.

This point was truly hit home in an infamous document published by the GAA several years after Devlin's work, called National Action. Written anonymously, although almost definitely by Joseph Hanly, the pamphlet outlines a vast plan for reviving the supposedly decadent and provincialised Irish nation along the formula set by the GAA and its dogged attachment to Gaelicism:

‘The secret of any small nation's individuality in the world to-day can be gauged by her dogged attachment to her own civilisation. The greatest secret of our national weakness has been our dogged tendency to do the opposite. It is one of the few things about which a section of our people has shown determination against.’⁶

While mostly beyond the subject of today's discussion, Hanly's GAA-published document demonstrates the far-reaching impact of the association's Gaelicist philosophy, seemingly being inspiring people to develop plans for a wide array of projects from national banking reform to large land redistribution.

As an applied philosophy, the GAA also contributed to the flourishing of so many rural and formerly forgotten communities, re-establishing the untapped potential of millennium-old ancestral and tribal memory. Describing the vitalist strain of Cusack's philosophy for the Association, Devlin says: ‘He saw in it a means of making native manhood manly again; of rearousing a vigorous people by the restoration of old-time pursuits and pleasures.’⁷

Notably, he also put it as the return of ‘strong-men' qualities in the hope of establishing a nation of ‘free-men' under the grace of God. This terminology reflects the terminology of Catholic writer RR Reno, who dubbed vitalist movements contemporary to Cusack and others as ushering in ‘the return of the strong-Gods'.

In a perhaps more local sense, the machismo, blood-feuds and tribal vitalism of Gaelic athleticism bears some similarities with the boxing traditions of travellers, demonstrated in the remarkable documentary, Knuckle. In politically incorrect terms for today, Ó Muircheartaigh has written favourably of the traditionally rooted identity of ‘tinkers’:

‘tinkers as they were then called, visited in large numbers. They were decent people, with many of the men practising the ancient art of tinkering. Pots, pans and buckets that had sprung leaks would be set aside until their arrival, and it was generally no problem for a skilled tinker with 'penny menders' and some solder to restore them to full health once more.’⁸

Whether it be their previous occupation as tinsmiths, or today's boxing tradition, the travelling community have preserved a sort of native way of life which anchors one against the provinciality of modernity - in a similar manner to the GAA's role on a national level.

The Games' struggle against provinciality

With the transformation of Ireland more generally, it is somewhat natural that the games have had to (or been forced to) adapt to our more de-nationalised, corporatised Ireland. As the Church, Republicanism and small-scale farming have been decimated from their privileged position as pillars of Irish life, the games have been able to adapt and survive — but not without sacrificing many core tenets of its philosophy.

It was made clear very early that if the games were to survive, it would be necessary to start by ridding itself of the most obvious manifestations of its illiberal soul. One of the first examples which come to mind is Rule 27, the infamous ‘ban' on GAA members playing foreign games, as well as Rule 21 which banned members of the British security forces - both rules exemplifying the organisation's Republican ethos.

The tradition of naming stadiums, clubs and cups also demonstrates this leaning, the Sam Maguire being classic example. One wonders how long some of these names will last, as there is a shared motivation from Ireland's de-nationalised ‘good people’ as well as the Unionist community to erase our homage to our patriot dead.

In speaking of the Fenian Republican heart of the association, Devlin noted that Cusack's vision allowed for the union of the two (often contradicting) strands within Irish historical heroes - that of the Priest and the Óglaigh, or the sacred and the profane:

‘The history of the Irish national struggle for a quarter of a century and more might be written around the lives of Doctor Croke and Michael Davitt-the one an experienced ecclesiastic, the other a militant nationalist. In ideals, they were akin through all the phases of Fenianism, Constitutionalism and Agrarian revolution.’⁹

This union of forces, the Catholic-influenced republicanism similar to that of the early provos among others across rural Ireland, is certainly prone to criticism from the de-nationalising south Dublin class for not being globally conscious enough in its outlook. While in hindsight obviously not a fact many would want to publicise, Ó Muircheartaigh was transparent about this sort of awkward isolationist tendency which was dominant in his native Dún Síon during the Emergency:

‘I think it would be fair to say that a slight sympathy towards the Germans prevailed in many quarters in Ireland, particularly during the early years of the war. De Valera had declared Ireland's neutrality on behalf of the people, but that did not mean that people could not profit from England's difficulties.’¹⁰

I think Ó Muircheartaigh may be exaggerating, but the point that rural communities in Dev's Ireland, the communal radius of the GAA, refused to be subservient to the whim of the Anglo-American orbit is clear. The particulars of the direction of their sympathies is irrelevant, as JJ O'Kelly's maxim about capitalising on England's difficulty was really the motivating factor.

While those examples exemplify the Republican ethos of the Games, the privileged role of the Catholic Church in the association could be seen by the tradition of the Archbishop of Cashel throwing the ball or sliotar out to open off all-Ireland finals, as well as the rival captains and referee being required to kneel and kiss the ring of the bishop before the throw-in.

With a strong feeling of nostalgia for this tradition, Ó Muircheartaigh describes in more detail the preceding ceremony brilliantly:

‘The ceremony was to be seen in all its glory on All-Ireland final day. Once the parade of teams was over and defenders in place, the bishop and the President of the GAA would walk with a solemn gait until they were some ten yards inside the sideline and facing the centre of the field. Silence would descend on the crowd as they came to a halt at the exact moment that the first notes of the hymn 'Faith of Our Fathers' would pour forth from the band. Spectators and players would sing the words as fervently as massed pilgrims in St Peter's Square in Rome. It was part of the day's agenda and respected accordingly without question.’¹¹

Joseph Hanly elucidated this Catholic element of the GAA very well with his notion of ‘Christian nationality’ or ‘Christisn citizenship’. Looked at this way, the virility of athleticism is allowed to flourish with the guidance of Faith and reverence. In this sense the GAA, under the influence of Croke and others, was able to pursue that ‘manly and courageous task' of ‘being a source of unity, strength and hope' for God's national justice.¹²

Growing up in the devout West-Kerry Gaeltacht, Ó Muircheartaigh's childhood routine exemplifies the typical form-world so many figures of the early GAA were reared in: ‘it was often close to midday when we would set out in a very leisurely gait on the three-mile walk to school knowing that the stations [of the cross] were a powerful enough answer to cover all possible questions’.

The necessity of reviving the Tailteann Games for 2028

The centenary of the Tailteann Games this year allows for a much-needed retrospective on one of the most admirable (yet sadly short-lived) achievements of the early Cumann na nGaedheal free state period. Marketed as a Gaelic Olympics, the Tailteann Games took the GAA's Gaelicism a step further, stunning Europe and the world with a vision of Gaeldom which marched forward into the 20th Century as a civilisation blooming with self-confidence in its mind, body and soul.

Demonstrating once again the gem-mine that is TG4’s catalogue of documentaries, the wonderful work Aonach Tailteann elaborates in some detail about the explicitly Gaelicist ethos of the games, birthed from the genius mind of JJ Walsh, as seen in this clip here.

Based on the ancient funereal games of the pre-Christian god Tailtiu, the festival greatly expanded the Gaelic athletics of the GAA to include competitions for Irish dancing, sailing and rowing, chess, traditional music and many more — as well as the non-athletic intellectual and cultural programme led by W.B. Yeats. A triumphant announcement of the cultural sovereignty of the nascent Irish Free State, the event was a resounding success, buttressing the criticism from militant Republicans who rejected the authority of the Free State due to partition, as well as the oft-repeated scepticism of the British at the ability of Irishmen and women to run their own country.

While the games returned in 1928, they gradually began to peter out, as the anti-cultural policies of the monetarists in the Cumann na nGaedheal government such as Kevin O’Higgins and (bizarrely) Ernest Blythe began to impose heavy restrictions on the lavish spending required for the games. With the retirement of JJ Walsh, the games were really destined to be neglected by successive Irish governments.

Still, they stand out as a short-lived inspirational chapter of the early Irish Free State, and need to be looked at as an example of what Gaelicism looks like in practice, as are the Gaelic games themselves.

With the arrival of the 2024 centenary for the Tailteann Games, I believe it is time to call for a revival - or re-revival - of those ancient games. What the games offered and why they must be revived mirrors exactly the popularity of the GAA — they celebrate our unique native and ethnic identity as Irishmen and women. They would remind us of our ancient culture and identity, allowing us the national self-confidence to carry the irrepressible flame of Gaeldom into this new Millennium.

While arguably farfetched, it's worth noting Ó Muircheartaigh's point that as Globalisation continues to homogenise the world into one cultural mesh, it is possible Irish people may re-appreciate their own distinct ethnic identity in the face of différence:

‘The more the younger generation travel, and happily they do a lot of it, the more they appreciate their Irishness; I see them as the generation that will ensure that the distinctiveness of our culture lives on in the varied worlds of language, games, singing and dancing’.¹³

Perhaps the most reasonable goal would be to revive the intellectual and cultural programme of the Tailteann Games for 2028. Will the next generation of Gaels see a renaissance of the Gaelic philosophy of the GAA and the Tailteann Games? Will they be able to develop an intellectual and artistic space for 21st Century Gaelicism — becoming not a anglicised province but a nation once again? Only time will tell, but perhaps the words of PJ Devlin may encourage to imagine what that revitalization of ethnically conscious Gaels would look like:

‘In the confident hope that future generations of Young Ireland will prove more and more devoted to the ideals of a distinct race and an independent nation, I have presumed to dedicate these essays to them. I enjoy the belief that the Gael in Ireland is turning again to the first pure founts of his vigour and pride, and that native pastimes, which the Gaelic Athletic Association exists to promote and perfect, will hold their rightful place in the coming eras of our history.’¹⁴

Bibliography

Anelius (Hanly), Joseph. 1942. National Action: A Plan for the National Recovery of Ireland. Gaelic Atheltic Association.

Coogan, Tim Pat. 2018. The GAA and the War of Independence. Bloomsbury.

Devlin, Patrick James. 1935. Our Native Games. M.H. Gill & Son, Ltd.

Ferriter, Diarmaid. 2004. The transformation of Ireland. Profile Books.

Ó Muircheartaigh, Mícheál. 2004. From Dún Síon to Croke Park: The Autobiography. Penguin Books.

1. Ó Muircheartaigh, p. 172.

2. Devlin, p. 36.

3. Coogan, p. 30.

4. Devlin, p. 20.

5. Devlin, p. 9.

6. Hanly, p. 99.

7. Devlin, p. 14.

8. Ó Muircheartaigh, p. 14.

9. Devlin, p. 20.

10. Ó Muircheartaigh, p. 13.

11. Ó Muircheartaigh, p. 204.

12. Hanly, p. 19.

13. Ó Muircheartaigh, p. 147.

14. Devlin, p. 6.