Youths who, like Griffith, spoke of republicanism echoed the example of the would-be constitutional revolts in Europe during 1848. However, the combination of the common law traditions of other English-speaking countries, such as the British colonies and the federal republic of the United States, reinforced the perception in Ireland and Britain that such radicalisms were best equated (at least outside of the American republic) with the potentially anarchical concept of democracy. For instance, in an act of defence against the European liberal or republican tradition of thought, the United Kingdom referred to itself as a ‘liberal constitutional monarchy’. This was done to indicate that a common law country, with a monarchy, could be both ‘constitutional’ and ‘liberal’ without necessarily having to be ‘a republic’ with its own definitive written constitution or civil code. What did this ‘liberal constitutional monarchy’ idea mean in Ireland? Although some spoke in Ireland about republicanism, it was generally perceived that the common law tradition, to which the churches held very dearly, was too deeply rooted and popular in Ireland to ever become uprooted. For this very reason, Griffith’s moderation of his republican views by espousing during 1904 the idea of an Anglo-Irish dual monarchy, akin to the situation in the Austro-Hungarian Empire, was understood by many to be both a practicable and a progressive idea. This legalistic issue of common law traditions versus republican civil codes has remained a constant feature of European political life ever since Napoleon, including the current-day relationship between the constitutions (written or unwritten) of various modern nation-states and the European Union.
In terms of national governance, alongside the issue of constitutions lay the question of finance. An issue that became of paramount concern to Irish contemporaries during Griffith’s lifetime, even more so than during the lifetime of O’Connell, related to the financing of social services, particularly education and health. These issues greatly preoccupied the churches, especially a rapidly growing Catholic Church that was only in the process of re-establishing its authority in Ireland. The former question of education had certainly acquired greater connotations, however, as the traditional role of aristocrats in politics, business and government began to crumble upon the expansions of the civil service, local government and the electorate in the United Kingdom during the 1880s. The focus of education had now changed to facilitate a greater professionalisation of society.8 Reflecting this, the prospect of an imperial civil service career now became as enticing to many in Ireland as in the rest of the United Kingdom. This development encouraged a greater Irish acceptance of British state centralisation ever since the 1820s in terms of the management of Irish finances and resistance to this development was actually limited. Nevertheless, Griffith would make this goal his abiding preoccupation in political debate. This is precisely what ultimately made him, as well as the issue of an Irish nationalism, a subject of great controversy.
What is now termed as ‘globalisation’ essentially refers to the development of a situation ever since the 1950s whereby many financial institutions and, in turn, major businesses have ceased to be based exclusively within specific nation-states. In virtually all countries, few banks or major businesses are not partly owned by banks or businesses in other countries. States now compete with each other by regulating competing taxation systems for business far more so than by the creation of international trade walls, while stock exchanges operate far more on the basis of the exchange rate for each international currency than specifically the exchange rate for a national currency. Matters were very different in Griffith’s day. What might be termed as an economic nationalism was at the root of each state’s self-interest, while each state also invariably had its own national bank. Griffith applied these concepts to Ireland and as a leader of Dáil Eireann between 1919 and 1922 he sought to win greater public acceptance of them in the wake of the introduction of American investment in Europe during 1918. This same trend of American investment in Europe may be said to have ultimately caused the ‘globalisation’ phenomenon born during the 1950s, although in Griffith’s day it was a process that was only just beginning and it was not seen to have quite the same significant political connotations as it is supposed to have had in recent decades.9
Griffith and his colleagues were a people who protested that the small nations of Europe had the potential to make distinct contributions to European life and become viable political entities (‘nation states’) in their own right; principles that would ultimately become widely accepted internationally. This was done at a time when English debates on the proverbial British constitution (an unwritten and, therefore, not a republican constitution) essentially fell into the realm of a different field of analysis or debate. However, if Griffith was a great dissenter from accepted British norms even those in Ireland who favoured a continued connection with the United Kingdom held very dissenting opinions from the English majority and this, in turn, formed the context for a specifically Irish debate. Beyond that debate, Griffith’s life cannot essentially be understood. The challenge for Griffith’s biographer, therefore, is to address the fact that the precepts upon which the study of the political history of modern Ireland is based not only require a combination of a localised and a British imperial focus but also an analysis of the debates upon the concept of the nation-state that existed internationally throughout his lifetime.
If the birth of an Irish government during the twentieth century represented a new beginning it will be suggested in this book that it also reflected a deeper continuity in Irish life. Like many of his colleagues, or contemporaries, Griffith represented a particularly Irish response to the debates of the long nineteenth century. The answers they came up with provide a fascinating window into how the history of Ireland before and after the First World War not only met but also represented a greater continuity in modern history as a whole. Along with the remarkable social history connotations of Griffith’s life—he was a quintessentially working-class figure who nevertheless died while virtually a head of government—this is what makes Griffith’s life both a fascinating story in its own right and perhaps the greatest window available into the dynamics of what has, rightly or wrongly, been termed as an Irish revolution. The dynamics of Griffith’s career also represented a longstanding debate within Ireland regarding the respective merits of state-centered or Christian-democratic solutions to the problems that modern political societies face within the context of common law traditions. In itself, this debate became the touchstone of both modern Irish nationalism and constitutional thought.
CHAPTER ONE
The Dubliner and Independent Nationalist (1871–96)
Arthur Griffith was a proud Dubliner all his life. He was born on 31 March 1871 into a working-class family in the city centre. In his youth, he rejoiced in learning intricate details of the city’s history and its most colourful characters.1 He also desired ‘the cultivation of a Dublin literature’.2 Ireland’s deposed capital was once known as the second city of the British Empire. To Griffith’s dismay, however, it lost its eighteenth-century grandeur under the Union. Deserted by its wealthiest inhabitants, by the 1870s Dublin city centre had become notorious for slums that were inhabited by a poor and unhealthy work force. The Griffiths were well aware of the peculiar reasons for this development and the decline of numerous city businesses and trades.3 Nevertheless, they were one of very many Dublin families that remained locked into a downward economic spiral. During Griffith’s childhood, his parents and grandparents lived in slum districts where disease and prostitution were rampant, while some close relatives spent much time in the dreaded workhouses.4 Arthur was the third of five children in a family where the first had to emigrate in his mid teens and the second would die as a young adult from a poverty-induced disease.5 Arthur, known as ‘Dan’ to his closest friends, was the next in line and had no greater prospects. With this socially insecure background, Griffith grew up as a very shy and private man. The reserved demeanour and caustic pen he would exhibit frequently in adulthood was undoubtedly shaped partly by the wounded pride and social frustration of his family.
Griffith’s father, Arthur