This Language Kills Colonialism

Let's not lose it

It might come as a surprise to some that Ireland has its own national language. It might bewilder yet others that this language is called Irish and might truly shock even more that it is as closely related to English as, say, Arabic is to French — that is to say, that it is not closely related to English at all. Of course, this is not particularly Earth-shattering news to the Irish themselves, who have fought tooth and nail to keep Irish, the indigenous language of their island, alive — and yes, there really is no need to add the word “Gaelic” after “Irish” unless you also sanction talk of ‘Russian Slavic’ or ‘Danish Germanic’.  

There was a time when Irish in all its diverse dialectal glory was the uncontested lingua franca across the island’s four historic provinces. Around the basalt cliffs of the rugged North, a crisp Ulster Irish once cut through the cool air; on the wild Atlantic shores of the mist-veiled South, a melodic Munster dialect matched the relentless rhythm of the crashing waves. On the craggy boulder-strewn West coast and on its many gale-swept isles, still strongholds of the Irish language today, a steady and even-toned Connacht Irish contrasted sharply with the region’s unforgiving physical geography. And finally, among the rolling hills and emerald-veiled pastures of Ireland’s East, you could still make out a distinct (now sadly extinct) Leinster dialect.

Unfortunately, like with all things Irish, this was spoiled by the English, to put things mildly. To put things accurately: throughout most of Ireland’s post-Medieval history, the English (and later British) waged a brutal campaign of occupation, dispossession, induced famines, and forced assimilation. During occupation, the Irish language was subjected to various bans and restrictions with its use in formal legal and educational domains being entirely stamped out. This savage subjugation brought the number of Irish speakers from over 4,000,000 in 1800 (then, 80 per cent of Ireland’s population) to just 620,000 in 1901. 

Fortunately, occupation of the vast majority of Ireland effectively came to an end in 1922, but only after hundreds of years of rebellions and uprisings which left blood-soaked the island’s verdant fields. And it should come as no surprise that the revival of the Irish language went hand-in-hand with cultivating the national sentiment which ultimately freed the South from colonial rule. Prominent Irish freedom-fighters like Patrick Pearse and James Connoly were also ardent supporters of the ‘Gaelic Revival’, guided by a real sense that Ireland could not truly be a nation without the Irish language. As Pearse once said: “Tír gan teanga, tír gan anam” — a country without a language is a country without a soul. 

Thankfully, revival has been a political priority in modern Ireland. Irish is Ireland’s first national language, it’s a compulsory subject in school, there are a number of radio and TV channels streamed exclusively in Irish, and the government has identified and directed extra funding to the ‘Gaeltacht’, regions where Irish is recognised as the predominant vernacular. The language even gained official recognition in the occupied North, although only as late as 2022, and it bears no repeating the trouble the Irish there had to endure just to secure equal rights — no more than three decades ago.

Nevertheless, though upwards of 1.8 million people claim they can speak Irish, in the South, only around 70,000 people speak it outside the classroom on a daily basis, with some 40,000 extra speakers in the North. UNESCO even labels Irish a “definitely endangered” language. 

So, why and how should you, the reader, play a part in the revival of an endangered language? Put simply, like with learning any other language, learning an endangered language gives you access to a wealth of cultural knowledge, traditions, and perspectives — the only difference being that, when it comes to endangered languages, this cultural heritage is at a real danger of being lost. Thankfully, the ‘how’ is rather simple. The only real rule when it comes to keeping a language alive is to learn it and to speak it. 

So, why not just give it a go? Whether it’s a language your grandparents once spoke or one for which you just feel some innate connection. Whether it’s a “critically endangered language” like Manx, a “definitely endangered language” like Irish, or — and you’ll have to pardon my Celtic focus — a language like Welsh that with help of passionate speakers, learners, and activists, has risen from the ashes of near-extinction to achieve the coveted status of merely “vulnerable”. 

Just remember: even, if at first, you feel you are butchering the pronunciation, slaughtering the syntax, and massacring the grammar, any honest attempt is already a staunch symbol of defiance towards those that have actually butchered peoples and their languages. As the Irish say: ‘Is fearr Gaeilge bhriste ná Béarla cliste’ — better broken Irish than clever English.

Image from Wikimedia Commons