Liam Lynch Commemoration

I’m honoured to be here once again for the Liam Lynch Commemoration Ceremony. Today, we remember a courageous soldier, a devoted Irish patriot, and a giant of our history.

Liam Lynch’s impact on Irish freedom was substantial. I am pleased to see so many here today. This gathering is part of a tradition Fianna Fáil has maintained for years, and it is one that I hope will persist into future generations.

Irish people have always rightly taken great pride in honouring the memory of the generation, which faced and overcame the military might of a powerful empire and gave us our own independent state. The bravery and commitment of that generations has laid the foundations for a free and fairer Ireland.

Liam Lynch’s comrade-in-arms and biographer, Florence O’Donoghue, hoped Liam Lynch wouldn’t fade from our memory. One hundred years on from Liam’s death, our presence here carries weight.

Our presence today isn’t just about respect for those who fought for our freedom; it’s about remembering those ordinary individuals in every generation – our parents and grandparents – who believed in an independent Ireland and worked hard to
build up our state and contributed generously to our communities. Their legacy fuels our inspiration.

O’Donoghue wrote, “Men like Liam extend beyond their lifetime. They enrich our conscious sense of Ireland’s soul.”

Liam Lynch was an architect of Ireland’s history and of our national freedom.

He was born just short of 130 years ago, on November 9, 1893, in Barnagurraha, Anglesboro, Co. Limerick. Liam was born into a political family with a strong tradition of standing up to British misrule in Ireland.

His father’s brother had taken part in the Fenian Rising of 1867 and Liam’s mother had been joint secretary of the Ballylanders branch of the Ladies’ Land League.

Liam Lynch’s own early involvement with the Gaelic League, Ancient Order of Hibernians, and the Irish Volunteers foreshadowed his innate political leanings. However, his resolute determination to secure Irish self-determination was forged on Fermoy bridge on 2nd May 1916, when he stood witness to the British garrison leading Thomas Kent to his court martial. The injustice of this moment ignited a fire within him, one that burned brighter with each passing day, propelling him toward the path of revolution.

In the tapestry of history, every nation, regardless of its size, possesses the right to secure or safeguard its freedom. If peaceful means were viable, I believe Lynch would’ve embraced them, but Britain was, at this point, not prepared to listen to Ireland’s legitimate demand for self-determination. This point would be further underscored by Britain’s refusal to take account of the results of the 1918 General Election, which saw a landslide in support for candidates committed to the cause of Irish freedom.

In January 1919 the Volunteer organisation in Cork underwent a major restructuring. Three brigades were established and Liam Lynch became brigade commandant of Cork No. 2. In this role, he played a pivotal part in Ireland’s War of Independence, alongside other stalwart leaders like Tom Barry and Sean Moylan. The Cork brigades, under their leadership, set a remarkable standard of military determination and valour, which gave rise to our freedom.

It is probably hard for any of us, in an Ireland thankfully now long at peace, to imagine the pain and the suffering, the turmoil and the sacrifice experienced by men like Lynch, Barry and Moylan, in seeking to vindicate the Irish people’s right to self-determination.

The intensity of this period and the lasting effects of life on the run is well captured in a brilliant play called Sean Moylan, Irish Revolutionary, which I recently saw in Smock Alley Theatre in Dublin. The play, written and performed by the talented actor Michael Patric is a stark reminder of the suffering experienced and the courage shown to bring about our independence and this is something we should never be complacent about.

Liam Lynch fought because he envisioned an Irish nation thriving under the banner of republicanism, a nation that progressed by embracing its unique identity. As we stand here today, we carry forward that vision, renewing our commitment to Ireland’s progress through unity and dedication.

Just as Lynch and his comrades worked tirelessly to transform their country, so must we continue the legacy of shaping a better Ireland for future generations. Lynch’s life, however, was tragically shortened by the dark spectre of the Civil War, a chapter he had fervently sought to avert.

For Liam Lynch, the treaty was a failure; he wrote: ‘We have declared for an Irish republic and will not live under any other
law.’

Nevertheless, between March and June 1922 Liam Lynch strove to prevent a civil war. He believed unity could be maintained, even under the treaty, if a republican constitution could be enacted; and he cooperated with Michael Collins in promoting IRA activity in Ulster.

It was only after Free State forces – with canons borrowed from the British – shelled the Four Courts that Lynch once again took up arms, though he harboured deep regret over the division among former comrades.

The Civil War cast a shadow over Ireland’s political landscape for a generation or more. Though Lynch was to take on a
leading role on the republican side of the conflict, he stood steadfast against the tide of bitterness and retaliation that was
tragically encompassing Ireland. His respect for former comrades, who now politically and militarily opposed him, remained undiminished.

In an order dated 22nd September 1922, Lynch insisted that though “cold-blooded murders” had been committed by the
Free State against his Republican forces “similar reprisals for these murders cannot under any circumstances be tolerated.”

Lynch’s mourning for the fallen Michael Collins, whom he admired as both a soldier and a man, speaks to the complexities of their shared journey.

Today, one hundred years on from Liam Lynch’s own death, let us not only remember his indomitable spirit and commitment but also reflect on the enduring lessons of his life and times.

In giving honour to his generation, we are now at the end of the Decade of Centenaries, a series of ongoing official and local commemorations which has sought to create new understanding about the tumultuous and formative events that gave rise to our independent state and honours the contribution of all those who sacrificed so much for the cause of Irish freedom.

Taking an inclusive lens to history and how we approach the Irish Civil War is in my view not only the best option but the only
sensible course. I know that some of those who were less enthusiastic about the Decade of Centenaries probably genuinely felt that when it came to the Civil War we should just let sleeping dogs lie. But I don’t agree.

The Civil War is certainly not a time to be celebrated, but I believe it nevertheless must be remembered. For too long, the Civil War was swept under the carpet of history.

This was no doubt influenced by the fact that many of the veterans of the conflict on both sides declined to talk about it, sometimes I suspect, out of deep regret that events got so far out of hand.

In commemorating the Civil War, perhaps, we haven’t seen the same popular enthusiasm we saw in honouring the Easter Rising or the major engagements of the War of Independence, but this does not mean we shouldn’t remember this time and historically explore and interrogate it, especially if we can bring forward new perspectives that help draw lessons from the bitter divisions of that time. I am around long enough to know that denying history, distorting, suppressing or ignoring it is
counterproductive.

I would hope that our mature democracy, in 2023, would view the Civil War no longer in terms of sides, but in terms of lessons. History is important because in trying to chart the future, we have to understand the past.

I do sincerely believe that our Civil War split should never have happened and I also believe that Lloyd George played a
dishonourable role in bringing it about.

He was the Prime Minster who forced Collins and Griffiths to sign the Treaty in 1921 under the threat of “immediate and terrible war,” which was hardly an act of political good faith.

While some revisionists take a jaundiced view of our history and suggest that those, like Liam Lynch, who resolutely opposed the Treaty were unreconstructed militants or poor democrats, I think it should be acknowledged that there were deep felt, sincere and very valid reasons to oppose a Treaty that made Irish sovereignty subservient to British authority.

The great tragedy of the Treaty split was that these deeply held political differences could not be contained within the political arena and that armed conflict ensued. If there is one lesson, we should take from the Civil War, it is the primacy of democratic politics. Armed conflict should never again be allowed to raise its head in Ireland and the only way to resolve political differences is through the power of persuasion, the force of democratic argument and the rule of law.

This entire island will have to confront serious issues in the period ahead. The negative legacy of Brexit, the changing demographics in Northern Ireland, lingering sectarianism and other challenges will all test our resolve in the years ahead, but for Ireland to continue to progress we need to all hold firm in our support for democratic and inclusive politics.

On hearing of Liam Lynch’s death Ernie O’Malley wrote: ‘You who were a living force/Are now a battle cry.’ We are blessed to live on this island in an era which has moved beyond the need for battle cries.

Peace is precious – it has been my life’s work – and my fervent hope for the next generation of politicians on this island is that we consign for ever to the dustbin of history polarised politics so that debate will focus on social, economic and climate issues and securing a better, more prosperous and sustainable future for all our children and grandchildren.