Explaining the Irish

SIGMUND Freud famously claimed that the Irish were the only people on earth beyond the reach of psychoanalysis, writes the brilliant Frank McNally (in the Irish Times of Saturday 21 June)

We don’t know what exactly he meant by this (and at the rates he was charging, we sure as hell weren’t going to ask). But the truth of his claim will be tested over the next few months, as the whole of Europe tries to find out why we voted No to Lisbon and in what circumstances we might change our minds.

The need to understand the Irish psyche has achieved unprecedented urgency not just because of last week’s vote, but also due to the threat posed by a virus that seems to be sweeping the continent. I refer, of course, to “Irishness” itself. Long considered unique to the people of this island, the condition now appears, like bird flu, to have mutated and jumped the species barrier.

At first it was only Eurosceptics, especially British ones, who were affected. On the day of the Lisbon poll, the Tory MEP Daniel Hannan went public about his own diagnosis and then went even further by claiming: “Today, we are all Irish”. This sounded like an exaggeration at the time. “Hannan” might be an Irish name, after all: it was possible his condition was caused by a rogue gene.

But then other Eurosceptics also began to out themselves with similar phrases. And fears of a pandemic grew this week when the French foreign minister, Bernard Kouchner, a pro-Lisbon politician with no known links to this country, declared his respect for the No vote with the same dreaded words: “We are all Irish.” Since when, the entire Czech parliament has come down with symptoms.

Irishness in foreigners may of course be just a temporary disorder: a bit like hysterical pregnancy. At worst, sufferers might be vulnerable to embarrassing themselves by wearing silly green hats in the European Parliament. But it is vital that Europe understands the full-blown condition, just in case. Which is why we as a people will be on the couch between now and October, while a multinational army of psychologists tries to find out what makes us tick.

Unfortunately for him, the role of chief shrink falls to Nicolas Sarkozy, who takes up the revolving EU presidency next month and plans an immediate visit to Ireland to find out why we voted No.

I presume this means he will be staying longer than the usual afternoon, or even a night in Farmleigh. It will require more of a Heinrich Böll-type tour of Ireland to gain any meaningful insights. So with this in mind, I have drawn up a six-week itinerary of places and events Mr Sarkozy might take in while here. He can still be home by the middle of August.

The Galway Races: There can be nowhere better to gain an understanding of how the Irish think than the annual extravaganza in Ballybrit. Ideally, the French president should meet people for lunch, over several days, in a big tent. I know where he can get one cheap.

The July 12th celebrations in Cullybackey: Antrim Orangemen do not have a vote in the Republic’s referendums. But it could still be useful for Mr Sarkozy to talk to the more hard-line representatives of the Ulster-Scots tradition. After all, they may soon be the only people in Europe who are definitely not Irish.

The Mahon tribunal: No investigation of the national psyche would be complete without details of Bertie Ahern’s personal finances, which make both the Lisbon Treaty and Universal String Theory seem straightforward by comparison. If the former taoiseach is not available to perform live, perhaps actor Joe Taylor could take the stand and present a selection of Bertie’s finest explanations.

A big GAA match: The Ulster football and Munster hurling finals are both on in July. But as part of the process of softening up voters for a second Lisbon poll, Mr Sarkozy should avoid those and head for one of the qualifier games instead. Inter alia, in an apparently unscripted aside, he could impress people with his knowledge of the GAA by saying how much fairer the “back-door” system is than the old one, when months of painstaking preparation could be undone by one bad vote. . .er, I mean performance.

Thomond Park: Even if it’s outside the rugby season, the French president should at least stand on the pitch in Thomond and absorb some of the Munster spirit from the air. Then he could watch videos of the team’s greatest victories, after which somebody might try explaining to him why – at times of extreme happiness – the home supporters sing a song from Connacht about a man being deported for life during the Famine.

Fleadh Cheoil na hÉireann: This would be a good place for the official Irish launch of Carla Bruni’s eagerly awaited third album. Unlike her husband’s, Ms Bruni’s politics are a private matter. But her new songs include the autobiographical 40 years and 30 Lovers; so it seems fair to say that, broadly speaking, she’s in the Yes camp. Also, the album’s title Comme Si de Rien N’Était” neatly expresses the feeling among many EU leaders about last week’s Irish vote.

Puck Fair: The high point of the ancient festival in Killorglin is the crowning of King Puck – a male mountain goat – by the Queen of the Fair, a local schoolgirl. After watching this, Mr Sarkozy may have a much better understanding of the Irish mind. Alternatively, he may decide he’s better off not understanding it at all.