Removing the gum from Irish politics
By Eoghan Mac Cormaic
It was over Easter, as I repinned the Easter Lily to my lapel for
the nth time, that I realised that what's fundamental with this
revolution is tradition. We are what we wear, and rather than
wearing our hearts on our sleeves, we - as a people, or as a
movement - have become more and more given to the wearing of our
heart on our lapels.
At Easter time the badge of identity is the lily, but it isn't
just the lily, it's how the lily is attached that reveals how the
wearer honours Ireland's patriot dead. Or determines which
category of the patriot dead is being honoured. The politically
conscious follower of fashion understands that the Lily should
have a pin through it, to avoid shades of being sticky, and so
the medium becomes the message. And not just any pin. It must be
a straight pin. No safety pin, no discreet pin tucked in from
behind the lapel, not a tiny gold pin. A simple, plain, silver
pin. From the front.
The time was when a larger pin was in vogue, one with a large
head on it, the type of pin you'd get stabbed with through a
ticket on the trousers which you'd just had dry-cleaned
especially for the Easter Commemoration. I can't remember when
that pin gave way to the present pin but I'm sure we lost many
members during the changeover. People who saw no transition
between the two, no safety-pin measures, no pin-heads of
agreement.
The real break in lily politics came of course with the peel and
stick variety. That was a real split. Prior to that lilies were
bigger, and had little tags at the top for the pin. They were a
different design too from the present lily, and when the split
came two new lilies were born. Horticulturists were amazed.
Political scientists were baffled. Loyalties and affiliations
were decided on the matter of gum versus pin. Nearly thirty years
later the gum has almost been removed from Irish politics.
A lot of people also make statements with their lilies. Subtle
design features and additions are tolerated, so long as the whole
process of wearing the lily doesn't fall into anarchy. Republican
anthropologists (as opposed to apologists) should note that
lilies are sometimes deliberately worn upside down as the wearer
makes his or her personal protest at something best understood by
themselves. This act is in line with the habit of sticking stamps
on letters upside down, the bane of the post office no doubt but
sadly contributing little in the overall struggle for The
Republic. Perhaps it's done to remind us that Ireland is still
unfree or maybe to show that they are more patriotic than the
rest of us and couldn't bear to sport a vertical lily while the
FFers, and Stickies and IRSPs and every other shower are doing
the same. Whatever the reason, it stands out. Other design
features over the years have included the addition of weapons on
the lilies, or other overprinted messages, but that fashion seems
to have passed.
The most recent change in the lily occurred a few years ago when
the lily became smaller and more streamlined. The modification
caused just about as much furore as the streamlining of the
shamrock on the Bord Fáilte logo. No doubt we lost members during
that transition too with accusations of sell-out, and modernism
and dare I say it, treachery.The new lily was unrecognisable,
they said. And from shoeboxes and short-bread biscuit tins in
attics and from under floorboards came the hoards of old lilies
which had lain unsold in previous years to be worn in defiance of
any attempts at foisting change. I'm telling you, tradition is a
fundamental.
I thought of all this last week as I pinned - for the nth + one
time - the lily to my lapel. Countless pinpricks on the suffering
fabric have left my once proud wool collar looking like badly
scuffed tweed, but I don't mind. I have it on good authority that
next year's lily will have a velcro back.