How do we reconcile mass deportations of asylum seekers with our alleged benevolence towards dark-skinned peoples? Is there a common denominator between our ostentatious alms-giving and our slithery silence about the treatment of those brothers and sisters of the lucky beneficiaries of our charity who happen to make it to the holy ground of Ireland itself? Is it possible that Ireland is not merely a racist society but a hypocritically racist society, askes John Waters
A few possible answers to these questions struck me at the annual St Patrick's Day Symposium at Dublin Castle last week. The other panellists included various left-wing, liberal and progressive voices; the audience comprised mainly representatives of sundry artistic and immigrant support groups. We were convened to discuss the motion: "How can cultural practice contribute to dispelling fear and embrace the culturally diverse society that has now emerged in Ireland?"
It was not a hugely useful discussion, being diffused, inadequately defined and one-sided. The contributions, though sometimes individually interesting, lacked focus, slipping without warning or pretext through the gears of culture, politics and sociology.
The defining contribution came when a speaker from the floor drew attention to the previous day's deportation of 80 Nigerians, and made a number of allegations concerning the treatment of members of his dance troupe at the hands of the asylum system. All this, he said, made him ashamed to be Irish. I had to leave at lunchtime, by which time the event had been stamped by a mixture of sanctity and guilt, the verdict, by acclamation, being that Ireland is an increasingly racist society.
The discussion was in some respects emblematic of our broader national response to the massive cultural and demographic challenge of the past decade. Our "discussion" had exhibited a counterproductive polarisation, to the detriment of cultural consensus or civic responsibility. We avoided the kind of conversation that might have enabled a rigorous look at the broader implications of immigration, choosing to stage yet another morality play.
The debate was scuppered early on by the denial of a licence to certain viewpoints. To begin, this may have arisen from a well-intentioned politeness: the sense that we should not be saying things that might make our "visitors" feel unwelcome. But, truly, the most damaging epithet in this whole affair has been the word "racist", which served to throttle at birth any possibility of a constructive exchange about the changes that were occurring.
"Progressive" entities and individuals, perceiving an opportunity for a moral workout, condemned as "racist" or "xenophobic" anyone who raised even the mildest anxiety about the changing Ireland. Inevitably, the conversation went underground and the middle ground fell silent, leaving the stage to those who substitute moral indignation for responsibility and those who think they can defy the tide of human affairs by sticking their heads up their backsides. And so a vital issue became another arena for the longstanding stand-off between those seeking to demonstrate their moral vitality, and the unseen majority which seems not to mind being called backward so long as it is not required to take ownership of its own society. Because of the failure to engage in the kind of debate that, by arriving at a democratic consensus, requires society to take responsibility for its own functioning, Ireland can today be accused of cultivating institutional racism behind a veneer of post-colonial piety and pretence. The treatment of asylum seekers is the above-ground ecology of our evasion and denial. The politicians and officials who implement the immigration and asylum strategy do not have formal riding instructions from us.
Their actions are carried out by default, informed by the exigencies of the system in the absence of a clear articulation of what we desire. Like the result of last year's referendum, official policy is, by virtue of its opacity, deniable: it allows us to wash our hands of what is done in our names. The absence of a serious outcry about the continuing deportations suggests that what is happening is broadly what we want, while the occasional expression of disquiet suggests a desire to have it both ways.
In answer, then, to my question about how we reconcile our international image as patrons of the Third World with the reality of the system that grinds those who come here seeking help, I would hazard that, in general, we seek in any subject the course that will enable us to parade the maximum virtue at minimal cost. This is true of our alms-giving - ostensibly impressive, but amounting to no real sacrifice. It is also true of our attitude to immigrants: let the system absolve us from responsibility for their treatment so that we can lament its inhumanity and get off on denouncing those who have carried out our sotto voce instructions. It strikes me that if we developed, by chance, a system that, by its rationality and humanity, absolved us from the requirement for moral posturing, we would be a great deal unhappier than we are.