Emigration is not all about adventure for young people

"I get very upset when I hear the narrative about emigration being all about adventure for young people." (Ethan O'Brien, Irish Times 25/10/14)

At an Anglo/American wake in the west of Ireland at the end of the 1940s, after Britain and the Republic of Ireland agreed to the free movement of people between the two countries, neighbours were commiserating with Nora and Mickey who were departing the next day for Britain and America.

There were the usual songs, mostly of an emigrant genre, but one in particular remains in my memory. It went something like this: “When there are better days in Ireland I’ll come home and marry you.” Its words gave the family and neighbours the language to bid their goodbyes, goodbyes they hoped in some way would lessen the pain of departure for Nora, Michael and their family.

Interpreting the sentiments of the song the neighbours translated the lyrics into their own words of grief and comfort. They said to the two departing, “never mind, you’ll be back when things improve.” To the grieving parents they said; “don’t worry, they’ll be back in a few years when things get better.”

The neighbours who had been through this ritual for generations knew in their hearts that those departing would not be back, but these were the only words of comfort in their vocabulary for all concerned. Both the parents of Nora and Mickey and the neighbours understood from previous experiences of departures that once relationships were broken by emigration, they would never be the same again. New ones would have to be re-invented, but at a distance and through the written word, a different world from today.

I was to hear those expressions of grief and sympathy again and again over the decades. I was not surprised to read them again in a recent article in the Irish Times by Ciara Kenny. The words used by Ethan O'Brien, "Ah, sure, you're gone for a good time and you can come back in a few years, it'll be grand" are as old as Irish emigration.

I understand his anger and frustration at such remarks. Regularly, I hear similar expressions over the airwaves. I don’t think they are to be understood cynically or casually. They are similar to the expressions I have heard over the decades by people trying to cope with the breach in relationships caused by emigration.

There is awkwardness in finding words to express loss, pain and grief, particularly by people who do not have the experience of emigration. In today’s world where travel is experienced by many there is an assumption that emigration is similar to tourism - short-term and exciting. Also, there is the other popular false assumption that all emigrants are successful. Sadly, there is no gold on the streets.

Distance in the external landscape has diminished. However, distance in the internal landscape of the heart remains the same, needing to be processed, as in the past. Grief, loss, the pain of departure, the discomfort of arrival and the realisation that one is not at home any more have not gone away, even in the age of Skype.

Now Ireland is in the communication age, one would expect objective information about emigration which, like it or not, will always be a characteristic of small island economies. It was disconcerting to hear political leaders during the affluent years of this century declare that the emigrant ship was in the past, even when the ratio of debt to GDP was unsustainable. Sadly, those shouting stop were ignored, derided.

Lastly, contrary to the expressions made to Ethan, return is not easy. Indeed, return for many, as in the past, will not be realised. Again, a small-populated island will never, with its present unequal economic structures, be sufficiently viable to offer all those annually entering the labour market access to the economy in the form of a job. If it did, Ireland would not have a diaspora. It is not the lot of the Irish to be emigrants. Emigration is not an act of God.

Best wishes to Ethan on his journey of hope. May he find happiness, fulfilment and always be at home with himself.

[ how migrants can feel like 'outsiders' when they return ]