In 1912, Irish journalist and Gaeilgeoir (Irish language speaker), Piaras Béaslaí, called in on Tom Clarke at his tobacco shop on Dublin’s Parnell Street. Béaslaí found Clarke seated very much like he had been as a prisoner, upright, gazing into the distance, his hands on his knees, his expression barely wavering.
Considering Clarke’s past experiences, it was a considerable feat for him to be there at all. From 1883 to 1898, Clarke had been incarcerated in English prisons, being found guilty of treason-felony following his involvement in a bombing attack in England on behalf of the Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB). Established in 1858, the IRB was a covert organisation based in Ireland that pledged to the establishment of democratic Irish republic through armed resistance. It had a sister organisation in America known as the Fenian Brotherhood, which later became Clan na Gael.
The lion’s share of Clarke’s imprisonment was spent in Chatham prison, where he suffered through a cruel regimen of strenuous labour and compelled silence in an environment likened to a “living tomb”. Despite such testing circumstances, Clarke’s mental fortitude worked to his favour and he survived all the way through to 1916, only to be executed at the age of 59, having the dubious honour of being the oldest and first signatory of the 1916 Proclamation.
Upon his death, Clarke was at peace being a strong supporter of the IRB. As he informed his wife, Kathleen, before his execution, he was “more satisfied than for many a day”. Such a dominant character like Clarke exerted great influence on the separatist movement during the years preceding the Rising. Béaslaí was one of such influenced individuals, belonging to the Teeling circle of the IRB, which included the likes of Cathal Brugha, Seán MacDiarmada and Bulmer Hobson. These men, predominantly male, shared IRB membership but had disparate perspectives on the methods and timing to achieve an independent Ireland. Their paths diverged, disagreements occurred, and those who survived offered differing narratives, thus making the IRB’s history, shrouded in secrecy, complex and intricate.
Diarmaid Ferriter brings a personal element to the Irish Republican Brotherhood’s narrative from 1914-1924, as elaborately detailed in this dense account. The potency of this book is due to the myriad of narratives it offers – their vibrancy, attention to detail, and the contradictions they entail offer a comprehensive overview of key individuals and strains associated with the Fenian movement. It is not just a testament to history but also reflects a very personal commitment, with the author’s father being a devoted member of the IRB and the IRA.
O’Beirne Ranelagh, an Oxford-educated historian and co-producer of Ireland’s famed television history in the early ’80s, utilised his father’s IRB credentials and connections to gather primary data through interviews with the veterans of the Irish revolution during the early 1970s. More than 100 of these interviews form the basis of this book, which aims to shed light on the inner workings of the organisation.
Despite its rich, multi-layered research and extensive usage of recently declassified sources, the author’s decision to overlook some broader contextual questions raised by fellow IRB historians, as well as a tendency for chronological imbalance and broad-stroke statements, may be noticed by perceptive readers. Despite this, the book is a valuable, comprehensive, and often penetrating look into the IRB, acknowledging the unwavering and militant influence of Fenianism on Irish politics up to 1916, as rightfully pointed out by historian T.W. Moody many years ago. The influence of Fenianism is significantly seen in the Rising of 1916, which was fundamentally its brainchild.
Prominent post-1916 IRB member, Michael Collins, is frequently characterised with high regard, given his distinguished stature. The author proposes that the accomplishments and failures of the IRB were largely derived from Collins, who presided over the IRB between 1919 and 1921. Collins’ common practice of directly dealing with members at varying hierarchies resulted in reduced consistency and control within the organization, eventually making it reliant on him. The author openly criticises the IRB for its predominant features of fear and revolt, considering it to be the IRB’s present-day inheritance to Ireland. The IRB was also permeated with a sense of moral high-handedness. According to senior member Tom Maguire, in a 1973 interview with O’Beirne Ranelagh, the IRB would uphold the republican tradition whenever everyone else failed.
Irrespective of its high-standing position, the IRB couldn’t withstand the blowback from the Anglo-Irish Treaty and the Civil War between 1921-3. Many of its members were comfortable with compromising, whilst others, as stated by Peadar O’Donnell in 1973, couldn’t adjust to the realities away from the republican ideal.
Larry de Lacy, another member and journalist, analogised the dynamic core of the IRB to a “power cell”. The group worked through a cell-based structure, led by a “centre” and ruled by a partly elected Supreme Council (SC). Following the unwavering yet swiftly suppressed Fenian rebellion of 1867, the IRB obtained a formal constitution in 1873, recognising the SC as the singular governing unit of the Irish republic, in both principle and practice. The IRB often struggled to balance its covert operations with its intention to penetrate and dominate visible organisations including Sinn Féin, the Gaelic League, and the Irish Volunteers (later becoming the IRA), resulting in substantial overlaps amongst these groups.
The claim that it advocated for liberalisation while not demonstrating substantial interest in social problems needs a more extensive explanation, as recalled by Michael Hayes – “an absence of wealthy men within the movement, rather peculiar indeed.” According to the constitution of 1873, it was mandatory to “defer to the judgement of the Irish populace, articulated through the majority, on the appropriate juncture to wage war against England.” The method of quantifying this decision was “given to interpretation,” or more precisely, deferred to the preferences of those leading the Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB), with the constitution stating that the “power of the SC is indisputable.” This stirred unease among some, including Hobson, who was appointed to the SC for Leinster, and did not take part in the events of 1916.
Revived in the early 20th century, the IRB’s military committee was operational from 1915, and the 1916 Proclamation was largely an IRB text. Patrick Pearse, who joined the group late in 1913, epitomised many of the future challenges the IRB would face. As he saw it, with the 1916 Uprising, “we will rescue the nation’s soul” while the more politically inclined, such as Eoin Mac Neill, the Irish Volunteers’ chief of staff, who opposed the Uprising, “will safeguard the body. The body will react once the soul is rejuvenated”.
The conundrum of body versus soul was never solved by the IRB. By 1917’s end, approximately 350 IRB circles had formed with a membership of around 3,000 to 4,000 members, but attempts to control both the Dáil and the IRA after the event were problematic due to various power alliances and loyalties. Denis McCullough, for instance, was of the opinion that the IRB’s main value was its role in spurring the Uprising.
Many IRB members had a cynical opinion of politicians; a reflection of this arrogance was Frank Henderson’s belief that the IRB was crucial in maintaining firm resolve against the potential temptation to “diminish the national objective,” indicative of the desire to play moral judges. However, equally noteworthy, as recounted by Liam Ó Britain, was the sense of duty and obligation that belonging to the IRB fostered, exemplified by their oath to fight.
During the War of Independence, the Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB), despite dominating the Irish Republican Army’s (IRA) executive, were not able to exert as much control over Sinn Féin as they desired. They were bound to the Dáil through an oath. The IRB and the then-Defence Minister for Sinn Féin, Brugha, were at odds. Although it was decided that IRB members could take the oath to the Dáil and accept the Dáil government’s authority, the IRB still asserted their claim to the Republic’s presidency. Éamon de Valera, who had previously left the IRB and was viewed by the author as “overly sentimental”, greatly disliked its covert manoeuvres.
Despite Collins keeping the IRB’s top-ranking officials informed about aspects of the Treaty negotiations and successfully convincing several senior members to support it, not all IRB members were as easily swayed. Within the pro-Treaty TDs, 39 per cent were affiliated with the IRB, compared to 33 per cent within the anti-Treaty TDs. Collins’ attempt at using the IRB to maintain a unified IRA was not successful as by early 1922, the IRB was having difficulty operating on a national scale. In a notable example of the disarray, a new draft constitution for the IRB in July 1922 acknowledged An Saor Stát’s current governmental status but still referred to the SC as the “sole government of the Irish republic”. All the while, Collins relied on his IRB executive associates to helm crucial positions in the new National Army.
Hoping to restructure the IRB into a mechanism through which the IRA could possibly relinquish their firearms, some Free State ministers seemingly dwelt in the realm of optimism. This led to a proposed mutiny amongst the army in 1924, due largely to conflicts of loyalty, which forced Richard Mulcahy, the defence minister at the time, into a very difficult predicament with the already weakened IRB. Furthermore, the task of reconciling the varied army factions, the IRB included, resulted in severe disciplinary issues and rebellious tendencies. In 1924, the IRB was disbanded, having £3,809 (approximately £200,000 in current figures) saved. A portion of this money was intended for a historical account of the organisation to be penned by Seán Ó Muirthuile, a past executive member. In a commendable and detailed effort, O’Beirne Ranelagh has also compiled his version of the story.
Diarmaid Ferriter, Professor of Modern Irish History at UCD, has a new book titled The Revelation of Ireland 1995-2020, due to be published in September by Profile Books.
Further Reading suggestions: This piece responds to Ó’Broin’s Revolutionary Underground: The story of the Irish Republican Brotherhood 1858-1924, a publication highlighting the instability of IRB’s power and the quality of its members, using essential law enforcement records. Vincent Comerford’s The Fenians in Context: Irish Politics and Society, 1848-82 (1985) dispelled the presumption of the Fenians as a symbol of unyielding national pride, instead portraying their appeal as more communal or leisure patriotism. Of late, emerging historians have aimed to expand the tale of Fenianism beyond the significant events of 1867 and 1916, as seen in Owen McGee’s The Irish Republican Brotherhood from the Land League to Sinn Féin (2005) and Matthew Kelly’s The Fenian Ideal and Irish Nationalism (2006). According to Kelly, Fenianism was firmly woven into the fabric of Irish identity in the late part of the 19th century.