Never miss a beat
What's it about: Ancient Irish law, customs and culture
Why did I read it: Research for Terminal Lucidity's second storyline.
Lá Fhéile Pádraig sona dhaoibh! (Happy St. Patrick's Day to you all!) There's a lot of discourse about why we still celebrate this holiday—see here for more qualified people's opinions—and I've always had qualms with how people celebrate it. Being Irish is not about getting ridiculously drunk, slapping a "kiss me I'm Irish" tattoo on your cheek and passing out. But, according to some of my friends and my former Irish language teacher, it's also a source of great chagrin to lean too far into the folk tradition. Then there's the diaspora—from the Great Hunger to the economic emigration in the later 20th century—which has inculcated a sense of change, of departure and abandonment, of always longing for a home you can never return to.
So what is Irishness? Nowadays, as Ireland prospers both economically and culturally, it's a bit difficult to pinpoint what exactly "Irish" means. My definition is shaped by my upbringing, the writers and public figures I admire (from Yeats to Tommy Tiernan to Mary Robinson), and the time I've spent in the country itself. I've expressed this in some of the poems I've published on Cassandra Voices.
However, if you want to solidify an "Irish vibe", you might want to consult Jo Kerrigan's book, Brehon Laws: The Ancient Wisdom of Ireland.
When I was last in Ireland in September, I told my dad I was beginning to research Irish mythology and ancient society in earnest, as part of a much larger fiction project I'm embarking on. Always eager to support my creative endeavours, he went to Hodges Figgis and picked up this book.
This is no dense legal text, but rather a comprehensive introduction to the historical context in which Brehon laws were created, and how each facet of society was regulated. I'll quickly touch upon some of my favorite parts:
First, Brehon law is not about sequestering the criminal away from society; there is always an opportunity for redemption. As Kerrigan writes:
"Under brehon law, full restitution to those who were wronged was the key issue, and when you look at it, that demonstrates thoughtful and caring sense. After all, taking the most extreme example, if someone kills the head of a household, what earthly good does it do to simply execute the criminal? How does that benefit the grieving wife, the bereaved family, the children left fatherless and peniless? The attraction of 'an eye for an eye', unfortunately, is that it satisfies the instinctive and basic desire for revenge, and that is precisely why brehon law pushes firmly in the opposite direction." (67-68)
Therefore, punishment often manifests as payment, demotion in social class and community service. Again, Kerrigan states, "rather than being a continuing and substantial drain on resources [in prison], the offender can at least contribute to the general good and, hopefully, learn something along the way." (69)
Second, as a writer, I was delighted to read that poets and lawyers (brehons) were educated in the same schools, as "it was through poetry that the old laws and customs had been remembered for generations". (32) Both professions required precise memorization of these stories, and only splintered in their application.
Third, as someone who works on online harms, I was cheered to read that being a bystander, knowingly doing nothing when a crime is being committed, is considered an offence. This further stresses the point that everyone in society has an obligation to look after one another. (90-91)
Finally, Kerrigan devotes an entire section of the book to laws around women's rights in ancient Ireland. I'm delighted that she did; we so often pride ourselves nowadays on being progressive with women's rights, but we're still far behind our ancestors. While some may know that women retained all their wealth after marrying, Kerrigan points out that rapists were required to pay hefty fines for their crimes, equated almost to the price of murder, depending on the case. And, "if the rape resulted in pregnancy, then the perpetrator was responsible for the rearing of the child." (150) Furthermore, acts that we nowadays might shrug off as "guys being jerks" were actual crimes: catcalling, talking about a woman's body or sex life to your buddies, or spreading untrue tales were reasonable grounds for divorce and subject to fines.
Kerrigan is under no illusions, however. She highlights areas of the law that weren't perfect; after all, no human society ever was or is. And it is this pragmatic approach that makes this book so engrossing from start to finish. Kerrigan's prose is extremely accessible. Her writing is filled with wry jokes, witticisms, and even a short work of fiction at the end to demonstrate how Brehon laws were applied in daily life. Each chapter is paired with beautiful photographs of ancient burial sites and Irish landscape, taken by Richard Mills.
I could talk for ages about how much of Brehon law I would like to reinstate to our legislative framework and overall view of justice. But this post is already way too long, and I bet you have some green-hued celebrations to run off to.
I'll close with this: when my friends gush about Ireland, they mention the people's hospitality and understanding. It's not just talking for the sake of it; the conversations are endless because there is a genuine interest in the totality of a person's life. And I believe that is an enduring trait of Irishness. At the heart of Brehon law is proportionality and a focus on the material circumstances of one's crime. It is about compassion and drawing upon the past to inform the future. Our future.
Pick up a copy of Brehon Laws this St. Patrick's Day, cozy up in a pub, and get stuck in. Go raibh mile maith agaibh as léamh, agus sláinte!
Related Posts
