Tiger, tiger, burning bright

Tiger, tiger, burning bright

Samuel Beckett Bridge, Dublin • Photo by Saad Chaudhry on Unsplash

Originally published 10 July 2005

A lit­tle over a week ago [in 2005], Thomas Fried­man had two op-ed columns in The New York Times about the Irish eco­nom­ic mir­a­cle, some­times called the “Celtic Tiger.” He sang the prais­es of Irish social and eco­nom­ic pol­i­cy, and sug­gest­ed that the rest of the world should take notice.

It has been just a decade since Fried­man’s Irish coun­ter­part, Irish Times colum­nist Fin­tan O’Toole, pub­lished a book called Black Hole, Green Card: The Dis­ap­pear­ance of Ire­land. “Green card,” of course, referred to emi­gra­tion, just about the only option then avail­able for young Irish peo­ple, espe­cial­ly those with col­lege degrees. “Black hole” referred to the Irish econ­o­my of a decade ago, a place where prof­its and jobs van­ished with­out a trace.

Today, a blink of the eye lat­er, Ire­land is the sec­ond rich­est coun­try in Europe, after Lux­em­bourg, with a gross domes­tic prod­uct per capi­ta greater than Ger­many, France, or Britain. Even the Irish are a lit­tle bewil­dered by the alacrity with which they went from being one of the poor­est nations in the Europe to one of the richest.

Fried­man puts his fin­ger on good rea­sons why the “mir­a­cle” happened:

Free, or almost free, qual­i­ty edu­ca­tion, right through third lev­el. An Amer­i­can stu­dent would be bog­gled by the exams an Irish kid must take to win a place at uni­ver­si­ty; they make the SATs look like child’s play. Even I would have dif­fi­cul­ty with the math and sci­ence, and you should see the geog­ra­phy exam. Every Irish kid with the tal­ent and the spunk can get a top­notch edu­ca­tion with­out par­ents going into hock up to their eyeballs.

Respect for sci­ence. From here, in the so-called “land of the lep­rechauns,” Amer­i­ca seems awash in super­sti­tion — cre­ation­ism, astrol­o­gy, health fads, Left Behind nov­els, pseu­do­sciences. The Irish are a peo­ple with their eye on the ball. Ire­land intends to dou­ble the num­ber of PhDs in sci­ence and engi­neer­ing by 2010, and the young peo­ple I’ve met are ready and will­ing to take up the challenge.

An enthu­si­as­tic embrace of glob­al­iza­tion, and not just eco­nom­ic glob­al­iza­tion. Yes, the Irish wel­come the glob­al mar­ket­place and have thrived on it. They are not afraid to open their doors to brainy sci­en­tists and engi­neers from abroad, espe­cial­ly Chi­na. Fried­man quotes Ire­land’s Min­is­ter for Edu­ca­tion, Mary Hanafin: “It is good for our own qual­i­ty stu­dents to be mix­ing with qual­i­ty stu­dents from abroad.” But the Irish are also more gen­er­ous in per­son­al com­mit­ment to third world devel­op­ment than are Amer­i­cans. They are a bit abashed by their new wealth and will­ing to share it.

There is anoth­er fac­tor that Fried­man did­n’t men­tion: sec­u­lar­iza­tion.

What held back Ire­land’s poten­tial for so long was the pow­er of an entrenched theoc­ra­cy, as rep­re­sent­ed, for exam­ple, by the reac­tionary arch­bish­op of Dublin, John Charles McQuaid, who ruled Ire­land with an iron fist from 1940 to 1971. Even such pow­er­ful polit­i­cal lead­ers as Eamon de Valera cur­ried McQuaid’s favor.

For McQuaid and oth­ers in the Irish hier­ar­chy, the only source of truth was Holy Moth­er Church, and woe betide any Irish Catholic, lay or reli­gious, who got out of line; the ham­mer of ortho­doxy came down with swift and bru­tal force.

McQuaid’s great buga­boos were “sci­en­tif­ic human­ism” and “sec­u­lar democ­ra­cy.” Irish schools were almost entire­ly in the hands of the Church, and sci­en­tif­ic research was more or less an under­ground activ­i­ty. Bet­ter to be poor and igno­rant than burn in hell, McQuaid might have said, but I would guess it was most­ly about pow­er, as theoc­ra­cies usu­al­ly are.

All of that went out the win­dow in Ire­land dur­ing the late-1980s and ear­ly-1990s. A dev­as­tat­ing series of sex and abuse scan­dals involv­ing the cler­gy was part of it, but I think what we real­ly wit­nessed was a rev­o­lu­tion from below, by a peo­ple who were not as igno­rant as the Church would have liked, and who were bloody tired of being poor. Hell­fire had become an emp­ty threat. I sus­pect a lot more Amer­i­cans today believe in hell than do the Irish.

When the dam of reli­gious oppres­sion broke it was as if cen­turies of sup­pressed joy and cre­ativ­i­ty were released. The aya­tol­lahs of the Irish Church now lit­tle more than a drea­ry mem­o­ry and sci­ence and tech­nol­o­gy are in the ascendancy.

And, of course, with intel­lec­tu­al free­dom and pros­per­i­ty came a cul­tur­al renais­sance too. The arts and lit­er­a­ture flour­ish. Music and flow­ers are every­where. Lit­ter is van­ish­ing. Envi­ron­men­tal pro­tec­tions are being put in place. Unem­ploy­ment is vir­tu­al­ly nonex­is­tent. Health care is avail­able to all. Senior cit­i­zens ride pub­lic trans­port free. And those of us who watched the Irish eco­nom­ic and social rev­o­lu­tion won­der why Amer­i­ca is drift­ing in exact­ly the oppo­site direction.

A let­ter writer to the Times, a young Amer­i­can liv­ing in Cork, dis­agreed with Fried­man. With glob­al­iza­tion the Irish have lost what makes them unique, he wrote. Well, yes, if liv­ing in a warm, dry, mod­ern house, dri­ving a Lexus, grow­ing up with all your teeth, and not liv­ing in fear of hell fire means los­ing your “unique­ness,” then I sus­pect most Irish peo­ple are quite hap­py the ride the Celtic tiger.

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