The Gaelic Effect: How the Irish Language Can Save the World
Happy new year everyone! Athbhliain faoi mhaise daoibh go léir! I am so grateful you are here. I have big news to share with you.
Out with the old, in with the new
Today I am announcing a big change I’d like to celebrate with you—a new name for this publication: The Gaelic Effect: How the Irish Language Can Save the World. I know this title is a tall order. Yet I stand behind it: I truly believe Irish offers crucial insights—a precious thread of collective memory, insight and inspiration—about who we are as human beings and what we are capable of, at our best. I hope you will continue with me on this journey!
Sean-Eolas Nua (Old-New Knowledge)
In Rianne Eisler’s The Chalice and the Blade, drawing on current archaeological research, she describes a world that’s hard to imagine today. In this world, people lived in egalitarian and non-hierarchical ways, in peace, harmony and with a high value on creativity and joy. The latest research continues to confirms this. In stark contrast to the hierarchical structures that later emerged and that we still live under today, early Europeans co-habitated with a remarkable level of equality and peace. Yet archaeology isn’t the only way to re-imagine these distant times. The Irish language—endangered but still spoken today—offers a keyhole into another world where humans lived with a much higher level of relationality, interdependence, reverence and awe.
Deeply rooted to a land and culture perched on the most western edge of Europe, Irish offers a time capsule (as a three thousand year old living language) into one of Europe’s last remaining indigenous cultures. It reveals, in its vocabulary and very structure, a way of human life that is far more cooperative, interdependent and psychologically grounded. These aspects of Irish are remarkably different from other European languages, especially English, the imperialist language dominating the world today. Wonder and awe—the antidote to burnout and despair—are key to our survival. Irish gives us this as well, through its relationship with liminality and a joy and presence with/to the natural world.
In The Gaelic Effect, I explore the world and human relationships through the lens of the Irish language (Gaeilge). “Gaelic” more accurately refers to “Scots-Gaelic,” the Celtic language brought to Scotland from Ireland in the 5th-6th centuries A.D. Scots-Gaelic is still spoken, mostly in the highlands of Scotland and its western islands. “Irish,” in contrast, is the indigenous language of Ireland. “Irish” is how this language is called in Ireland. Yet many, especially in the U.S., now also call “Irish,” “Gaelic.” Maybe this is a take-off from the Irish word for “Irish,” Gaeilge, or because people don’t understand that Scots-Gaelic is a different language. There are in fact six living languages in the Celtic language family: Breton, Irish, Scottish (Scott’s) Gaelic and Welsh, and two revived languages, Cornish and Manx. “Gaelic” can also mean “relating to the Goidelic group of Celtic languages, … and the culture associated with speakers of these languages and their descendants.”
The Gaelic Effect sums up what I am doing here in two words: exploring the impact—the effect—of Irish (a Gaelic language) on how we perceive and move through the world. Since I am writing specifically about Irish and Irish culture, “Irish” in the title would offer greater accuracy. I want to avoid projecting American concepts of Ireland (especially inaccurate ones) back onto Ireland. Yet “Gaelic” (in its secondary definition) can also include the Irish language. The Gaelic Effect reminds me of the title The DaVinci Code, with a little intrigue to it. The full name also reminds me of another seminal title: How the Irish Saved Civilization. I really do believe the concepts here are life-changing, so I want to reach as many people as possible. “The Gaelic Effect,” I believe, will do that. A big “thank you” and shout out to Andrew, who has been so encouraging and supportive, for coming up with this new name. And to Kathy Scott, who first encouraged me to write about this and start a Substack. GRMA! Thank you!
The insights from Irish are inspiring but also very practical and remarkably consistent with Nonviolent Communication and other current thinking about psychological, spiritual and collective well being. Some brief examples include seeing feelings as temporary states rather than defining us (in Irish, feelings are “on” us rather than who we “are”); respectful relating with others and the living world (in Irish, there is no way to say “have” as in owning or possessing; things are “at” us—in relationship); the Irish word meitheal, which has no direct and easy translation into English, offers a radically different view of human beings living and working together in interdependent and collaborative ways. There are many, many other examples. I encourage you to read past issues of The Gaelic Effect to see what I mean. I also am excited about up coming topics. For example, this week I learned that there’s no word for “should” in Irish. You say instead, this would be “right” for me. Dochreidte! (Incredible! Amazing!) Imagine for a second a world with no “shoulds”!
Where did Liminality Go?
I am still fascinated with liminalty, which led to the original title of this Substack, The Liminal. As I shared in my opening post and in A World Pulsing with Life, liminality—the awareness of two worlds, the seen and the unseen, co-existing and often colliding—is intrinsic to Irish culture. This dual-awareness opens up space for humility and draíocht (wonder and awe). As human beings, we can’t see or understand everything. Some of it is simply too big, or too small. When we can’t parse it all, we can be surprised by the unexpected and the infinite. Science—the biggest God of our times (along with big business)—often assumes an all-knowing stance. There is no God or Gods left anywhere. Yet we are discovering now, such as through new physics and awareness of mycelium—which allow plants to communicate with each other—just how interconnected and intelligent all life is. The largest mycelium in the world, in Oregon, is estimated to be 8,000 years old and weigh 35,000 tons. We are seeing things now we completely missed before (and couldn’t imagine).
“Through their mycelium, fungi can partner with the roots of plants, including trees, creating a cross-kingdom web known as mycorrhizal (meaning 'fungus-root') networks. This network can benefit everyone involved.” —Mycelium: Exploring the hidden dimension of fungi
Years ago, when walking a bóithrín (a narrow, unpaved road) late at night in Doolin, I was on edge and fully alive. To use an Irish word that does not exist in English, I was sceitimíneach (rapturously excited). After the warmly lit pub, full of people and music, it was as if all the lights had been snuffed out. In fact, I was nearly a mile from any street lights. I remember thinking: I can barely see anything or know where to step. I have no idea where the road begins or ends. This was before cell phones (yes, that long ago!) and I had nothing to light my way. In that heavy cloak of night, the landscape looked inexplicable, with odd shapes emerging. I could see how people believed in the sidhe (the fairy people).
More recently, I was at the Dark Night Festival on Uíbh Ráthach, the Iveragh Peninsula. While all of the programs were compelling (including one about the creation of the milky way, from a cow that was greedily over-milked, according to Irish folklore), my favorite event involved visiting the rock art at night. Unlike megalithic tombs (also Stone Age: about four and a half thousand years old), the intricate spirals of rock art are much more subtle than Dolmens or standing stones. Found on low lying rocks and boulders, they are often barely visible during daylight; sometimes you can’t see them at all. If you really want to see them, you must go at liminal times: at dusk or, even better, after night fall. They are like invisible ink: during the day, too bleached out to see. At night, they are like the sidhe themselves: they magically appear. According to astro-archaeologists, they were designed in this way: to specifically be seen in the in-between times.
Beyond the liminality found in Irish language and culture, I am fascinated with the liminal spaces in my own life, including in learning a new language and the liminality of what I see happening in the world. We are between places, as a species. Where will we end up? Will we make it? It’s a bit like walking that dark road at night. In this context, I find the liminality of Irish language and culture reassuring. The early Celts understood these in-between places.
Tá beocht sa dóchas. —Hope gives life.
Where Do We Go Now?
The Gaelic Effect explores collective human memory and potential. Where are we now, in these liminal times? Where are we going? How will we get there? How do we live more skillfully with each other, and other beings? In asking these questions, I draw on my training and experience as a certified life coach and as a certified trainer in Nonviolent Communication. I draw on my academic training in applied linguistics, cultural studies and critical and narrative theory. Yet after years as an activist, academic, coach and trainer, I find my greatest teacher now is the Irish language. Learning Irish has challenged, surprised and delighted me. It’s also given me profound hope about what’s possible for us human beings, revealing indigenous ways of seeing that I believe can transform the world. After years of studying Irish literature and culture (both my M.Phil. and PhD. degrees are in Irish studies), it has taken me this long to see how the Irish language is at the heart of it all.
While the name has changed, The Gaelic Effect will continue to explore human possibility. With the Irish language as our guide, we will travel that road with presence, awe, humor beauty and delight—with poetry, music, art, photos and stories (we all need some good stories!) to light/en the way.
Thank you so much (go raibh míle, míle maith agat) to all of you who have traveled this far with me. I am honored by your presence. Some on this list were brought over from a previous blog I wrote on Nonviolent Communication. Some of those folks have departed; clearly, this is not everyone’s cup of tea. Luckily, buíochas le dia, new subscribers have joined in. So here I am. Thank you. I am especially grateful to paid subscribers, who are underwriting this labor of love (and helping to buy cat food!).
And I am grateful to all the Gaeilgeoirs (Irish speakers) emerging. It is a delight to see so many comments as Gaeilge (in Irish). I have a sense of community developing here. My heart sings. Together, le chéile, we can save the world and speak Irish!
Ó Bhaile Átha Cliath le grá (from Dublin with love),
Dian
P.S. As always, please let me know what you think! I’ve love to hear your thoughts in the comments. And please “heart” (like) and re-stack. Thank you for your support!
I love this. I have started learning Gaeilge to reconnect to my matrilineal ancestry - the language was lost four generations ago when my ancestors had to flee to Aotearoa New Zealand (a catholic married a Protestant in the rural northwest of Ireland and it didn’t land well in the community). I’m only four months in and already I feel the language changing me and healing generational loss and trauma. So excited to have subscribed to your work. Can’t wait to read more.
It is wonderful to read this piece, Dian! I plan to travel to Ireland for 9 days this spring through a learning community at my college (an environmental science course and a literature course)! I have already been looking forward to the opportunity to ground my feet on my mother's motherland for the first time, but receiving all these beautiful, hopeful ideas has multiplied my excitement exponentially!! I too, believe that our capacity to re-member ourselves and the interconnectedness of life is at the core of finding our way. Hearing about your experience learning the Irish language - that it is currently your greatest teacher - deepens my inspiration to continue learning (and remembering) Gaelic. I'm excited to read more of your work :)