Over the last few years, there has been an alarming increase in anti-immigration sentiment across Europe. Increasingly negative media coverage of migrants has created a hostile environment for immigrants in their new host societies. Watching this rising tide of hostility toward immigrants, I had always assumed that Ireland’s history of migration meant that, as a nation, we Irish would be different – and more accepting.

More than eight million Irish men and women emigrated from the island to resettle in other countries in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. But rapid economic growth during the Celtic Tiger era (1995-2007) reversed this historical pattern, and Ireland saw for the first time substantive immigration.

 One legacy of the period was that Irish society became, in Bryan Fanning’s words, “a multi-ethnic society with a large permanent immigrant population.”1

At the same time, another development was a growing tendency to divide the population into an “Irish” us versus a “non- Irish” them.

A 2004 Referendum on Citizenship reflected rising anti-immigration sentiment: an overwhelming majority voted to revoke birthright citizenship and limit naturalization to those with Irish ancestry.2

The poll opened up a conversation about the concept of Irishness, race, and belonging in contemporary Ireland. Yet twenty years after the 2004 Referendum, second generation migrants like me, a Rwandese-Irish person, must prove our Irishness constantly.

Who Counts as ‘Irish’ in Contemporary Ireland?

I moved to Ireland in 2006 at the age of 10, two years after the 2004 Referendum. Growing up in Ireland with a hybrid identity—Rwandese and Irish—meant that I was always conscious of my dual identity, even as I considered myself Irish. Yet, new immigrants like me confront numerous challenges in being fully accepted as Irish citizens. Racism and anti-immigration politics have gotten worse in Ireland.

An enduring colonial ghost plays a significant role. Without a connection to Ireland’s colonial past and a collective sense of victimhood at the hands of the English, newcomers are not necessarily accepted as Irish citizens.3

Moreover, there is a politicisation of the Irish language (Gaeilge). Many Irish people contend that to be truly Irish, you must speak the language. Such views create further divisions regarding who gets to be Irish—without fully taking into account how belonging and identity are multifaceted.

Even the existence of racism in Irish society is still much debated and denied. To those who refuse to acknowledge that it plays a significant role in Irish life, racism and controversies surrounding the Black Lives Matter movement as well as the resurgence of white supremacy in the U.S. are all used to argue that racist politics happen over “there” and not “here.”

Such denialism ignores a lengthy history of racism in Ireland. Irish sociologists James Carr and Amanda Haynes have looked at the long history of racialization in Ireland highlighting British colonial practices that saw the racialization of Irish people as “savages.” Colonial practices in Ireland laid the foundations of the historical construction of Irishness. Interestingly, Carr and Haynes point towards the colonial encounter in Irish history as a paradoxical moment. The Irish are all too familiar with the concept of being racialized and placed in the fixed category of ‘inferior’ and ‘oppressed.’

Throughout history there are instances where Irish emigrated to places like the United Kingdom and the United States where they were subjected to racialization. Across London in the 1950s, there were famous slogans like ‘No Irish, No Blacks, No Dogs.’

I once looked at this slogan through the lens of a colonial history shared with other African nations that were targets of cruel British colonial practices. Although the slogan points towards this common past, it is also used to claim Irish people cannot be racist since they, too, have a history of being racialised.

In 2020, when the Black Lives Matter movement emerged in Ireland, and anti-racist activists like myself started pointing out the different types of racism that were normalised in Irish society, social media users were quick to use this line of argument to explain how Ireland could not be racist.

Originally intended to legitimize the English subjugation of Ireland, categorizing the Irish as a wholly distinct racial group has taken on new meaning as a way to establish the supremacy of “native-born” and white Irish.

Carr and Haynes argue that a “narrowly defined Irishness continues to inform micro-practices of racism and exclusion in contemporary Ireland.4

However much the “Celtic Tiger” phenomenon troubled this notion of Irishness as being only white, thus disrupting this historical and politicised racialisation of Irish identity, individuals who do not ‘look’ Irish are made to feel like they do not fit into Irish society.5

At the same time, the slogan ‘No Irish, No Blacks, No Dogs’  reveals the irony of anti-immigration rhetoric in Ireland: why is it acceptable for Irish people to emigrate to places like England, America, and Australia, yet we cannot accept immigrants coming into Ireland? Who gets to decide what form of migration and emigration is acceptable? Why are we still debating whether racism is an issue in Ireland, when community members from marginalized communities like Irish Travellers have been speaking out against their discrimination for years? Most importantly, why do we as a society still dictate who fits into an outdated view of what constitutes Irishness?

Many reactions to the growing presence of different migrant communities in Ireland have reflected the view that diversity and multiculturalism are a threat to historical notions of Irishness and national belonging. In Black Skin, White Masks, Frantz Fanon talks about the relationality of Blackness. In simpler terms, he explores the complexity of the objectification of black bodies and the ontology of the being of black individuals in predominantly white societies. Fanon writes, “In the white world, the man of color encounters difficulties in the development of his bodily schema.

Consciousness of the body is solely a negating activity. It is a third-person consciousness.”6

Fanon was attuned to the hyper-awareness that the black body possesses in a predominately white society. This self-awareness of the relationship between the black body and the world is visible in Ireland.

There remains an unwritten understanding of how, when I walk into specific spaces, I become hyper-aware of how often I might be the only Black person there. Through this realization, I enter what Fanon calls ‘third-person consciousness,’ where I prepare myself for questions such as, ‘Where are you from?’ When I answer Carlow (a county in Ireland), I am immediately asked, ‘Where are you actually from?’

The second question of ‘actually’ reminds me that, because of my hybrid identity of being Rwandese-Irish, I have to time and again ‘prove’ that I am Irish. In these instances, I am reminded of the historical notions of Irishness and its link to whiteness. Immediately, my Blackness is something that becomes used against my claim to Irishness, as there is still disbelief that second-generation migrants like me are Irish.

Questions such as, ‘Where are you actually from?’ acknowledge the growing presence of multiculturalism in Ireland while simultaneously reminding individuals of how their ethnicity and national origin prevent them from being considered ‘fully Irish.’

The Far Right and Anti-immigration Politics

The growing controversy surrounding who gets to be Irish was visible in the Dublin riots that took place on November 23, 2023. The riots took place after three children and an adult were attacked in Dublin, where there was an immediate social media frenzy over the nationality of the attacker. On social media, questions of whether the attacker was ‘Irish’ or an ‘Asylum Seeker’ quickly circulated online, inflaming members of the public drawn to the notion that Ireland was ‘full.’ The Guardian journalist Stephen McDermott reported “that the perpetrator was an immigrant to Ireland poured fuel on the fire (it’s since been reported that although the suspect is Algerian born, he is a naturalized Irish citizen who has lived here for two decades).”

Given mounting tensions spurred by the far right, the chaos that unfolded in Ireland had been brewing for years. It did not surprise members of marginalized communities who had been anticipating something like this happening.

Far-right groups used the Dublin riots to justify anti-immigration sentiment, relying on misinformation and anti-Muslim rhetoric to spread fear and hate on social media platforms. Such groups refused to acknowledge that the attacker had a hybrid identity, Algerian and Irish.

I distinctly remember the anxiety I had when I went on social media and saw speculation about whether the attacker was Irish or not. Seeing the violence unfold in Dublin will stick with me for a long time. Watching the spread of hate revealed how, in Ireland, we still have a long way to go to address anti-immigration sentiment and racism. Specifically, the immediate desire to determine whether the Dublin perpetrator was Irish revealed the seriousness of the situation. On social media, once it was revealed that the attacker was, in fact, Irish, there were debates about how long he had been an Irish citizen, and whether he fully integrated into Irish society. Seeing these types of debates on social media made me hyper-aware of my dual identity. I started wondering at what point someone ‘truly’ becomes viewed as Irish.

Media coverage of the riots were revealing. The media focused on the dichotomy of ethnicity and nationality: they wanted to make certain that the world knew the attacker was Algerian first—and only Irish through naturalisation. Such reporting erased the attacker’s ‘Irishness’ and solely focused on the fact that his place of origin was Algeria. For their part, the far-right turned to stoking fear, insisting that such violence would happen when refugees and asylum seekers are permitted to enter Ireland. The Dublin case offered a pretext to spread misinformation about refugees and asylum seekers in general.

However, it also became an opportunity to open the outdated debate about who gets to be Irish. It revealed how in contemporary Ireland there is still difficulty in understanding and accepting people with hybrid identities as Irish.

The Dublin riots also spearheaded the spread of the hashtag ‘#Ireland is full,’ which has since spread like wildfire on social media. People began outwardly speaking out against the presence of marginalized communities in Ireland. Moreover, while protests against the placement of refugees and asylum seekers in particular areas did occur before the Dublin riots, but they have now become commonplace. This spread of hate is something that continues to grow, and asylum seekers, refugees and people who do not look ‘visibly’ Irish are continuously on edge, waiting for protests to break out in their counties at any given moment.

There is a lack of understanding about how refugees and asylum seekers are used as scapegoats to address issues like the housing crisis or the rise of the far-right in Ireland. McDermott argues, “It is frustrating for factcheckers and others who observe the far right to have to keep fighting the deluge of misinformation that crops up as a result, and to see the far right continue to build off the back of it.”

The spread of hate and the violence that ensued proved that the rise of the far right in Ireland was no longer something that may be brushed aside as ‘harmless’ or not severe. There was now a need to address the anti-immigration sentiment. In Ireland, the size and influence of the far right is small in comparison to the rest of the world. In the recent Irish local and European elections held in June 2024, Cormac O’Keeffe noted that, “of the 949 local authority seats, the far-right took only four of them- albeit from a starting point of zero.” Although it was only four seats, this win taps into the potentiality of a growth in support of the far-right for years to come.

In the last few months, the anti-immigration rhetoric has intensified—and even inspired the burning of makeshift refugee camps and hotels meant to accommodate refugees in places like Coolock in July 2024. The continued spread of misinformation and the growing hatred against the visible presence of refugees and asylum seekers reveal that this is a complex issue that must be addressed.

One way this issue may be addressed is by acknowledging that the rise of the far right also impacts Irish society more broadly. The continued spread of ‘us’ versus ‘them’ rhetoric when discussing issues such as accessibility to housing and health care amenities is only one way it does so. International Protection Applicants continue to be used as a scapegoat instead used to obfuscate how the lack of amenities and public services results from government failure. An inability to take such issues seriously will cause further division across different counties and communities across Ireland. More importantly, this type of hostility serves as a sad reminder that Irish people have forgotten that we too have a history of being targeted by anti-Irish hate.

Who Gets to be Irish on the World Stage

The rise of the far right in Ireland and the spread of misinformation online has normalised the policing of who gets to be Irish on the world stage. In the 2024 Paris Olympics, there were incidents of racism against Dublin-born Rashidat Adeleke, who represented Ireland in track and field. Online abuse against Adeleke focused on how Adeleke, as a black person, was not suitable to represent Ireland. Online trolls refused to view her as Irish. Adeleke was put face to face with her race, where the online abuse focused on her blackness and rejected the idea that to be Irish no longer meant that one had to be solely white. The online trolls took it upon themselves to decide that Adeleke’s blackness prevented her from being ‘Irish.’

Instances of racist abuse against Afro-Irish people like Adeleke are no longer surprising. Instead, this type of abuse, points out how Ireland needs a wake-up call to bring in legislation to protect racialized communities. The online attack against Adeleke reflects, according to Jade Wilson, “signs of increased racism and an underlying hostility toward Ireland becoming a more diverse society.” Instead of multiculturalism being seen as something that is beautiful or something that should be celebrated, it instead becomes framed as a threat to Irish national identity.

The hatred of a multicultural Ireland creates a widespread level of fear and uncertainty amongst racialized communities who are constantly on the edge, waiting to be a target of racial abuse. It is no longer acceptable for people like Adeleke, who are representing Ireland on a global stage, to accept this level of racist abuse just because they are public figures. This type of thinking allows the continuation of racist abuse and may also prove to be harmful for the young generation of Afro-Irish children who grow up in an Irish society that normalises such treatment.

In the wake of the online racist abuse against Adeleke, much of the public rallied behind her and started to call out racism. This level of support provided a glimmer of hope that this racist rhetoric was not representative of everyone in Ireland—and that the racist tweets and hatred online only represented a small minority in Ireland.

Taoiseach (Prime Minister) Simon Harris showed his support by stating, “You are Ireland and Ireland could not be more proud of you.” Harris’s comments restated the importance of showing how being Irish is multifaceted and no longer homogenous. Adeleke represents a new generation of Afro-Irish individuals, showing the beauty of multiculturalism, and how far Ireland has come as a nation. As an Afro-Irish person, seeing someone like Adeleke represent Ireland was extremely beautiful and moving. She made me feel proud of my dual identity.

What Now?

While writing this essay, I am hopeful that in Ireland there will be a time when individuals will feel a sense of belonging and acceptance regardless of their ethnicity or place of origin. The growing presence of far-right and anti-immigration rhetoric across the world, in particular in Ireland, should become a wake-up call to understand the need to address anti-immigration politics and the rise in racism now before we reach a more hostile space. In order to address these growing issues, there is a need to remember the role of migration in earlier periods of Irish history such as during and after the Great Famine and to recall the racialisation of Irish people abroad. This shared history should make us stop and think twice before chanting ‘Ireland is full.’ The historic notion of Irishness needs to be restructured and rethought to facilitate the integration of different generations of migrants who still have to navigate what it ‘means’ to be Irish.

 

 

Sandrine Uwase Ndahiro is an early career researcher. Her research employs theoretical frameworks associated with the field of postcolonial studies to read the environmental crisis unfolding in Africa using literature and art from an Africanist cultural perspective. She is the recipient of a prestigious Irish Research Council postgraduate scholarship 2022-2023. She has published book chapters on the topic of Black Irish culture, and Black environmentalism.

 

 

References

Carr, James & Haynes, Amanda. “A clash of racializations: The policing of race and anti-Muslim racism in Ireland.” Critical Sociology, vol.41, no.1, 2013, pp. 21-40.

Fanning, Bryan. “Immigration, the Celtic Tiger and the economic crisis.” Irish Studies Review, vol.24, no.1, 2016, pp.9-20.

Fanon, Frantz. Black Skin, White Masks. London: Pluto, 1986.

O’Keefe, Cormac. “Far right’s success cannot be measured just in seats gained.” Irish Examiner, 14 June 2024.

McDermott, Stephen. “The Dublin riots shocked Ireland- but some of us saw this creep to the far right coming.” The Guardian, 27 Nov 2023.

Ndahiro, Sandrine. “Black Irish Culture.” Austerity and Irish Women’s Writing and Culture, 1980-2020, edited by Deidre Flynn and Ciara L. Murphy. Oxfordshire: Routledge, 2022.

Wilson, Jade. “Online racist abuse of sprinter Rhasidat Adeleke widely condemned. ” The Irish Times, 16 June 2024.