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A First Trip to The Bahamas and Jamaica

Delayed for two years by the pandemic and having presented my credentials virtually, I finally made my first official trip to two of my accreditations, The Bahamas and Jamaica.  This was very much a case of familiarization but also to see if I could identify areas for cooperation and possibly to generate some projects with good outputs in a reasonable span of time.  Ireland wants to step up its game in the region.  More on that later. First some observations.

The Bahamas is an islands’ nation.  There is an inescapable interplay between the land and sea. The sea is everywhere physically but the maritime percolates the culture and outlook of Bahamians.  Like the Aran Islands, the terrain of The Bahamas offers little fertility. Perched not far above the water line, the seas are sapphire and cobalt, the beaches ivory, and the land rocky and green.  The Indigenous Lucayan population, possibly 30,000 strong, were unfortunate to be the first to encounter Christopher Columbus.  The rest, as they say, is history.  Certainly it was history for the Indigenous there as most were wiped out by disease and slavery.

Not fit for sugar plantations and therefore the oppressions of colonialism and racism, the society that grew there comprised pirates and escaped slaves, free booters and fishermen, those seeking freedom of religion or just freedom. That The Bahamas is a nation at all is a miracle of resilience and hope. Yet its perilously low-lying land means that climate change is an existential threat. 

Jamaica is a hunk of mountains in the sea.  Less like The Bahamas and more like Ireland, Jamaica can be seen more accurately as a country surrounded by the sea rather than an island.  I remembered, in my student days in Ireland, a friend saying in frustration that she needed to get off the island.  What island is she talking about, I wondered. With the seventh largest natural harbour in the world, clouds rolling in that catch in the Blue Mountains, the influence of the sea is never far away.  However, my sense is that Jamaicans’ perspective is landward, tracing the mountain passes to the parishes, towns and villages of the interior.  Ireland and Jamaica both share not just brio and sociability but a ferocious sense of survival and therefore identity.  We both have outsized cultural influence beyond our shores.

Ireland is lucky to have William Mills as our Honorary Consul in The Bahamas, supported by his wife Wendy.  Like I say about my wife Mary, they are the unpaid half of the diplomatic team. Bill organized a lunch at the club at Lyford Cay for Irish business contacts where we discussed trade opportunities. (The exclusive club was founded by Canadian tycoon E.P. Taylor whose ancestors came from Ireland).  And he convened a reception that I hosted for the Irish community, small and resilient like The Bahamians themselves. They all had taken different routes to new lives in The Bahamas, not unexpectedly, but all agreed it was a hard place to leave.

The Honorary Consuls of The Bahamas hosted a lunch.  I was seated with the Foreign Minister Fred Mitchell, the US chargé Usha Pitts and the British High Commissioner Tom Hartley.  It was great to get their insights on The Bahamas and the politics of the Caribbean. In his skillful extempore remarks to the assembled diplomats, the Minister spoke about a range of issues, including the meeting of Caricom hosted by The Bahamas only days previously and where Prime Minister Trudeau was a keynote speaker.  However, the deteriorating situation in Haiti was a major concern.  He appealed for the international community to pay attention and assist, wisely noting that this was not about a solution, but improving the situation incrementally and putting Haiti on the right track.  In conversation, Minister Mitchell told me he’d often been to Ireland because of a close family connection.  He is a passionate Joycean too. I briefed him on our plans for region.

On these kinds of trips, it is always useful just to wander around.  Left hand drive cars from America drive on the left hand side of the road: a metaphor for enduring Bahamian links to the British crown and the economic influence of its gigantic neighbor. The capital Nassau has charm, bustling between 11am and 3pm when four or five gigantic cruise ships unload their mainly American passengers.  The Bahamians are building new port facilities and aim to keep these tourists at least overnight. I’m sure the guys at the one Irish bar, Shenanigans, would appreciate that development!

National galleries often offer insights and the National Gallery did not disappoint.  Housed in a colonial mansion built by one William Doyle, the gallery was devoted to a magnificent exhibition of the art of Antonius Roberts, the country’s leading artist. Brimming with multi-media work, its theme was sacred space.  The exhibition was suffused with images and installations about place and nature, the sea and sand, light and colour, natural catastrophe and human resilience.

After slingshot flights to Miami and then Jamaica’s capital city Kingston, we were met by our Honorary Consul there, Brian Denning and his wife Kay.  Again, we are so lucky to have them represent Ireland in Jamaica.  Brian has handled some really difficult consular cases in recent years, with great sensitivity and effectiveness.  His network of contacts is unrivalled.

Brian and Kay toured us around Kingston, offering insights into Jamaica’s history.  We passed by Sabina Park where Ireland’s cricket team famously beat Pakistan in 2007.  Sabina Park was an enslaved woman whose remains lie somewhere there.  A slave on Goat Island where the brutality of the regime prompted a high suicide rate, she killed her four-month-old infant son rather than have him enslaved to work for whites.  She was hanged of course, and died a hero to other slaves for her implacable resistance.  Sabina was the slave of Joseph Gordon, a Scottish plantation owner who had eight children with another slave, Ann Rattray.  Gordon gave freedom to a son, George William.  George William Gordon became a successful businessman, politician, and advocate for the poor and for Jamaican freedom.  He was executed after the Mordant Bay Rebellion in 1865 and declared a National Hero in 1969.

Jamaica faces many challenges as a developing nation but the vision and effectiveness of its government is impressive.  Unemployment is at an all-time low of 6.6%, inflation is tracking downward, and the Government has dramatically lowered its debt to GDP ratio.  I could only be there for some of Jamaica’s diplomatic week along with a host of other ambassadors, resident and non-resident, and High Commissioners.  The speeches and Q and A by Prime Minister Andrew Holness, Minister for Foreign Affairs and Trade Kamina Johnson Smith, and Minister for Tourism, Edmund Bartlett, were all clear slighted and ambitious, delivered with depth of knowledge and assurance. Both the Prime Minister and Foreign Minister had just returned from a visit to Haiti, again underlining their concern about the crisis and the need for international support.

With leadership like that, you have to be confident about Jamaica’s future.  As only the second nation (after Haiti) to emerge from a former slave colony, Jamaica’s journey is remarkable.  Last year, Jamaica celebrated its 60th anniversary as an independent nation. As for relations with the British crown, the Prime Minister and Foreign Minister want to ensure that all stakeholders, including the Opposition, join them on the road to becoming a republic.

The mountains of both Jamaica and Ireland played roles in our history as refuges for rebels.  Recall Redmond O’Hanlon around Slieve Gullion, or the men of 1798 taking to the fastness of Wicklow. Maroon communities of escaped slaves formed communities in the Jamaican mountains.  The Leeward Maroons such successful guerrilla fighters that the British signed a deal with them in 1739. Along with Captain Cudjoe, another Maroon leader was Nanny, a legend and heroine of Jamaica. History is complicated and the alliance with the British, including an obligation to returned runaway slaves, rankles other Jamaicans. To this day, the Maroons have cohesive communities and ambitions for the future.  No problem with that, as Foreign Minister Johnson Smith noted, within the territorial integrity and sovereignty of Jamaica.  Like Ireland, Jamaica has to manage the long influence of its colonial past along with its other challenges. 

I had a very productive bilateral meeting with Minister Johnson Smith, which was substantive and full of opportunities to develop our relationship.  Suffice to say, there is plenty of follow-up both with HQ and in another visit I am planning.  My message to the Minister, as it has been to Foreign Minister Mitchell in The Bahamas, was that Ireland had a new strategy for the Caribbean, we were setting up an Office of the Caribbean at our Consulate General in Miami, and we wanted to support our partners in the region on such vital issues as the Small Island Developing States agenda.

I hosted a reception for the Irish community, drawn together by Brian and Kay.  We were able to engage with all of the guests, some of whom had come from Montego Bay and elsewhere to join us.  It is always amazing how small the world is, at least for the Irish.  I met someone who knew colleagues and shared acquaintances not just back in Dublin but in Toronto. “By the way, do you know my aunt in Toronto…?”  Know her?  I did a podcast with her! 

At the Irish community reception, I also met Veronica Salters, known as Ronnie, a doyen of the Irish who had lived most of her long life in Jamaica.  Her mission was to engage my interest in Jamaica’s Irish heritage, notably the role of the reforming Governor General, Marquess Sligo, Henry Browne, whose journals and papers are in Kingston.  Sligo had been keen to accelerate the transition from slavery to freedom in his time there between 1834 and 1836, earning the ire of the plantation owners, some of whom simply murdered their slaves rather than let them free.  They forced his resignation.  Yes, she had my interest, and a project is taking shape.

Indeed, I kept picking up references to Jamaica’s Irish heritage.  Jamaica was England’s second experiment in plantation after Ireland.  Cromwellians threw the Spanish out of Jamaica in 1655 and promptly deported defeated Catholic Irish there to work plantations as indentured labour. There are plenty of Irish placenames, like Dublin Castle, Irish Town, Clonmel and even a Sligoville in honour of the man himself. If you go to the market today to buy potatoes, you say you want some Irish to distinguish it from ‘potato’ which refers to a sweet potato.  Folk traditions are heavily influenced by the Irish. A quarter of Jamaicans have some Irish ancestry. I am sure that the more I look, the more I will find. Our shared colonialism has woven a dense tapestry of historical and living interconnections.

I returned to Ottawa to promote those very interconnections between Ireland and Canada with the Fifty Irish Lives project.  I now have some sense of both The Bahamas and Jamaica so reading about them will be more meaningful.  Plans are underway to visit my two new accreditations in the Caribbean, St Lucia and Antigua and Barbuda.  I was assigned them in a new divvy up of Caribbean accreditations.  This is part of our efforts to bring more focus to our diplomatic presence.  Interesting times ahead for Ireland’s relations with our partners in the Caribbean.

Eamonn McKee

Ambassador to Canada, The Bahamas and Jamaica


7 March 2023


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Christmas Message 2022

Dear Friends,

This was very much a year of two halves. The grip of the pandemic loosened as we entered spring and by the summer life had really returned to normal in earnest. It was great to see the streets bustling again, restaurants opening up, and cities across Canada coming alive, and friends and families crossing the North Atlantic.

The pandemic showed that we can use online events to extend our reach. We hosted some great events to celebrate Irish Heritage Month and St Patrick’s Day. The chair of the Canada Ireland Parliamentary Friendship Group, James Maloney MP and myself were honoured to be joined by Prime Minister Justin Trudeau. You can find it here if you missed it. We had great fun with discussions and celebrations of St Brigid’s Day, the Women behind James Joyce, readings from Ulysses for Bloomsday, as well as posting podcasts about a host of topics.

Since we were able to travel and assemble, we were able to enjoy a great St Patrick Day’s Parade in Toronto, pulled together with little advance notice but a lot of passion and energy.

Sadly, we learned the following day of the unexpected passing of our dear friend and colleague, the former Ambassador to Canada, Jim Kelly. It was shocking news for one so young to die and with so much more to offer. We miss him and continue to have Anne, Ciara and Orla in our thoughts at this time of year when the loss of loved ones is felt so keenly.

In terms of my colleagues working here, we said goodbye to Frank Flood who did such a great job establishing the new Consulate General in Vancouver. I was delighted to welcome Cathy Geagan as our second Consul General and she’s already doing a great job.  It was a thrill to finally establish a Consulate General in Toronto: Consul General Janice McGann and Deputy Consul General William Barrett are off to a flying start.

I want to thank all of our Honorary Consuls who do such a great job supporting us, aiding the community and promoting Ireland. Eithne Heffernan has passed the torch to Janice and I want to pay tribute to the amazing job she did with such grace as our Honorary Consul in Toronto over the years, notably through the years of the pandemic which proved difficult for so many. We deeply value the work and outreach of I/CAN as providing essential support and services to the Irish in Canada. Our great Honorary Consul in Alberta, Doodie Cahill, retired. Mary and I were able to join the Edmonton Irish Sports and Social Society there to say thanks to Doodie and enjoy the Club’s 60th anniversary. We also visited Calgary to catch up with our great Honorary Consul there, Deirdre Halferty. We met for a great evening with the Irish Cultural Society of ceol agus craic. It was a real pleasure too to get down to business with our Honorary Vice Consul, Laureen Regan who has been sterling work with her newly launched and dynamic Ireland Alberta Trade Association.

This has been an exciting year of discovery about the depth and strength of the Irish in Canada. The Irish in Canada have a lot of which to be very proud indeed. From Anglo-Irish administrators and Governor Generals to Catholic Church leaders, from hard working immigrants in the lumber industry, farms, and cities, to business barons, founding fathers, politicians, labour organisers, soldiers, explorers and writers, the list keeps growing. We want to spread the word that Ireland and the Irish should come to mind when you think of the westward expansion of Canada, the RCMP, Canadian botany, the Canadian Flag and a host of businesses from Labatt’s to Eaton’s and Richardson’s.

We’re really excited by the vision and ambitions of Robert Kearns of the Canada Ireland Foundation and look forward to partnering with them in promoting Irish heritage and contemporary Irish culture. The Cultural Centre that Robert, William Peat and their board are creating at the Corleck Building will be an enormous asset in a new era of Irish-Canadian relations.

We visited Newfoundland in May, a Province that is unimaginable without the decisive influence of the Irish and where Irish accents are so deep you think you’re home. We were part of a very moving ceremony at the Irish Famine Grave at Grosse Ȋle in July with thanks to Bryan O’Gallagher and Irish Heritage Quebec for keeping that hallowed space cherished and its memory alive.

We had the honour of our naval vessel the LE James Joyce visit Halifax Nova Scotia (whose founding father was Dublin man Richard Bulkeley), and still managed to have the on-board VIP reception despite the attentions of the uninvited guest that was hurricane Fiona!

Visits to Vancouver, Edmonton, Calgary, Hamilton, Montreal, Quebec, and Toronto were fabulous engagements with Irish societies proud of their heritage and vibrant with plans for the future.

We hosted Irish Night on Parliament Hill in November and if there was one event that summed up the spirit of the Irish in Canada it was this one. We had over four hundred guests, with great music, dancing, and short but passionate speeches. You can get a flavour of the evening here.

As a Resident of Ottawa, I have been particularly thrilled to discover the city’s Irish heritage. I am not surprised that this is news to me. I am surprised that it is news to so many. Thanks to local historian Michael McBane, we learned of the famine grave at Macdonald Gardens Park and held a ceremony of remembrance there in August.

From the Rideau Canal to the Irish heritage of Rideau Hall and the decisive role of the Ahearn family in the development of the city, we have much to be proud of here. The great Irish stained glass window by Wilhelmina Geddes was restored with Irish Government support, and was rededicated at a Remembrance Service led by the window’s champion Reverend Father David Clunie of St Bartholomew’s Church. We wish him well on his retirement.

Ottawa was created and developed by its large and extensive Irish community, which reaches deep into the Ottawa, Rideau, and Gatineau Valleys. We are looking forward to developing our Bytown-Ottawa Irish Heritage Trail. Irish Senator and genealogist Jillian Van Turnout and I shared great stories on our inaugural tour of the trail, taking us from the city up to the great Irish community at Low and Venosta in the Gatineau. Just let me say this, it will be a long heritage trail with many stops along the way!

We have been busy at the Residence too with music, readings, receptions and networking dinners. The pandemic was well and truly over when we hosted our Team Ireland Conference at the Residence in June, joined by the State Agencies and colleagues from Dublin. We were delighted to work in partnership with Bord Bia and Tourism Ireland to bring the great Irish chef JP McMahon over to cook with Indigenous Chefs at the Field to Feast Festival in Glengarry. At the Residence, he showed me how to cook halibut! Prof Joseph Valente gave a great talk about Bram Stoker’s Dracula at the Residence to an audience enlivened by many in costume!

We hosted two great events at the Residence with Enterprise Ireland and the IDA promoting bilateral economic links. We were a bit rusty after two-years of pandemic induced torpor. However, thanks to a magnificent effort by the team, led by the incomparably active Second Secretary Sally Bourne, and diligently supported in all things by my wife Mary (truly a hostess with the mostest!), we really had some splendid evenings. We look forward to doing more.

Finally, we organized a simple gesture of lighting a candle of remembrance at the grave of some three-hundred victims the Famine Irish at Macdonalds Gardens Park Ottawa at dusk on the Winter Solstice, 21 December.  We did this in association with the National Famine Museum at Strokestown House, Quebec, Montreal, and Toronto where candles were lit.  We are planning to do this again next year at the Winter Solstice and look forward to doing so at more locations where Irish Famine victims lie.

As metrics go, social media may not be the best but nor is it the worst. We recorded some 600,000 impressions over the year, reflecting the wide interest in our content and activities.

After a busy year in a world where the predictable has been replaced by the uncertain, Christmas is special time of year to take some time out, reflect on the past and remind ourselves that compassion, generosity and kindness are what truly enrich life. I wish everyone a very happy Christmas, holiday season and New Year. 

Nollaig Shona Diaobh!


Ambassador of Ireland

Ottawa, 22 December 2022

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Memorial Service and Rededication of the Restored Geddes Window

Remarks at St Bartholomew’s Church, Ottawa, 6 November 2022

Eamonn McKee, Ambassador of Ireland

Go raibh míle maith agaibh go leir. I am honoured and delighted to a part of this service today as we rededicate this wonderful stained glass window by Irish artist Wilhelmina Geddes.

I want to pay particular thanks to Reverend Father David Clunie for inviting me to be a part of this restoration project. I thought at first he was just looking for money but I quickly realized that what he really wanted was my endorsement as the Irish Ambassador. He rightly intuited that this was a really important dimension to this endeavor.

Since our first meeting at the home of our neighbors Rob and Joanne Nelson, this has been great, a certain highlight of my time here. I have to say as a civil servant you do not often start a project and get to see it finished! But here it is less than two years later and how wonderful. The detail and clarity is amazing.

We should acknowledge too the restoration team who must have a special feeling for this window and they cleaned and restored it piece by piece. They have done a wonderful job.

Thank you then to David, his fundraising committee and all the supporters of this wonderful piece of Irish art, newly restored and good for another one hundred years.

The Geddes Window was commissioned in early 1916 when so much was in flux in Irish society and in art. Geddes was an artist working in the medium of stained glass, at the Túr Gloine studio in Dublin, part of a revival of artisanal craft and the medieval world. As Reverend Clunie noted, the medieval motif makes this work ageless.

When I approached my colleagues back at Headquarters, they immediately recognized the significance of this project and gathered funding to support it.

We hosted a reception last Thursday at Residence to mark the completion of the restoration. We premiered David’s wonderful documentary on the history of the Geddes Window. Beautifully done and soon to be online and available to the public. Well done David and all the volunteers who shared in its making.

As a result of the restoration, St Bartholomew’s and this Geddes Window will be a gem in the Bytown-Ottawa Heritage Trail on which we are working. We hope this will help make more people aware of this treasure, both here in Canada and in Ireland.

We will also put Rideau Hall and Rideau Gate on our Irish Heritage Trail. Call it reverse colonization!

These Church walls bear the names of Governor Generals. The first three after Confederation in 1867 were Anglo-Irish: Viscount Monck, born in Tipperary and educated at Trinity College Dublin; Lord Lisgar whose father was from Bailieborough in Country Cavan; and of course Lord and Lady Dufferin, Frederick and Hariot Blackwood, probably the most consequential couple to live at Rideau Hall as they transformed the function of that office.

The last private family living at No 7 Rideau Gate, now the Government of Canada’s official guest house, were the Ahearns. Lilias Ahearn Massey grew up there and became vice regal consort, attending the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II. From her Irish-born blacksmith great-grandfather, her grandfather Thomas and father Frank Ahearn, to that august role was but three generations

The Geddes Window represents a time in Ireland’s history when local loyalties and aspirations, hopes and fears collided with global events and the outbreak of World War I. The struggles in Ireland were projected onto the wider screen of European hostilities.

Ulster loyalists resisting Home Rule joined the Ulster Volunteer Force and then the 36th Ulster Division to fight for King, country and little Belgium.

Irish nationalists insisting on Home Rule joined the National Volunteers and then the British Army to fight for home rule for Ireland and little Belgium.

Irish Catholic Canadians joined the Canadian Expeditionary Force King, country, and home rule for Ireland.

They all fought and died for what they believed were noble causes.

The noble cause of Irish freedom also called to Irish patriots who fought for Ireland in the streets of Dublin in 1916 and paid the ultimate price for their beliefs.

We honour our patriot dead at our Garden of Remembrance. There in 2011, Queen Elizabeth II paid her respects. It was an historic peacemaking gesture in reconciling Ireland and Britain. In this year of her passing, we remember her too.

So this window is part of the mosaic of our shared history. Irish, British, and Canadian. Nationalist, unionist, and Commonwealth.

We remember today the 200,000 Irish men and women from all traditions who enlisted in the Great War and the 35,000 who fell.

To what degree they were betrayed by the great powers that led them to such horror and sacrifice remains a live historical debate. That debate enhances our memorial of them. It serves to remind us that war is a solemn and grim business.

That as all soldiers know who must put their lives on the line, the greatest honour is reserved for the peace makers.

We are honoured today to have with us a soldier and a peace maker, John de Chastelain. He and his fellow members of the Independent International Commission on Decommissioning helped take the gun out of Irish politics.

It is the peace makers who strive to avoid conflict until all other options are exhausted.

And when that fatal price is paid in the fight for our beliefs, we honour the fallen, we remember them.

Thank you.

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Joseph Quinn, Montréal Irish Person of the Year

Remarks by H.E. Eamonn McKee

Ambassador of Ireland to Canada

17 September 2022

(Evo Montreal 777 Boulevard Robert-Bourassa)

I want to thank Dan Doyle of the Erin Sports Association for the invitation to this event.  Indeed, I would like to thank all of the officers and members for their commitment to this organization and to the promotion of Irish heritage in Montreal. 

It is thanks to people like you that the story of the Irish in Canada is preserved, honored, and indeed built on for future generations.

Indeed, one of the great pleasures of my posting to Canada is exploring the story of the Irish here.  It is an epic story.  The Irish truly helped shaped Canada in so many ways. 

Guy Carlton, the First Baron Dorchester, was born in Strabane and earned fame as the man who saved Canada.  When the British took over, he ensured equality and rights for the Catholic French of Quebec under the Quebec Act of 1774. Otherwise, Quebec might have revolted or seceded to the United States. Coming from Ireland, he understood the divisive power of sectarianism and he helped Canada avoid those dangers at a critical moment.

Ireland’s patriots and poets helped shaped Canada’s sense of identity and imagination, people like Lord Edward FitzGerald, Thomas Moore, and Adam Kidd.

Bishop Michael Fleming reshaped Newfoundland politics in the 1830s and 1840s, and built the biggest cathedral in North America, St John’s Basilica.

Journalists and political thinkers like Thomas D’Arcy McGee shaped Canada’s constitution with confederation in 1867.

While a fifth of Irish Famine emigrants died on the way to or on arrival in Canada in 1847, four-fifths survived thanks to Canadian compassion and Irish resilience. They made new lives here and help make Quebec and Canada what it is today.

Richardson and Sons, one of the largest companies in Canada, was established in 1857 by an apprentice tailor from Aughnacloy, James Richardson. He came to Kingston and was paid in grain, forcing him to trade it, eventually to become one of the richest men in Canada and in the process establishing a family dynasty that built the Canadian economy.

Thomas Ahearn was the son of blacksmith from Ireland, living in Byward, what was then Bytown, later Ottawa. He was a businessman, inventor and really the founder of modern Ottawa, bringing electricity to the city, the first car (an electric one), a railway and spearheading the roads and parks of the Capital city.

These achievements were possible because of Irish communities and the organizations that sustained them and supported their leaders.  Some of the oldest and strongest of these are found here in Montréal.

I was not sure what to expect when I came here today, particularly after the pandemic and all the adverse effects that had on organizations.

To see such a huge turnout for this event, some seven hundred I was told, is a testament to the resilience of your organization and community here in Montreal.  For good reason, you have earned your reputation for the cohesion and deep roots of your traditions and the vitality of your Irish heritage in this great city.

There are few better representatives of the values of community, Irish heritage and public service than the honoree today, Irish Person of Joseph Quinn.

When Joseph was born in January 1942, the world was going through a tumultuous time.  Senior Nazi officials met at the Wannsee Conference to agree on the implementation of the Final Solution, deportation of Jews to Poland for extermination. 

This was at a time when the war was going badly for the Germans with defeat at the Battle of Moscow.  America had entered the war after the attack on Pearl Harbour the previous December. The first American soldiers to land in the European theatre of operations disembarked at Belfast, Northern Ireland

I have to say, Joseph, considering your birth year, you’re looking fresh as a daisy!

You share a birth month in January of 1942 with Mohamad Ali.

Yet far more significant for Verdun and the Irish community of Montreal was the birth of Joseph Quinn.  While you have lived in Verdun for over eighty years, you told me your dark secret: that you were born in Ottawa.  I am sure they have forgiven you!

Joseph has been a pillar of the Verdun community.  For 32 years, you dedicated your life to the service of your community in the Fire Department.

Your contribution to the community went way beyond your professional calling.  From community centers to food banks, from education and heritage to Christmas baskets and epilepsy campaigns, you were there organizing, supporting and fundraising.

Your priority of course was your family: your wife Heather (married in 1966), children Kevin, Kenneth and Shannon and grandchildren Patrick and Taggart Quinn.

Throughout all of this time, you were a major figure in the life of the Irish community, including the United Irish Societies of Montreal. 

Your public, volunteering, and community service has been recognized, rightly by a slew of awards.  All were thoroughly deserved.

However, I am sure that this award of Irish Person of the Year is a special one for you.  With a name like Quinn, how could it be otherwise?

I did some checking and our Honorary Consul, Michael Kenneally wrote the following to me:

Joe and his extended family have been part of the backbone of the Montréal Irish community for many years, especially that part of it associated with Point St. Charles. He was President of the United Irish Societies, which runs the parade, as was his sister Elizabeth and his son Ken, who is currently President of St. Patrick’s Society. Joe is a retired firefighter and has been and is very involved with charity work at a grassroots level – soup kitchens, etc.  He is a lovely man and a salt of the earth type of guy. I am sorry I cannot be there as I very fond of him and a great admirer of his commitment to community and the social welfare of its less well-off members.

This, Joseph, is what they are saying behind your back!

I am honored and proud to be a part of this occasion.  It is a particularly auspicious one since we can say, thanks to the pandemic, you are Person of the Year for three years running!

Being here allows me to say to you maith thú, well done Joseph, and congratulations.

Thank you.


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Black ’47 Commemoration and Remembrance, Ottawa

Of course it rained yesterday. We were assembling at a graveyard. Not just any graveyard but one that held hundreds of remains of Irish Famine refugees who died in what was then Bytown, today Ottawa. And not a graveyard by the look of it. It had been leveled to make Macdonald Gardens Park. That it had been a graveyard for the town between the 1840s and the 1870s has been largely forgotten. Yesterday the Embassy and local historian Michael McBane hosted an event to commemorate those brave people who helped the desperate Irish, and to remember the Irish that had fled the Irish Famine. It was the first time such an event had been held there. Over 130 people turned up to listen to the speeches and music, to recall those dreadful events and to commemorate the compassion of some very brave people. My remarks below thank those involved and recall the events of Black ’47, the greatest humanitarian disaster to hit Canada. What happened that year accelerated Canada’s drive for Confederation and ultimately Irish independence.

Irish Famine Commemoration and Remembrance

Macdonald Park, Ottawa, 4 August 2022

Remarks by H.E. Dr Eamonn McKee, Ambassador of Ireland to Canada

I want to thank our MC Pat Marshall for doing such a great job. James Maloney MP and chairman of the Canada Ireland Parliamentary Friendship Group, our champion of Irish causes and the story of the Irish in Canada.  I want to acknowledge the presence of Sister Rachelle Watier, Superior General of the Sisters of Charity, Ottawa, the delegation of Sisters and  Oblate Father Laroche with us today, representing a great tradition of compassion. Thank you to Rev Tim Kehoe for your powerful remarks and to Kevin Dooley for the gift of song and music.  All those who have made this event possible, thank you. 

I want to recognise the presence of Prof Mark McGowan whose scholarship has championed the story of the Irish in Canada and in particular the role that the Famine played in that story. He has delved deep into the archives of Strokestown House to trace the story and experiences of the tenants and their families displaced during the Great Famine from their homes in Roscommon to Canada.

I want to pay a particular tribute to local historian Michael McBane, an extraordinary resource on the Irish heritage of Ottawa and the Ottawa Valley.  His book on Bytown 1847 and Élizabeth Bruyrèreis is evocative and perceptive, humane and strategic. This event did not exist a month ago but after my suggestion, Michael worked with the Embassy team, bringing his energy, commitment and passion to help make this happen.

This event is about Commemoration and Remembrance.  We commemorate all those in Canada who helped the victims of the Irish Famine.  And we remember those victims who lie beneath our feet here.

Only a month ago, I had innocently thought that Macdonald Gardens was just a park, that the bones that rested here from the 1840s to the 1870s had been moved to Beechwood Cemetery.  Then Michael set me right.  Hundreds of the remains of the early settlers in Bytown lie here.  Along with them lie Irish Famine victims of 1847.

Having come from a wonderful ceremony at Grosse Ȋle in July where almost 5,500 famine remains lie buried with dignity and respect, my new awareness of Macdonald Gardens was quite a contrast.  That conjuration of Grosse Ȋle and Macdonald Gardens inspired this commemoration and this remembrance.

This event is a commemoration because of the heroic compassion and bravery of people like Sister Bruyrère and her band of sisters, less than twenty in number, most young women, many teenagers, some of them Irish.  They treated the Irish who were sickened by a disease of unknown cause, but often deadly effect; ship’s fever, typhus.  The Oblate Fathers took similar risks tending to the sick and the dying.  Some volunteer women too defied the terror of typhus. Dr. Van Cortland also ranks among these heroes, along with emigrant agent George Burke. Most of the Irish survived but those that died did so in the care and compassion of the Grey Sisters and all those who helped them.  That compassion in Canada was in stark contrast to the callousness that had seen them off the island of Ireland.

Today, we commemorate these heroes who found themselves faced with the greatest humanitarian disaster in Canadian history. They join the religious, medical and official heroes in Grosse Ȋle, Montreal, Quebec, Kingston, Toronto and many other places who fearlessly assisted the tens of thousands of starving and distraught Irish, unloaded by the British Government along the St Lawrence from the coffin ships that had taken them in cruel and often fatal conditions across the Atlantic.

There are undoubtedly other smaller communities in the Ottawa River, Rideau and St Lawrence River catchments that had similar encounters.  Some we know about.  Only an hour’s drive down the road at Cornwall there is a common grave of some fifty Irish famine victims, honoured by a Celtic Cross.  Many we do not.

The sites of Irish mass or common graves  have been protected and defended by local Irish communities.  Grosse Ȋle is an honoured place of remembrance today thanks to the intervention of Irish communities across Canada in the 1990s who insisted that the remains of the Irish be treated with dignity and respect.  That the awful events of 1847 be remembered.  To them and all the Irish community groups and individuals with a passion for Ireland and their heritage, on behalf of the Government of Ireland I offer most sincere gratitude for your efforts over the generations.

Blight and the failure of the potato did not cause the Great Irish Famine.  Colonialism caused the Famine, the death of one million and the emigration of another million.

The road to disaster began almost fifty years earlier when the British Government in 1800 abolished the Irish Parliament and ran Ireland directly, with sad indifference to its decline into the worst poverty in Western Europe.

Without proper government and with capital flight, Irish poverty became rampant, the potato being the poor families’ staple food. Though studied and widely reported over the years, nothing was done about it.  Being Catholic, it was held, meant that the Irish were responsible for their poverty, even if they were not responsible for their own government.  For imperialists, contradictions can be convenient.

The economic and agricultural decline of Ireland after 1800 was immediate.  From being a leading city of Europe, Dublin’s development halted and the city declined.  Every government in Europe regarded population growth as the key to economic development.  Except in Ireland.   Only in Ireland was population growth regarded by the ruling government in London as a problem, only there. Why was that? Sovereign countries delighted in population growth.  Imperial powers dreaded it in their colonies as a risk and a danger.

Ideology within the British Government played its part.  Government funding to relieve starvation was cut back in 1846.  Despite the starvation, exports of food continued so as not to disrupt the market.  Would the ideology of laissez-faire economics have trumped compassion and political sense had starvation ravaged England?  I think not.  To allow starvation and mass exodus act as instruments of social engineering could only be tolerated, even commended, in situations of colonial management and imperial interests.

Without the prospect of help, the Irish panicked and fled by whatever means they could find in 1847, what we remember as Black ’47.

We had a population of 8 million in 1845.  If we’re lucky, we might reach 7 million within the next decade.  Ireland today has one of the lowest population densities in Western Europe.

Today, we remember our Irish kin here in Canada.  The thousands who found themselves in Bytown, having survived the awful Atlantic passage, quarantine at Grosse Ȋle, and trafficking by barge down the St Lawrence Rivers. 

Most survived and built new lives in Canada, helping to create this nation with their energy and talents.  The evidence of that contribution is everywhere, even on our doorstep here in Ottawa.  One of the constant surprises of my posting here is the discovery of the depth of the Irish story in the capital city and in the Valleys of the Ottawa, the Gatineau, Rideau and St Lawrence.

Fifteen to twenty refugees from the Great Irish Famine died every day in Bytown that terrible summer of 1847. Every day their remains were brought here, a short distance from the Temporary Emigrant Hospital, or the tents on Barracks Hill, or the fever sheds on the Rideau Canal or even the streets of Lower Town.

Three hundred in all were buried here where we stand in Macdonald Park.  Most lie there still. 

Today, we are here to remember them.

Go raibh míle maith agaibh.

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Ireland at 100: Colonization, Self-Determination and What the Census Tells Us

After the Easter Rising in 1916, the War of Independence, British-imposed partition and a peace treaty in 1921, Ireland gained her independence 100 years ago.

It was a long road from the time when Norman invaders seized Dublin in 1170. The Normans might have been absorbed into Irish society, were it not for the brutal second conquest by the Tudors in the 16th century. After defeat in the wars of religion in the 17th century, the Catholic population lived under the thumb of a Protestant Anglo-Irish Ascendancy.

Yet like the Normans before them, in the 18th century the Ascendancy developed an Irish identity, proudly manifest in their Parliament in Dublin — the first purpose-built bicameral one in the world. They lobbied London successfully for Irish economic interests. Dublin boomed and the population recovered from the devastation of war. The penal laws against the Catholics withered away, save for the right to vote.

The French Revolution inspired both Irish Protestant and Catholic leaders to imagine a new, democratic Ireland where religion was secondary to citizenship. This put the fear of God into Britain’s political leadership. Encouraged by the French, the Rising of 1798 in Ireland confirmed the worst. The prime minister, William Pitt, decided that the Irish Parliament had to go. It was bullied and bribed out of existence in 1800.

The economic decline in Ireland was almost immediate. The development of Dublin stalled and never recovered. Agriculture declined, but the population, burgeoning to eight million, paid handsome rents to absent landlords even as desperate poverty proliferated. When the potato crop failed between 1845 and 1851, one million died, and one million emigrated. Emigration created a great diaspora but reduced the population by half.

In Black ’47, the worst year of the Great Famine, some 200,000 famine refugees fled, with half coming to Canada — mass graves dot the St. Lawrence to this day. Almost 40,000 arrived in Toronto to a resident population half that. It is to the city’s eternal honour that its doctors and nurses looked after them, often at a cost to their own lives.

If population is a measure of society’s well-being, colonialism in Ireland was a demonstrable failure. As the population in Western Europe doubled, Ireland continued its decline. Even today, the U.K. ranks eighth in population density, Ireland 36th.

How did independent Ireland fare? Shorn of our industrial base by partition, we struggled to develop; emigration continued for most of the 20th century. However, in the 1950s Ireland decided to look for investment internationally and started on a journey that would, by the 1990s, create the economic boom of the Celtic Tiger, ending involuntary emigration.

Thanks to foreign direct investment, membership in the EU, globalization and a well-educated workforce, Ireland’s strengths in pharmaceuticals, medtech, information and communication technologies, and digital and financial services have produced a robust economy that withstood the global financial crash and the pandemic.

Our focus on innovation, infrastructure and talent ensures our future. We have taken our place among the nations of the world. But what about our population?

By 2011, Ireland had the highest rate of fertility within the EU. Ten years later, in April 2021, the Central Statistics Office of Ireland reported the country’s population had reached 5.1 million. Combined with the population of Northern Ireland of 1.89 million, this put the population on the island at nearly seven million.

Just about a million to go, then, to restore the population we had over 170 years ago. We may still have not reached the pre-Famine population of over eight million, but we have established a strong upward trend that will get us there.

The rise in Ireland’s population demonstrates our success as a nation-state over the last 100 years. Self-determination beats colonialism.

The next Irish census happens in April, delayed by the pandemic but coincidentally falling on our 100th anniversary. We can fill in the form with a sense of achievement and national pride. This is us — we survived and prospered. Here are the statistics.

This blog appeared originally as an Op Ed in the Toronto Star on 17 March 2022 under the title ‘St. Patrick’s Day: What a century of Irish independence tells us.’

Eamonn McKee

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St Brendan’s Voyages in the North Atlantic and His Medieval Best Seller

As a university student, I once spent a summer working on the Shetland Islands.  In a yard by the sea just outside Lerwick, we broke and cut reinforced concrete off pipes rejected for the pipeline that would link the North Sea oil fields to an oil refinery in Sullom Voe at the north end of the main island.  Nearby, I used to see a man building a boat.  He was a loner, with a handsome chiselled face and rangy body. When I asked an English friend about him, he said he was building it to row across the Atlantic on his own, not telling anyone. I don’t know if he made it or not.  Whether that urge was courageous or suicidal, it seemed to me nonetheless admirable.  It seems even more so now in the social media age where nothing matters if it is not shared. 

My English friend was intent on settling in Shetland as a crofter and he worked with us in our primitive endeavours smashing concrete to make the money to achieve that. His plummy accent suggested that it was far from that lifestyle that he was raised.  There’s a certain class of people that are drawn to remoteness. Few however have the universal appeal, spiritual import, or cultural impact of St Brendan and his followers as they pursued their epic quest around the North Atlantic.

We like to think that St Brendan and his monks sailed and rowed across the Atlantic by its shortest route, from Kerry to Newfoundland. That it was technically possible using the technology of the time was demonstrated by Tim Severin in 1976-77.  That it was achieved in the 6th century, alas there is no evidence.

St Brendan may not have crossed the North Atlantic to Canada but he and his crew unmistakably traversed at good part of the Ocean, certainly as far as Iceland.  That much is evident from the ancient account of his voyage, the medieval best seller, Navigatio Brendani.  Written in Hiberno-Latin around 800, it was translated many times and is regarded as “popular Irish work of the entire Middle Ages…..It took on the stature almost of a European epic.”[1]  There are some 120 manuscripts running from the tenth to the sixteenth centuries, spreading as far north as the Baltics, east to Russia and south to the Iberian Penninsula.[2] 

St Brendan himself was an historical figure, born c.484 in Co Kerry, somewhere around Tralee Bay, possibly near Fenit or Kilfenora.  Baptised by Bishop Erc, he was fostered between the ages of one and six by St Ita, famous for her virtues and her school where she taught many of the patron saints of Ireland as young boys.  True faith, pure heart and simple life were her watchwords.  Brendan would visit her throughout his life and abide by her counsel. Famed for his chastity, even as young boy of ten years, he mercilessly beat a young princess for daring to ask him to play with her.[3]

As a follower of St Finnian, Brendan became known as one of the Twelve Apostles of Ireland.  He founded monasteries where he sailed, including the Aran Islands, islands off the Scottish coast, in Wales and Brittany.  His most famous monastery was at Clonfert in east Galway.

The Brendan voyage was particularly popular with the Anglo-Normans from the twelfth-century onwards.  The Normans were very keen on commissioning histories and biographies of their illustrious relatives in what was a deliberate creation of a distinct lineage and identity regarding Norman society.  As new conquerors and arrivistes, this makes sense. It was part pride in their achievements and part promulgation of their legitimacy to hold what they had won by conquest. 

Aristocratic women from the Carolingian through to the Middle Ages were keen patrons of literature, using their wealth to further the arts in the expensive business of translation and publication. They exercised their patronage to ensure the development of culture within their societies.[4]

As Susan M. Johns notes in Noblewomen, Aristocratic and Power in the Twelfth Century Realm, “In twelfth-century England and Normandy it is significant that women had a role in the patronage of innovative forms of literature which affected the development of secular literature.  Royal women were in the vanguard of patronizing these new forms of literature.”[5] Benedictine monk and church historian, Hugh of Fluery praised his patron, Adela of Blois, for her “generosity, intelligence and literary skills.” Queen Matilda, wife of Henry I who was son of William the Conqueror, commissioned William of Malmesbury to write his famous The Deeds of the King of England.  She also commissioned a life of her mother, Margaret of Scotland and, in turn, her granddaughter Matilda of Boulogne commissioned a life of her maternal grandmother, Ida of Boulogne.

It was also Queen Matilda that commissioned the translation of the Voyage of Brendan as a poem in French around the turn of the twelfth-century.  “It is the earliest surviving example of a poem in octosyllabic form, and prefigured romance literature” notes Johns. The Brendan epic was immensely popular:

 “It is a Celtic version of the classical odyssey poem, a well-worn literary theme, and thus possibly particularly popular at the Anglo-Norman court, given the eleventh-century Norman expansion into England, Wales and Sicily as well as the recent preaching and popular response to the first Crusade.  Thus Queen Matilda patronised a poet who was not only experimental and at the vanguard of creativity with fictional forms but who could provide the court with a cosmopolitan and exciting travel story.”[6]

We thus have a fascinating conjunction of wealthy and powerful royal women at the apex of societies created by the Norman warrior elite, who sponsor culture and entertainment, finding a popular hit in the life of an ascetic Irish monk devoted to the renunciation of this world and the creation of the monastic ideal. Is it possible to understand this popular appeal reading the tale today?

In my view, I think so.  Startlingly vivid images live on after a read-through of the Navigatio Brendani. [7]  Of the tortured Judas on his rock in the ocean, swarmed by demons and his pitiful pleading. Of the island of smithies hurling fiery rocks at Brendan and his crew such that the sea boiled.  The famous dejeuner sur le balon. Of a tree festooned by birds who chant and speak, bells ringing as they beat their wings (actually it is explained that they are the temporary embodiment of angels neutral during the war with Satan, a reference that brushed with heresy). Of the gigantic pillar in the sea (an iceberg) and its inexplicable net.  Of the clashing monsters of the deep and of the air. Of the monk from whose chest a demon emerges. Of the anchorite covered in white bodily hair living on a high circular island with little more than two caves, a stream and a helpful otter to get him going with supplies of fish.

There is the authentic but en passant reference to voyaging on the sea, the sense of brine, the description of difficult landing spots, and the chores of finding supplies.  Of hoisting the sail and either rowing or surrendering to the wind and currents in faith of God’s will. Naturalistic it certainly is, but it is not realism.  Its purpose rather is the other-worldly, the divine architecture of space and time, and how its gyres turn all about the heavens and earth so that Brendan and his crew return each of their seven years on the sea to the same place in accordance to the liturgical calendar, notably his high point, Easter devotions.

Their seven years of voyages are cyclical, calling in to meet other monasteries, hermits and anchorites, descriptions redolent of real encounters.  Their grail is ostensibly finding the Promised Land of the Saints but it in truth it is an allegory about the ideal monastic life. 

Amidst these gyrations, the fixed centre is the imperturbable figure of St Brendan, the man of God, the father of his group of monks.  He is the conduit for God’s will, commanding demons, reassuring his panicked companions, presciently seeing through the illusions to the divine purpose. His quest is successful as indeed he finds through a liminal fog the paradisiac Island suffused in divine light, moving beyond our time and space.  He can return home, his pilgrimage successful, to die as pre-ordained.

It is also clear that however fantastical the images, the tale is referencing actual locations, notably the Faroe Islands, Rockall, and memorably Iceland.[8] That he reached Greenland and the Sargasso Sea is, according to one authority, Elva Johnson, merely speculative. Had the tale said that Brendan sailed west to the Promised Land of the Saints one might argue he reached Newfoundland (like Severin’s landing at Hamilton Bay) but it is clear from the text that he sailed east. 

That said, Irish monks including St Brendan did in fact extensively explore the North Atlantic and settled its islands in the search of the perfect monastic life such as famously at Iona in the Hebrides. Brendan himself, in addition to his main establishment in Clonfert (east Galway) established monasteries in the islands near Iona.  He was not alone in this as Comgall of Bangor and Colum Cille did so too.[9] Dicuil, an Irish geographer of the early ninth-century, notes that Irish monks settled Iceland around 795 and recent research suggests they settled on the Faroes.[10] 

For the Normans, then, the appeal of the Brendan voyage seems clear.  It is a familiar literary form.  It is an adventure for an adventuring society, ready to head into the unknown.  The search for the New Jerusalem implicit and at times explicit in Brendan’s quest resonates with the prize of the actual Jerusalem, seized by the Crusaders in 1099, in which Normans played a key role.  This was only a few years before Matilda commissioned the translation.  The voyage involves a group of men headed by a leader whose qualities the Normans admired in their own leaders: calm in a crisis, matter of fact in the face of daunting odds (the English stiff upper lip traces back to the Anglo-Normans), ingenious in finding solutions in the nick of time. Brendan faced into the North Atlantic just as they had themselves ventured from the Norman Dukedom to conquer England, Sicily and Antioch.  These were men who understood the risks and rewards of venturing into the unknown.  And that success depended on coherence within the group.  When Brendan has chosen his fourteen brothers, he gathered them in one oratory and told them of his ‘fixed determination’.  “How does this seem to you. What advice would you give?”  In unison, they replied: “Abbot, your will is ours.  Have we not left our parents behind?  Have we not spurned our inheritance and given our bodies into your hands?  So we are prepared to go along with you to death or life.  Only one thing we ask, the will of God.”   The audience of Norman aristocrats listening to the cadences of this part of the Brendan epic would have recognized their own ethos, the coherence and discipline that had made them the most successful knightly adventurers in history.  If the monks wielded love and the Normans swords, they were still all soldiers, a strong motif both in the Navigatio and for the monastic tradition generally.  Both believed that they were doing God’s will. Brendan’s triumph mirrored their own wishes that their violence and invasions would all turn out well in the end, would be in fact in accord with God’s plan.  Everyone likes a Hollywood ending.

The Normans would have shared too St Brendan’s insatiable curiosity. Marvelling at the wonders of nature was for monks a way of understanding God through the world he had created.  Yet for St Brendan, his curiosity is almost a torture.  When he sees the birds cover the tree so thickly that the tree can barely be seen, he was so tormented for an explanation about them that tears flowed down his cheeks in a rare humanizing vignette: ‘God, who knows the unknown and reveals all that is secret, you know the tortures of my heart, I implore your majesty to have pity and revel to me, a sinner, through your great mercy your secret that I now look upon with my eyes.’[11] 

Above all, the Brendan voyage is a Christian tale, told as fiction based on threads of real events and snippets from real places, but ultimately an allegory about the path to God.  “Brendan’s battlefield in within himself.  Heroic struggle in the Middle Ages, while cosmic in its conventional trappings, is essentially a personal quest for knowledge or enlightenment, a psychological conflict, a psychomachia.”[12]  It is a Christian tale for a society infused with zealous religious fervour.  This was so intense that it changed their social mores to adopt monogamy and primogenitor as a rule of political succession.  It generated the corpus of values that became chivalry and stirred literary imaginations to create romantic literature. It propelled all ranks of society to join in long and dangerous pilgrimages to the Holy Land and the sometimes map-cap journeys that were the crusades. 

Reading the tale of St Brendan is like watching a clockwork diorama.  The boat circulates and arrives on its liturgical schedule, scenes unfold, patterns repeat, numbers freighted with meaning like 3, 7, and 40 recur, time becomes timeless, all unfolds as it must. “Almost every episode in the Navigatio Brandani revolves around a unit of time pregnant with religious meaning, resonant with symbolic import, rich with biblical reminiscence.”[13]

The prize that Brendan sought, salvation, appears to differ markedly from the very material wealth and status that the Normans sought.  Yet in reality, the Normans were, too, prepared to invest heavily in salvation, endowing and building abbeys, churches and cathedrals.  They funded in large part the great renaissance of the early Middle Ages expressed in such soaring triumphs as Chartres Cathedral and Mont St Michel. For the warrior elite, how to resolve the contradiction of being killers and good Christians was a conundrum, the easing of which gave the Church its great political leverage.  That leverage forged a partnership between the church and kings that was fundamental to the creation of the centralised nation states emerging in Western Europe from the 11th and 12th centuries onwards.

For though St Brendan’s ultimate goal was unity with God and paradise, he reached this, at least allegorically, through a search for an earthly paradise, the Promised Island of the Saints, an actual place where no one dies, no seasons change (once thought a consequence of the Original Sin and the Fall[14]), and light shines perpetually independent of the sun and moon since paradise is beyond time.  Certainly, one had to pass a portal of fog to access it, a liminal entry point between the real and the perfect, but enter it one could.

Like El Dorado or even the Maltese Falcon, it is what dreams are made of: “Christians believed that there might be an earthly paradise, although they debated about its nature and location. For some, it was the Garden of Eden, lost in the east. For others, there was a paradise under the Caucasus Mountains in Central Asia….many more came to see it as being hidden in the ocean to the west.”[15]  This notion was but a short step from seeing St Brendan landing in North America as an early European claimant to the landmass, divinely ordained.

For all its combination of biblical and classical tropes, the Brendan voyage is very recognisably Irish with its roots in the immrama genre.  Journeys to and adventures in otherworldly places.  Islands that appear and disappear like Hy Brasil.  Fogs as liminal entry points.  Talking animals that are guides, lost souls, or tricksters.  Not surprisingly there are no deer turning into beautiful women or beautiful women disappearing into the mist but there are evouring monsters bearing names.  Places of eternal youth too, recalling like Tír na nÓg.  The hero’s return home and his death.  All echo through Brendan’s voyage. 

The other strong Irish element is the ascetic ideal of the monks.  Towards the end of the eight-century asceticism enjoyed a strong revival in Ireland, just as the Brendan voyage was being written.  Derived from Egypt and Syria, notably in the example of St Anthony, and influenced by the teachings of British saints like St Gildas and St David, the ascetic ideal appealed strongly to many in early Christian Ireland.  Asceticism became deeply inculcated in its monastic life, a movement led by the Célí Dé, or companions of God.  The culdees, as they were know, were rigorous ascetics though now they formed groups, unlike the anchorites of previous times.  “It is surely reasonable to apply the words ‘reform’ or, better, ‘religious revival’ to these developments”, writes the indispensable Kathleen Hughes in her classic The Church in Early Irish Society.[16]

One of the culdee leaders was Máel ruain, founder of Tallaght and it is probably no coincidence that the first reference to Brendan’s adventures is associated with Tallaght.  In this context, the Brendan Voyage serves to rally the troops in rejection of the laxities of the ‘old church’.  The culdees rejected meddling in the real world, such as missionary trips to Europe, and saw great dangers in exposure to women.  Voyaging in the Atlantic in search of inspiring fellow-travellers was a feasible alternative to simply staying put.  Cross-vigils (arms outstretched), vigils in water, flagellation by another monk, and long fasts from food and water, rote learning and long recitations,  were some of the rigors the culdees put themselves through. Like them, Brendan and his monks fast regularly, often only eating every second or third day.  Like them, Brendan and his monks only ease their routines for liturgical celebrations.

For all the devotions and asceticism of Irish monasteries, Ireland in the 9th century was a place of violence and turmoil.  The first Viking attack on Ireland occurred in 795 and they continued to plunder the monasteries, interrupting its Golden Age for decades.  They were out for plunder which they found in the monasteries and for slaves, which they found in the populations which had settled around the monasteries. What people they did not take as slaves, they slaughtered and then burned the monastery.  This was a new type of warfare, unfamiliar to the Gaelic Irish where heretofore warfare was a largely aristocratic activity focused on cattle-raiding.  Quite how much turmoil the Vikings sowed in Ireland is hard to judge.  Certainly it was significant since the Viking focus was on the monasteries that provided the urban hubs for Gaelic Ireland as centres of worship, learning, craft, culture and trade.[17] 

Gaelic Irish kings like Feidlimid, king of Munster, raided and burn monasteries, though less frequently than Vikings.  Paradoxically he was regarded as a leading ascetic, scriba et ancorita. Monasteries themselves fought each other, with even St Brendan’s at Clonfert engaged in pitched battles.  For protection, monasteries often were led by abbot-kings, the better to afford them protection.  Families controlled monasteries through inheritance and their integration into Gaelic society inevitably meant they were embroiled in its regnal wars.  Writes Hughes: “So the old practices went on, and while one anchorite dwelt alone in his hermit’s cell, renouncing this wretched world, another who held a kingdom, assumed abbacies, burned churches beyond his own borders, and slew their inhabitants.”[18]  Amidst all this turmoil, no wonder that the Navigatio Brendani was needed to hold up an ideal of the monastic life.

All of this would seem to point to weakness of the monastic system, a lack of centralised authority and hierarchy that the ascetic revival was by nature not equipped to mitigate or repair.  As Ó Croinín points on in his Early Medieval Ireland 400-1200, now the standard historical survey of the period, the ‘new orthodoxy’ about the Irish church at this time is that there was no organization.  This is not a view that Ó Croinín shares and he points the fact that there were no disagreements about dogma and doctrine and, moreover, the regular synods of church leaders were capable of concerted disciplinary action, such as the censuring of St Columba and exile to Iona.[19]  This debate centres on the nature of political control, whether a society or political entity can be organized without being centralized. It is central to later debates around political organisation in Ireland prior to colonization.  Colonizers justified their conquests and destruction of Indigenous societies for their lack of centralization even if the evidence of organisation is all round them.  

Ironically enough, just as Queen Matilda was commissioning a translation of the Navigatio Brandani three centuries later, the Irish church was undergoing a period of serious reform, an attempt to strengthen the diocesan structure that has failed to take root, with increased communication with Rome and the introduction of the Benedictine rule.  Ireland’s reputation in Europe as a place of moral laxity in the church was doing its reputation real damage. This was used by English Churchmen to argue for an invasion of Ireland later in the century.

“Monastic and clerical life were thus drawn into the continental pattern as never before, and liturgical customs were revived. Twelfth-century architecture and sculpture bear the imprint of these fundamental changes”, writes Hughes, citing the example of Cormac’s chapel on the Rock of Cashel, consecrated in 1134, with its continental Romanesque influences (and to my mind redolent of Jerusalem in its use of bright sandstone, not grey granite).[20]

The new orthodoxy turned a critical eye to pre-reform literature and a provoked a caustic dismissal of the Brendan Voyage as an insult to the saint. Hughes sums up the scholar’s distain: “Are we to believe that Brendan, for the sake of a rumour, irresponsibly abandoned the three thousand brethren whom God had committed to his direction; that he wandered for seven years, celebrating Easter on a whale’s back, seeking on the seas what is promised in heaven?  The whole story is condemned as silly, crazy, and hostile to the faith.”[21]

Crazy it may have seemed even in twelfth-century Ireland but the allure of the Navigatio Brandani was enduring, precisely because seeking heaven on earth might was not be crazy if you could get there without paying the normal price of admission, namely death.  Brendan’s Island was a mainstay of medieval and renaissance cartography as Johnson notes, placed variously off the coast of Africa, just north of the Canaries, or in the Atlantic.  “Between 1526 and 1721 four naval expeditions left the Canaries in search of the promised land of St Brendan.”[22]  As Anderson writes: “Columbus mentioned Brendan’s Island, the Earthly Paradise, in his diary. It remained on navigational charts into the eighteenth century.”[23]  This despite the tale’s own location of the island to the east and near Ireland.

If it is unlikely that St Brendan did reach Newfoundland, that is not to say that a monk or monks did not set out across the unknown and make landfall on the North American continent. The hardy ascetic monks of Ireland were more than able for the rigors of such a journey.  More importantly, they had the ideology to attempt such a feat, an act of zealous devotion to their beliefs.  At the outer edge of the world they would have expected to meet and challenge demons, testing their spiritual valour as soldiers of Christ.  They would have emulated Christ’s exile from heaven while on earth saving mankind.  To truly emulate Christ, one had to embrace exile. For those with an expectation of return, such a journey would have been a pilgrimage.  More universally, such a venture would been a response to innate human curiosity to look beyond the horizon, a powerful drive in our nature that humans as a species have exhibited throughout their existence.

Finding any traces of Irish monks beyond Iceland is hard to imagine but possible. Until then, we must leave the honours to the Vikings who managed the journey in 1000 AD, the first time that humans finally closed the loop by travelling completely around the world. Along the way, they had destroyed the monastic settlements in the remote islands of the north North Atlantic and ended the wanderings of the monks in search of ideal locations to live their ideal life on earth.

In global terms, the Vikings’ achievement was less impressive than at first appears.  The already established sea route from the Persian Gulf to Guangzhou in China would remain the longest until the sixteenth century, as least twice as far as Columbus. Nonetheless the Viking journey of Leif Ericson was epic, putting in place the final link in a global trade route that arguably was the starting point of globalisation:

“In 1000, Viking explorers closed the global loop.  For the first time an object or a message could have travelled across the entire world.  True, we do not know – yet!- of any item that did so.  But because the Viking voyages to Canada in the year 1000 opened up a route from Europe to the Americas, it is fact – not supposition – that a network of global pathways took shape in that year.”[24] 

That the Vikings were hunting for monastic settlements and their riches means that indeed Irish monks like St Brendan played an inadvertent part in stimulating globalization.

Eamonn McKee


26 March 2022

[1] Dáibhí Ó Croinín, Early Medieval Ireland 400-1200 (Routledge, 2017), 2nd Edition.  Ó’Croinín notes that there is little solid evidence to support one contending author, Israel Scottus. P. 242.

[2] John D. Anderson, The Navigatio Brandani: A Medieval Best Seller, The Classical Journal, Apr-May 1988, Vol 83 pp 315-322.  This is an excellent account and analysis.  While the earliest text is from Germany in the tenth century, there is a reference to the voyage in the Martyrology of Tallaght from around 800, as he notes.

[3] Rev. John Ryan, SJ, Irish Monasticism, Origins and Early Development, (Talbot Press, 1931), p 249.  This is a learned, charming and detailed account of its subject matter told from the perspective of unshaken belief.

[4] Similarly in the animal kingdom.  Female orcas are fertile from ten years to forty but live to eighty and scientists believe their role is to preserve and pass on culture and knowledge to the rest of the pod.  “Scientists currently believe that the presence of healthy older females, not depleted by pregnancies or distracted by nursing, has a knowledge-transmitting function: they can, in effect, serve as the group’s resident professors!”  Martha S. Nussbaum, What We Owe Our Fellow Animals, NYRB, March 10, 2022, vol. LXIX, 4, p 36.

[5] Manchester University Press, 2003, p 36.  Johns is doing fantastic work excavating the role of the woman, so often buried and ignored by contemporary chroniclers and subsequent historians alike. See also John’s Gender, Nation and Conquest in the High Middle Ages, Nest of Deheubarth (Manchester University Press, 2013) for the life of a woman hugely consequential in the history of Ireland but barely known in Ireland.

[6] Ibid, p 37.

[7] The Voyage of St Brendan, Journey to the Promised Land, translated by John J O’Meara, Dolman Texts 1 (Dolman Press).

[8] See Elva Johnson, The Voyage of St Brendan, Landscape and Paradise is Early Medieval, Brathair 19 (1), 2019.

[9] Michael Richter, Medieval Ireland, The Enduring Tradition (Gill and MacMillan, 1988), p 51.

[10] Ibid, p 40 and p 41.

[11] O’Meara, p 20.

[12] Anderson, p 317.

[13] Ibid, p 321.

[14] Johnson, p 48.

[15] Johnson, p 37.

[16] Methuen, 1966, p 174.

[17] Kathleen Huges, The Irish Church, 800-1050, NHI, I, pp 636-639.

[18] Hughes, p 193.

[19] Pp 167-168.

[20] Ibid, p 271.

[21] Ibid, p 273

[22] Johnson, p 50.

[23] Anderson, p 316.

[24] Valerie Hansen, The Year 1000, When Explorers Connected the World – and Globalisation Began (Scribner, 2020), p 23 and p 25.

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A History of Canada and the Irish in Canada in 250 Words

The establishment of Canada was shaped by beaver hunting (felt for the global hat industry; leading to exploration westward),  relations with the Indigenous, climate, the fact that its river systems run east-west where in the US they run north-south, the co-existence of French and English settlers, the withdrawal of France and rule by Britain, tensions between large Protestant and Catholic populations, lumber extraction, mass European immigration, relations with the US, participation in WW I and WW II, and the fossil fuel industry. Politically and constitutionally Canada was shaped primarily by events in and awareness of developments in Britain, Ireland and the United States (notably horrified reaction to the civil war and the Fenian threat of invasion).

Most Irish immigrants arrived before the Famine, two-thirds of them were Protestant and the Orange Order became the dominant social and political association in English-speaking Canada up to the 1970s.  Irish settlement patterns are deep and precede Great Famine immigration which was tragic and short-lived, with most refugees heading to the US. The Irish in Canada were determined to become good Canadian citizens, while cherishing their Irish identity.  They have made an enormous and largely unregistered contribution to the development of Canada.  Canada was the future that Ireland never had, due to the abolition of the Irish parliament in 1800, the failure to restore it in the subsequent 120 years, and the paradigm-shifting Easter Rising.  Ireland and Canada today embrace the diversity and rights of their historical identities and of their contemporary societies.


Eamonn McKee

Ambassador of Ireland

Ottawa, 9 January


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Canada is the Future that Ireland Never Had

You will find below the text of an article recently published by iPolitics, widely read in Parliament, with thanks to editor Heather Bakken at iPolitics for the opportunity.   The formation of Canada’s constitution and politics was determined by three sources of influence; Britain (as sovereign), Ireland (as an example of misrule to be shunned or occasionally followed in the case of the RIC as a model for the RCMP, for example), and the United States whose civil war horrified Canadians. Irish emigrants to Canada made an enormous contribution here including in state building, largely unacknowledged (we have plans to change that.) Those familiar with Irish history and Irish historiography will note the emphasis I put on 1800 and the abolition of our parliamentary democracy. For many historians, the narrative divide is the Great Famine but in recent years I have come to the conclusion that in fact the greatest damage was done by the 1800 abolition by London of what is fondly known as Grattan’s Parliament. That triggered a decline enabling the Great Famine but its disastrous effects were many and long lasting. The impact of that most destructive act, I would argue, can still be felt today in Ireland. (I have wondered lately whether the loss of the parliament and the decline that set in encourage Protestant emigration since two-thirds who came to Canada between 1800 and the Great Famine were Protestant?) I posit Canada as a counter-narrative or what-might-have been in Ireland had our parliament endured. True it was an all-Protestant parliament but by the 1830s or the 1840s it would certainly have had to admit Catholics given political demands in Ireland and the pace of franchise reform in England. I allude to the fresh usefulness of Canada as we in Ireland envisage our future as a shared island. Exploring these rich dimensions to our bilateral relations has been an exciting adventure since my arrival here.

Ireland and Canada: Our complex past points to a bright future

All diplomats work within a bilateral environment defined by politics. Those political narratives tend to have a long narrative arc. What’s fascinating about the Irish-Canadian relationship is that we’re living through a shift in that narrative. That shift points to a bright future.

Since it’s my job to promote good relations, your response might be, “Well, he would say that, wouldn’t he.” I have a strong case, however, and can point to three specific events that shifted our narrative, namely 1867, 1916, and 2011.

Read my full opinion piece here

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Canada’s Exploring Irish

Every Irish emigrant was and is an explorer of sorts. However, the Irish as significant explorers into lands unknown (at least to Europeans) is not often highlighted.

With temperatures dropping and snow on the ground, think of the Irish explorers of the Canadian Arctic.  I asked John Geiger, CEO of the Royal Canadian Geographic Society, for his take on the Irish contribution to Canadian exploration.  Immense, he said, and immediately suggested four figures.

Francis Rawdon Moira Crozier: While he is not profiled yet in the excellent Canadian Dictionary of Biography (free online), you can find his story in Wikipedia. He was born in Banbridge, Co. Down (which erected a fine statue to him), joined the British Navy at age thirteen, and explored the Arctic and Antarctic six times.  Fatefully, he joined the Franklin Expedition in 1845 to navigate the Northwest Passage: ‘Crozier was considered to lead this expedition, but his Irish ancestry and humble birth counted against him.’  Icebound for a year, with its leader Franklin dead, Crozier led the survivors in hope of reaching the Canadian mainland.  They were never found.  Public opinion demanded a search for the lost expedition.  The fate of the expedition fate became a national obsession in Britain.

Francis McClintock from Dundalk joined the Franklin search parties between 1848 and 1859.  He developed a system for using human-pulled sledges; ‘McClintock’s system would revolutionize polar exploration by allowing seaborne expeditions to extend their range by thousands of miles’, notes the CDB. Finally in command of his own search party paid for by Franklin’s wife, McClintock found relics and skeletons proving conclusively that Franklin and his men died on King William Island.  So the man from Dundalk found the man from nearby Banbridge. McClintock returned a hero, having solved the mystery.

Robert McClure was born in Wexford in 1807.  He is profiled in the CDB as the man who not only was the first to circumnavigate the Americas but was also the first to traverse the famed Northwest Passage, the first indeed to cross Canada from the Pacific to the Atlantic.  His voyage as commander of the Investigator is an epic of Arctic travels, again begun to find the Franklin Expedition.  He and his crew spent four winters there and though he was court-martialled for losing his ship, parliament rewarded him after his acquittal and he was knighted. Interestingly, McClure survived by employing an Inuit interpreter and guide, finding better places to winter, and use of cairns as message stations (which led directly to his rescue).  Had Franklin done this, he and his expedition might have survived.

John Pallister was born in Dublin.  The CDB notes that ‘the devoutly Protestant Pallisers combined social eminence and a lively social, artistic, and intellectual life with a tradition of public service and conservative politics. They travelled extensively, living not only in Ireland at Derryluskan House, County Tipperary, at Comragh House, and in Dublin, but also in London, Rome, Florence, Paris, and Heidelberg.’  Explorer, big game hunter, and passionate traveller, Palliser began an exploration and survey of the Canadian Northwest between 1857 and 1859, opening it up to colonial settlement. After a life of adventures that eventually bankrupted him, Pallister retired to Comragh House where he died in 1887 and was buried in nearby Kilrossanty.

After Palliser’s survey, and to support the settlement of the Northwest, Canada’s first Prime Minister, John A. McDonald, wanted an armed, mounted gendarmerie. He instructed that it be modelled on the Royal Irish Constabulary.  This new organisation would evolve into one of the most iconic of Canadian institutions, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.

It was not all men of course. I searched for Murphy in the CDB and found the story of Dubliner and popular 19th century traveller writer Anna Murphy.  She became an object of fascination to Canadians for her explorations in Upper Canada which she published as Winter Studies and summer rambles in Canada in 1838. She was less impressed with Toronto but was dazzled by Canada’s unspoilt natural environment.  The CDB concludes that ‘In Canada, Winter studies and summer rambles has remained a classic among our travel journals.’

Season’s greetings,


Eamonn McKee


Ottawa, 21 December 2021

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