JAMES CONNOLLY : SOCIALIST, NATIONALIST & INTERNATIONALIST
By Liam McNulty
Merlin Press. 403 pages. £25. ISBN 978-0-85036-783-6
Reviewed by Jim Burns
I think it’s true to say that for most people outside the Irish
Republic the name of James Connolly will only be known because of
his being one of the leaders of the Easter 1916 Rising in Dublin who
were executed by the British Government. An added factor with regard
to Connolly was that he had been badly wounded during the fighting
and had to be carried out on a stretcher and strapped to a chair so
that the firing squad could shoot him.
Who was James Connolly and how did he arrive at a point in his life
where he took part in what was a doomed attempt to oust the British
from Ireland? Born in 1868 to Irish parents living in Glasgow he
left school when he was eleven. In 1882. At the age of fourteen he
joined the British Army and was stationed for several years in
Ireland where he met his future wife. He left the army in 1889 (why
and how are unclear) and moved back to Scotland. He appears to have
become radicalised by this time and joined the Socialist League (SL)
an organisation founded by William Morris, Edward Aveling, Eleanor
Marx, and Ernest Belfort Bax. It was one of a variety of left-wing
groups that Connolly would pass through at one time or another in
the following twenty-five or so years.
Connolly had joined the SL at a moment In the history of British
labour activism when the so-called “New Unionism” was in full swing.
Workers in previously unorganised industries such as the docks and
gas works were starting to form unions under the leadership of Ben
Tillett, Tom Mann, and Will Thorne. It was a period when the Bryant
and May match girls attracted sympathetic attention to their
struggle for better pay and working conditions. Other countries were
similarly affected, and ideas about syndicalism and industrial
unionism were taking shape in Spain, France, and the United States.
Were they one and the same thing? Industrial unionism didn’t
necessarily go beyond organising all the workers in the same
industry into the same union regardless of their skills, thereby
extending their bargaining power, whereas syndicalism implied
transferring the ownership and control of the means of production
and distribution to workers’ unions. I realise these are quick
definitions, and may be open to debate, but they should indicate the
general principles involved..
It was a fact, however, that there were limitations to what unions
could achieve, and many people called for political involvements in
terms of representation in Parliament. Socialist parties were being
formed in Germany, France, and elsewhere, and Connolly joined the
Independent Labour Party (ILP), though always retaining his interest
in syndicalism. He was sacked from his job with Edinburgh
Corporation because of his political activities, and moved to Dublin
in 1896 with his wife and daughters. He had been offered employment
as organiser for the Dublin Socialist Society. Ireland was
predominantly a rural country with only a small industrial working
class, though Belfast was an exception. Its shipyards and supporting
industries did provide employment for skilled and semi-skilled
workers though, as Connolly soon found out, any attempts to organise
in the northern counties were bedevilled by sectarian differences.
The Protestant working-classes were suspicious of anything with
links to Catholicism, socialism and the south, and of ideas that
seemed to lean towards a break with Britain.
Connolly, who had proved adept at writing – he had published poems
and short-stories – was quickly turning out articles for the
left-wing press. He joined the newly-founded Irish Socialist
Republican Party (ISRP). It was a time of both political and
cultural ferment in Dublin. The Gaelic Revival was well under way,
with W.B. Yeats prominent and a vibrant theatre sector alive and
productive. There was a rise in a form of “new cultural nationalism”
which was a challenge, in Liam McNulty’s words, to the “then
seemingly moribund Home Rule movement”. This isn’t the place to
discuss the merits or otherwise of Home Rule for Ireland, but
suffice to say that it divided the country, both north and south,
and among those who favoured an independent Ireland as opposed to
those who were prepared to accept the fact of an Irish parliament
within the framework of the British Empire.
It might give an idea of
where someone like Connolly stood in terms of loyalty to the Empire
if it’s noted that, when the Second Boer War started in 1899, he
came out firmly on the side of the Boers. The war, he said, was
launched by “a government of financiers on a nation of farmers”.
This didn’t make him popular in official circles in London, nor
among pro-British Irishmen.
In 1902 Connolly embarked on a speaking tour of the United States.
He had established links with Daniel De Leon and the American
Socialist Labour Party (SLP) whose political programme had
similarities to that of the ISRP. The SLP practised “a distinctive
blend of electoralism and industrial unionism” and seems to have had
an influence on Connolly’s thinking in terms of a practical way
forward. But he broke with the ISRP when he returned to Dublin and
discovered that money he had earned in America and sent to Ireland
to support the organisation had been used to set up a bar at its
headquarters.
He went back to Edinburgh and joined the Scottish Socialist Labour
Party but in 1903, “tired and disillusioned by the faction fighting
in the British labour movement”, decided to move to America, where
he stayed until 1910. He was in at the formation of the Industrial
Workers of the World (IWW) which for a short time seemed to capture
the imaginations of many writers and intellectuals with its
hard-fought strikes and flamboyant free speech fights. Its
difficulties in maintaining efficient branches once they’d been
established, coupled with employer-hostility and government
repression when America entered the war in 1917, eventually led to
its collapse into relative insignificance.
I have to say at this stage that a reader not well-versed in the ins
and outs of labour and left-wing politics in the early twentieth
century might well find it hard going keeping up with all the
different groups and personalities. McNulty does a good job in
establishing who they were and what they stood for, though this in
itself can occasionally lead to the main character in the book –
James Connolly – appearing to disappear from its pages. A little
more about him as a man might have been useful. And, though he’s
referred to as a Marxist, I did wonder just what he had read in that
line? There wasn’t a great deal available in English in the 1890s.
McNulty does mention a translation of Marx’s
Wage-Labour and Capital
as having a “wide impact”. This was, presumably, something that
Connolly would have come across? More material may have been
available by the early-1900s.
Connolly’s experiences working with the IWW certainly influenced his
later activities when he was back in Dublin. In 1909 Jim Larkin had
formed the Irish Transport and General Workers Union (ITGWU),
designed to recruit to its ranks workers ignored by craft unions:
dockers, transport employees of various kinds, labourers,
essentially all those usually classified as unskilled. It was a
militant organisation, with syndicalism at its heart, at least among
activists. There’s a point here about syndicalism that’s worth
noting. Did it have much of an appeal to many union members? In my
experience (including a stint as a British TGWU workplace
representative) most people join unions for matters relating to pay
and conditions. Theories of syndicalism or industrial unionism pass
them by. I’m reminded of a militant shop steward I knew many years
ago. He was a skilled electrician, proud of his craft, and active in
his union. He also voted Conservative in both local and national
elections.
Connolly worked with Larkin as matters moved towards what became
known as the Dublin Lockout of 1913/14. This wasn’t an isolated
event, and there had been a wave of strikes in 1911 in ports, in the
mines, on the railways, and elsewhere, across Britain. Armed police
and troops had been called out more than once, and in an incident,
enshrined in labour history, two railwaymen had been shot dead in
Llanelli in Wales. Two men also died in Liverpool when troops fired
on rioters. In Dublin Larkin and the ITGWU were looked on as a
potential threat by employers and the city authorities.
Liberty Hall, the headquarters of the union, was seen as the
centre of resistance by the police who were notoriously brutal in
their treatment of strikers and demonstrators. McNulty refers to
fighting between strikers and police when two men were clubbed to
death by police batons. It isn’t mentioned in McNulty’s book but
James Plunkett’s fine novel,
Strumpet City, published in 1969 is a classic fictional account
of events in Dublin in the period concerned. The strike had turned
into a lockout when employers began to dismiss workers, with the
result that levels of deprivation and poverty, already high at the
best of times in Dublin, noticeably worsened.
It was to counter police aggression that Connolly established the
Irish Citizens Army (ICA) as a defence force to protect union
pickets and demonstrators. The lockout terminated early in 1914 when
a drift back to work began. Workers were re-employed after signing
agreements that they would not belong to the ITGWU. Known activists
were not rehired. The events of 1913/14 need a book in themselves
and I’ve given only a sketchy account of what happened. Connolly had
been a leading figure operating out of Liberty Hall and when Larkin,
disillusioned by the failure of the strike and the lack of support
from the British Trades Union Congress (TUC), left for America,
Connolly took over. Circumstances were soon to push him into the
final phase of his life.
The outbreak of war in 1914 put paid to expectations of Home Rule
for Ireland. Not that it had been assured, anyway. The Northern
Protestant establishment had formed the Ulster Volunteer Force
(UVF), a well-armed paramilitary organisation determined to oppose,
by force if necessary, any attempt to submit them to rule from
Dublin. A similar outfit, the Irish Volunteer Force (IVF), came into
being in the South in expectation of conflict between the two parts
of Ireland. The war put the dispute on hold. John Redmond, leader of
the IVF, encouraged his followers to support Britain, though not all
of them agreed with him. And conscription, even when introduced in
Britain in 1916, did not initially apply to Ireland, though an
attempt was made in 1918 to extend it there. It was met with fierce
opposition from various quarters, including the Catholic Church, so
nothing came of it. But numerous individual Irishmen, both
Protestant and Catholic had voluntarily enlisted in the British
Army.
However, not all Irishmen
supported Britain. Connolly was outspoken in his hopes for a German
victory, seeing in it an opportunity to launch a campaign for an
independent Ireland. He even talked of welcoming an invasion by
German troops which, he thought, might provide a situation where the
link to the British Empire would be broken. Did he really think that
was likely to happen? Like some others he did perceive British
preoccupation with war on the Continent as constituting a situation
where a rising in Ireland might succeed. It’s difficult to know how
certain he was that such a scheme could be put into operation. He
had his small Irish Citizens Army at his disposal and could count on
some elements of the IVF for support. There were also members of the
militant Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB) willing to join in an
armed insurrection.
When it started on Easter Monday, 1916 it was obvious that it was
doomed to failure. Nothing had gone right. An arms shipment from
Germany had been intercepted by the Royal Navy. Orders for IVF
members to turn out had been countermanded. It’s calculated that
around 1,500 rebels were involved in the Rising in Dublin. Connolly
led his small army into the Post Office in Dublin where they, and
others, held out until forced to surrender by superior British
forces. All this and more has been documented in books, films, and
TV documentaries. And
what happened next, when the British took the decision to court
martial and execute the leaders of the rising including Connolly,
did eventually contribute to the struggle for Irish independence.
Many citizens of Dublin had thought the rising ill-advised, but the
killings appalled them. The circumstances of Connolly’s execution,
when doctors said he was not expected to live for more than a day or
two anyway, were seen as particularly repulsive. The picture of a
wounded and dying man being tied to a chair (some accounts say a
crate) so he could be shot by a firing squad was not a pleasant one.
It’s interesting to speculate on what went through Connolly’s mind
before he took his men into the Dublin GPO. He’s reputed to have
told William O’Brien, a founder with Connolly and Jim Larkin of the
Irish Labour Party in 1912, “We are going out to be slaughtered”,
and when asked if there any chance of success replied, “None
whatsoever”. He was not inclined like the romantic idealist Patrick
Pearse to write about “blood sacrifices” and that “the old heart of
the earth needed to be warmed with the red wine of the
battlefields”. To statements such as that, Connolly said: “No! We do
not believe that war is glorious, inspiring, or regenerating”. His
reasons for involving himself in the Rising may have been complex.
He had been badly disillusioned when the workers of the world went
off to kill each other in 1914. He had placed his faith in the
notion that they would come together, oppose the war, and overthrow
those who promoted it. Was
he naïve to believe this? I’m perhaps wrong, but he does sometimes
seem to have persuaded himself that because he saw the logic in a
grand scheme others would too. It does occur to me to suggest that,
because of the manner in which Connolly had envisaged an armed
insurrection, he had to take part in one no matter how mistimed and
badly planned it was. Had he failed to come forward his reputation
as a revolutionary, and an Irish nationalist, would have suffered a
serious blow. His fate was sealed by the wider situation he found
himself involved in.
Politically, he failed to understand why the Protestant
working-class in Ireland were wary of Home Rule or any situation
where they would be in a minority and governed by a Catholic
majority. Likewise, he surely must have realised that not every
working-class union member was a potential revolutionary. They were
not likely to go on the barricades simply because he thought they
ought to. I can’t help thinking that he reminds me of people I’ve
known who have lives largely divorced from the routines of
factories, offices, and everyday living and are consequently
out-of-touch with how ordinary workers think and what makes them act
in certain ways. Most people concern themselves with practicalities
and not with theories.
James Connolly: Socialist, Nationalist & Internationalist
is a stimulating book on several levels, though not without some
drawbacks. Not much of Connolly as a person comes through and, as a
consequence, we sometimes have the impression that he had little
life beyond the wheelings and dealings of all those groups (many of
which I haven’t had the time to mention), he joined and left. He
wrote pamphlets and books, some of which were, in their day, widely
read, at least among those of a similar frame of mind to himself.
His Socialism Made Easy
was popular, and Labour in
Irish History made its mark. There are reprints of his
publications easily available. I don’t know if much of the poetry
and fiction he produced had staying power.
There isn’t a bibliography, but there are numerous notes which
provide a reading list. I spotted a scattering of typos (Ernest
Belfort Bax becomes Ernest Belford Bax at one point, for example)
but they’re minor enough not to be intrusive.
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