By crstein1
I had the amazing opportunity to meet up with my parents this past weekend. They wanted to visit me during my study abroad semester, but had already been to Spain, so we decided on a trip to Dublin, where none of us had ever been. I was beyond impressed with Ireland. It’s a beautiful place, quite unlike any other place in Europe I have visited. Instantly upon arrival it became clear that regardless of the typical gloomy weather, the Irish people are the alive and happy types, who love their pubs and their folk dancing. I fell in love with the place that seems to exist in a perpetual Saint Patrick’s Day celebration.
Something changed a bit on my last day in the city though, as my presence in pubs turned into a presence in past. I removed the Guinessy, leprechauny, four-leaf-cloverly, tinted glasses and saw a different part of Ireland. It happened on a tour of the Kilmainham Gaol prision. This prison, which is now a museum and no longer holds inmates, played an important role in Irish history. Many leaders of the Irish rebellion and the Irish fight for independence from Great Britain were held and executed in Kilmainham Gaol. The building now stands as a monument for the fight for Irish freedom, and as a heavy-hearted tribute of the oppression and suffering that accompanied that fight. Sure, I had heard the stories, and of course, as an American I can sympathize with the desire for liberty, yet something about this seemed so different… so much more intense. Perhaps it was the short distance in history. The Irish fight for independence took place in the past hundred years, making the memories still potent in the minds of the Irish.
I got to thinking about patriotism and nationalist sentiments. What is it that creates that deep soul-wrenching desire for autonomy? I have a huge amount of respect and awe for those who do have the guts and the devotion to fight for their pride and for their country. I admire those volunteers who were part of my grandparents’ generation, who unsuccessfully fought in the Easter Uprising of 1916 in Dublin, with the same dream of autonomy that the American founding fathers had. Yet I wonder if there is a point when nationalist sentiments become too much. When does it come to the point when losing your loved ones becomes more important than the cause itself? I love my home in New York more than anything, and while I’ve recently been feeling rather fond and patriotic about my study abroad country, Spain, I’ll always be a New Yorker at heart. But if New York wanted to succeed from the union, I’m pretty sure I would move before I, or my friends and family, joined the fight. It’s an interesting debate.