Nothing more Irish than a live-streamed funeral

Rite & Reason: While it may seem strange elsewhere, for many Irish people the livestream link is just another tool to democratise an already public ritual

It’s no secret that the Irish are sticklers for tradition and nowhere is this more evident than in death. Our funerals are known for ancient rituals and huge turnouts and have historically been a bittersweet affair – a celebration of the deceased’s life, rather than a solemn reflection on their passing.

Our wakes are famous for their mighty craic, with refreshments (mostly alcohol) and entertainment (mostly singalongs) being enjoyed into the night. Our funeral services, the majority of which are requeim Masses despite an increasing decline in the practice of Catholicism, often draw numbers into the hundreds. Our receptions, usually held at a pub after the burial or cremation, buzz with tipsy storytelling and respectful banter.

It is perhaps this attachment to tradition that makes the rise of live-streamed funerals all the more intriguing. In March 2020, the Government limited funeral numbers to just 10 people, in a desperate bid to curb the spread of Covid-19. The rule forced many families to rely on technology to grieve their loved ones, with the Irish Association of Funeral Directors (IAFD) estimating that between 90 and 95 per cent of funerals were live-streamed during the pandemic. Over three years on the restrictions have lifted – but the cameras are still rolling.

In May 2023, a sample size of 100 death notices listed on obituary website rip.ie revealed that nearly 70 per cent included a public link to a livestream funeral. These findings align with those of the IAFD, which believes that 65-70 per cent of funerals are now available to watch online.

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The live-streamed funeral may be a relatively modern phenomenon, but the culture behind it is nothing new. This island has never been shy about its deceased, with records of death notices in newspapers dating as far back as 1837.

Since the late 2000s, rip.ie has been the most popular place for people to find out who has died, and in recent times, how to virtually attend their funeral. “All our traffic comes from RIP.ie,” Rob Treloar of Absent Friends, a Dublin-based funeral live-streaming service, says. “The number of visitors shows just how useful a tool it is for the Irish community.”

Treloar adds that families rarely object to the livestreams being accessible to strangers, estimating that 95 per cent of his clients post the link publicly on rip.ie. This attitude may be seen as a digital adaptation of the open door policy that has distinguished Ireland’s funerals from those in neighbouring countries, such as Britain.

“In rural Ireland, weddings were expensive. You could only go to it if you were invited,” explains Dr Kelly Fitzgerald, head of the school of Irish, Celtic studies and folklore at University College Dublin. “But anybody in the community could go to a wake and a funeral.”

The importance of the Irish funeral over the past 100 years is largely attributed to its jeopardisation during the Great Famine (1845-1852), when an estimated one million people died of starvation or disease. “This was a traumatic moment for the Irish, who, a broadly devout Catholic population, overwhelmed by the numbers dying, weren’t able to observe the rites [of burial],” says Oonagh Walsh, professor of gender studies at Glasgow Caledonian University. “There was no food, no community and no drink to have the traditional three-day wake.”

In the aftermath of the Famine, Ireland went to great lengths to re-establish funerals. Games, matchmaking and liquor returned in force, so much so that the issue of “unruly behaviour” at Irish wakes was even raised in multiple church council meetings towards the end of the 19th century.

But we didn’t care what others thought of our funerals then – and we still don’t. At first glance, the live-streaming of funerals is likely to invite criticism; an intrusive spectacle, or at worst, a violation of a sacred ritual.

But when considering the historically public nature of the Irish funeral, its transition to the virtual world shouldn’t come as a surprise.

Live-streaming has allowed us to expand on a principle that has long defined our attitudes towards death: there is no gate-keeping around grief. To privatise a funeral, either online or in person, is to reject the communal ethos that has shaped Ireland’s burial practices for centuries. While it may seem strange elsewhere, for many Irish people the livestream link is just another tool to democratise an already public ritual.

Rather than disrupt our funeral traditions, live-streaming has presented an opportunity to preserve and strengthen them. It is the modern wand fulfilling the wishes we’ve always had for our dead: to be remembered, to be celebrated, and most importantly, to be seen. And in a country where even the most ordinary person is worthy of posthumous stardom, the live-streamed funeral may be the greatest tribute of all.

Emma Dooney is a journalist based in London