Cathleen O'Neal on the Integration of Religion and Politics in Ireland

By: Cathleen O'Neal

April 14, 2008

Greetings again from Dublin! In my last letter, I mentioned that it appears as though religion in Ireland extends far beyond spiritual practice to include political affiliation and action. As I have spent more time in Ireland, I have noticed further evidence in support of this idea. I recently visited Dublin’s two medieval cathedrals. Christ Church, the elder of the two, functions as the seat of the archbishops of the Church of Ireland and the Roman Catholic Church. It bears the additional identity marker as the church of Trinity College, a traditionally Protestant institution. St. Patrick’s Cathedral stands as the national cathedral for Ireland and has a special relationship with St. Patrick, a Catholic figure.


On visiting both cathedrals, the integration of political and religious aspects struck me as significant. Both cathedrals function as historical sites just as much as places of worship. Although some of this likely results from the simple longevity of the buildings, dating to the medieval period, both edifices combine the religious and the political in the scared place of worship. The crypt of Christ Church for example, contains items ranging from an antique tabernacle to a set of stocks to a statue of Charles I, exhibiting the amalgamation of religious and political identity in Ireland along with its valuable historical artifacts. St. Patrick’s displays a similar integration. Its main transept, for example, holds a number of statues commemorating lawyers, politicians, and other public figures.

While the Church privileges the building’s' purpose as a place of worship rather than as a museum, it is difficult to dismiss the wealth of historical artifacts, rife with political meaning, nestled amongst crosses and colored by light streaming trough the stained glass (at least on those rare sunny days in Dublin!).

I dwell on this integration because it seems fairly unique to Ireland, or at least different from the situation in the United States. Whereas the United States Constitution maintains at least an ostensible separation of church and state, no such definite division exists in Ireland. Examples of religious identity are everywhere— on O’'Connell Street, a major thoroughfare of Dublin containing public monuments and statues of senators and political figures—for example, a glass-encased statue of Jesus stands with arms outstretched and no descriptive plaque, seeming to suggest no need for an explanation.

In any case, the presence of these indicators of religious identity suggests the religious division that still exists in Ireland. The very existence of two cathedrals in Dublin, though neither has a distinct affiliation but exist to serve the community, underscores this point. While the division may be more distinct in Northern Ireland, it is observable in the south as well. Although Dublin lacks the vibrant religious and political murals and definite dividing walls of Belfast, people still identify themselves along religious lines. When Michael Longley, the Ireland Chair of Poetry, spoke at University College Dublin (UCD), he referred to the “cultural apartheid” that existed between UCD and Trinity College during his time as a student. While this division is certainly lessened today, the school a person chooses to attend still sends a signal of identity.

In any case, in reading my fellow correspondent’s' notes from abroad, particularly those studying in Spain, I have noticed a similar trend: religious affiliation in Ireland does not dictate spiritual practice so much as signal political, or more specifically, social identity.
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