This year’s Nobel Peace Prize was awarded to Japanese disarmament advocates in recognition of their resolve to ensure nuclear weapons are never utilised again, as backed by their harrowing experiences of the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings by the US. The Nobel committee acknowledged this testimony as encapsulating the “inexpressible”.
Half a century back, Nobel laureate Seán MacBride alerted the world to the perilous route of nuclear empowerment chosen by the global powers, during his peace prize lecture in Oslo. He urged them to embark on a journey towards comprehensive disarmament. MacBride, the then UN commissioner for Namibia, under South African apartheid occupation, shared the 1974 peace prize with ex-Japanese premier, Eisaku Sato, both of whom stood against the expansion of mass-destruction weaponry.
Interestingly, the Soviet Union bestowed upon MacBride, a less typical Nobel laureate, the Lenin Peace Prize in 1977, a distinction previously handed to the likes of Pablo Picasso and Fidel Castro. MacBride saw it as a signal of the Soviets’ commitment to halting the arms race, and denounced Nato’s “hawkish generals” who scorned this goal.
MacBride believed the substantial resources exhausted on new missile research should be redirected towards endeavours for the betterment of humanity, like the advancement of solar, tidal and wind energy technologies. MacBride’s receipt of the award was, however, met with subdued admiration, considering his prominence in international human rights advocacy.
Seán MacBride: The threat of enduring ‘the inexpressible’ is more imminent than ever, despite the warnings issued by the Nobel laureate
Nonetheless, the Lenin committee praised him as Ireland’s exceptional statesman, positing his career as exemplifying selfless devotion to noble aspirations of peace and progress. In this praise, the Russians conveniently omitted reference to MacBride’s “anti-communist” tenure as minister for external affairs.
In 1947, it emerged that the Soviet Union had obstructed Ireland’s attempt to join the United Nations, the representative of the former accusing Ireland plus Portugal, both of which remained neutral during the recent global conflict, of endorsing fascism. He added that these countries were also closely bonded with Franco’s Spain, the final remnant of fascism across Europe.
That same annual cycle witnessed a shake-up in Irish politics, which was attributed to MacBride’s Clann na Poblacht, the emerging “republican” party. MacBride, who was a recognised lawyer and used to advocate for his ex-IRA colleagues, steered his party to seize two byelections, thereby challenging Fianna Fáil’s command. Subsequently, in the 1948 “dethrone them” elections, his party secured 10 positions.
As part of a five-party collaboration, with John A Costello of Fine Gael at the helm as the taoiseach, MacBride assumed the role of external affairs minister. The government’s initial action consisted of the controversial move sending a message to the Pope, expressing their profound respect and loyalty towards him. Despite objections from the taoiseach’s department secretary regarding its inappropriate language for a sovereign government, MacBride’s cabinet surpassed it.
Amid concerns of a potential victory for a socialist-communist alliance in the Italian general election, MacBride entangled himself. Archbishop John Charles McQuaid, along with other Bishops, had raised funds, totalling over £60,000, to counteract Italy’s left through public radio, expressing a worry it could doom “western civilisation”. MacBride ensured the safe transfer of these monies via diplomatic means to the Christian Democrats, proving it potent than prayers offered by Dublin schoolchildren.
The Vatican and McQuaid were both perturbed to learn that predominantly Catholic Ireland declined the offer to join Nato under MacBride’s rule. MacBride dismissed the American proposal to enter the 1949 alliance, not due to his lack of enthusiasm for American anti-Soviet endeavours, but because membership would force him to recognise partition.
MacBride’s politcial reputation in Ireland was significantly damaged following the infamous “mother and child” incident in 1951. It was then that the government subserviently concurred with the Catholic bishops’ rejection of Noël Browne’s healthcare reforms, causing Browne to step down as he felt the Cabinet had capitulated to Rome. Although Browne regained his seat in the general election as an Independent candidate roughly two months later, MacBride, who had led the polls in previous years, barely clinched victory in the final tally. A mere couple of representatives were returned for Clann na Poblachta.
MacBride resumed his career in law, losing his Dáil seat in 1957, only to rise again in the international arena over the subsequent decade. He played a vital part in Amnesty International, eventually becoming secretary general of the Geneva-based International Commission of Jurists. With his appointment as assistant secretary general of the UN for Namibia in 1973, his international standing became even more notable.
In the year following MacBride’s demise in 1989, greta strides were taken to ease international tensions, with Irish taoiseach Charlie Haughey expressing his delight as he welcomed Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev to Ireland. Not long after that, the Berlin Wall crumbled, signalling the end of the Cold War period and the dissolution of the era’s geopolitical realities.
Today, we find ourselves in a world of increasing uncertainty, wherein the threat of deploying nuclear missiles has become a looming menace. Echoing the sentiments of this year’s Nobel committee, the long-standing “taboo” against nuclear weaponry is facing intense scrutiny, especially in places torn by conflict like Ukraine. Consequently, the fear of encountering the “the indescribable” is more palpable than ever before.