My Grandad's Legacy

Politics matters in my family. Always has, always will. It stretches back through the generations.

Harry Boland, Michael Collins and Eamon de Valera irishtimes.com

My grandfather had a deep interest in politics and history. A Fianna Fail supporter, he was the party to his core but not to the exclusion of other viewpoints. Born in 1911, in an area that had its share of violence, his childhood bore witness to the difficult and traumatic birth of the nation. Like so many who grew up during the struggle for independence, he was shaped by it.

Unlike many of his generation, he was interested in both sides of the story. A keen historian he devoured every book that was published on both De Valera and Collins. A unique man. His collection of biographies is a testament to him. His influence from beyond the grave still has a hold over his family. Although he died when I was just ten, I knew he was Fianna Fail and I knew what his political will would be.

Politics mattered to him. Voting mattered to him. Back in the eighties he once arranged for my aunt in law to be driven back to her home town of Bangor, Co. Mayo to vote. She hadn’t registered to vote in Ballycastle and as she couldn’t drive he arranged a lift for her. She was driven to the polling station by a Fianna Fáil man. He may have been politically motivated but he wanted her to cast her vote.

Last Thursday for the first time in my life I didn’t vote. I haven’t held the right to vote for that long so its not as huge a statement to make as someone who stopped voting after fifty years but it was a big deal to me. Politics and voting mattered to me. I always believed that I had a responsibility to vote. The right to vote was dearly bought for this country and for women. Rivers of blood were spilled and thousands of lives were lost. That knowledge has always weighed heavily on me. My Grandad’s influence too. I have always encouraged my friends to vote and pushed them to register. Now look at me. I have become what I despise - a hypocrite.

The reasons I came up with were logistical. I live in Laois. To vote I would have had to get a train home on Wednesday evening. I would have cast my vote on Thursday and caught a train back down to Galway to work on the radio show I present on Friday mornings. Then I would have had to come home again to work. I also had a huge amount of assignments to complete. I felt the hours travelling would be better used in working. Returning home to vote was impractical and probably illogical but still I feel ashamed.

In the end the truth is, I just didn’t care enough. I’m not sure if that reflects more badly on me than on the candidates. Actually to say I didn’t care enough is only half the truth. In the last eight months I have felt badly let down and betrayed by politicians. I voted for the Labour party in the General Election. I believed their promises but they lied. I thought they were different but they turned out to be just like all the rest. Their deceit and their power hungry behavior since have soured my views on politicians and politics. I have lost faith in them. They even facilitated my political no show by scheduling the election on a Thursday.

In a way I felt that I was letting Grandad down, that I failed him. On a wider level, as a woman I failed Emily Pankhurst and the countless unknown heroines of the Suffragette movement. As an Irishwoman I failed the faceless thousands who gave their lives for this nation’s freedom. I failed James Connolly and Jim Larkin, Harry Boland. I failed my own Irish hero of politics, patriotism and socialism Michael Davitt. And I failed my grandfather’s twin heroes Michael Collins and Eamon DeValera.

There were no thunderbolts from heaven though I’m sure Grandad wasn’t impressed by my failure to vote. Maybe the celestial disapproval never came because Fianna Fail didn’t have a candidate. The party whose founder invented the position, the party that has dominated and shaped Irish society for eighty years, is now so weakened and enfeebled that it failed to contest the election. The soldiers of destiny couldn’t marshal the troops for the battle. He’s probably looking down on them, saddened by their fate.

Though in the grand tradition of Fianna Fáil Sean Gallagher could be seen to be the party’s unofficial candidate. I think if I had voted I would have given him my number one, not just because of Grandad but because Gallagher isn’t a politician. Maybe that lack of political experience cost him the Presidency. That’s a story for another day.

I am ashamed of my apathy. I can make all the excuses in the world but in the end I have to be honest with myself and call it like it is. Admitting to yourself that you have a problem is the first step. To others, the excuses I gave for not voting were reasonable. To me, when I reflected on my actions, they weren’t. Unlike my ancestors and heroes I took the easy way out. While they were willing to lay down their lives for what they believed in, I wasn’t willing to give up six hours of my time to travel home and then back to Galway to vote.

Maybe that’s my inheritance. The legacy handed down through the generations, from Grandad on, isn’t the party you support or who you vote for. In the end it’s simply voting. I won’t let him or myself down again.