“There’s a new sheriff in town,” to quote Donald Trump’s deputy, JD Vance, and a new way of doing things, such as the proposed American Riviera in Gaza. However, as Simon Harris affirmed recently, the Irish Government remains “pro international law” and “pro human rights”. On this basis, Harris called for maximum support for the planned reconstruction of Gaza to allow its displaced people to return home.
This approach to conflict resolution – prioritising peaceful coexistence – echoes the position adopted by Éamon de Valera in 1932 when he became acting president of the Council of the League of Nations. Ireland, he stated, “desired peace at home and throughout the world”. But the Geneva-based League, fatally weakened by the absence of the US from its inception, struggled to impose its will in global affairs. De Valera’s plea for maintaining the rule of law in international affairs was made as Japan’s military expansionism continued in China. And worse would follow.
In October 1935, Italy invaded Abyssinia (now Ethiopia). Mussolini’s heavily armed forces overwhelmed the country’s ill-equipped defenders and claimed victory after just seven months. De Valera, who had warned that the League of Nations would “crumble into dust” if aggression went unpunished, supported the imposition of sanctions against Italy. In Ireland’s case this was a political gesture to support the League – Irish trade with Italy was minimal – but he came under fire at home for taking action against a “Catholic country” supposedly attempting to bring “civilisation” to an African country. That is, bringing “civilisation” with machine guns, and poison gas. Arguments were also advanced against Ireland applying sanctions on economic grounds. For example, more than one Fine Gael spokesman wanted to know why taking this action against Italy could not be used to extract concessions from Britain in the ongoing Anglo-Irish trade war. One of the party’s vice-presidents, Frank MacDermot, resigned, saying such objections offended against “common sense and decency”. Sanctions failed to stop Mussolini, however, and de Valera began to despair at the effectiveness of collective security. “The whole position in Europe is one of uncertainty and of menace,” he told the Dáil. “We want to be neutral.”
De Valera’s foreign policy, biographer Ronan Fanning writes, “was based on his perception of the national interest and took no heed of Irish public opinion”. In doing this, he ignored the powerful Catholic lobby when he voted at the League of Nations to accept the Soviet Union as a member.
‘The whole position in Europe is one of uncertainty and of menace’ – John Mulqueen on Éamon de Valera’s foreign policy
The ‘shipyard poet’ – Oliver O’Hanlon on playwright Thomas Carnduff
Setting the Bar High – Frank McNally on pubs called The Irish Times (and more songs about newspapers)
The Times they are a-name-checking – Frank McNally on songs about newspapers
This determination not to allow Catholic opinion to dictate government conduct in international affairs was highlighted, in July 1936, when the generals revolted against Spain’s elected government to start the civil war in that country. De Valera resisted intense pressure to withdraw recognition from the republican government in Spain. He pointed out that “diplomatic relations are primarily between states rather than between governments” and that severing ties with Madrid “would serve no useful purpose”. He accepted with alacrity the invitation to uphold the “non-intervention” position on the war advocated by Britain and France.
Non-intervention – “the supreme farce of our time,” to quote India’s Jawaharlal Nehru – was designed, in theory, to prevent the Spanish war escalating into a wider European conflict, but, in practice, it starved the Republic of arms and allowed Hitler and Mussolini to give the Franco-led rebels an overwhelming military advantage. Manuel Azaña, the president of the Spanish Republic, wrote in his diary: “It is a great thing to say that this is done to preserve peace in Europe. But to think that Germany or Italy would declare war on Britain or France if the Spanish government bought arms in these two countries is sheer stupidity.” At the outset of the civil war, the Republic’s most eloquent spokeswoman, Dolores Ibárruri – “Pasionaria” – warned that if the fascists were victorious in Spain “all of Europe will have to face aggression and war”.
The destruction of Guernica by Nazi Germany’s Luftwaffe in April 1937 illustrated what modern warfare would look like. An Irish Times editorial stated that the republican-held town was “wiped out of existence in a few hours by the most ruthless air raid in the history of warfare”. Large numbers of civilians were massacred by bombs and machine-gun fire, it observed, and Franco’s claim that Guernica had been destroyed by the Basques to make propaganda in favour of the Madrid government was, quite simply, “preposterous”.
The following year Britain and France appeased Hitler and agreed to give him a portion of Czechoslovakia – the Sudetenland – which rendered the country indefensible. The Czechs were not invited to this meeting in Munich, whose outcome, as Neville Chamberlain put it, delivered “peace for our time”. Winston Churchill did not agree, and warned prophetically: “The partition of Czechoslovakia under pressure from England and France amounts to the complete surrender of the western democracies to the Nazi threat of force. It is not Czechoslovakia alone which is menaced, but also the freedom and the democracy of all nations.” Twelve months later Hitler invaded Poland.
In the inter-war world there were too many outlaws who didn’t give a damn about the sheriff in Geneva.
