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Ireland's political and cultural magazine
5 4 April 2016
T
he Irish Times has had a mixed 1916
commemoration. Even its own audi-
ences seem hardwired to expect a
certain bias from the newspaper of
reference, but one particular decision
– or probably a non-decision no one ever
thought to check for unfortunate implications
– certainly didn’t help.
For its 1916 anniversary issue the paper pro-
duced a replica cover from 100 years ago, but
decided to cut the original banner headline:
‘Sinn Fein Rebellion In Ireland’.
The page-two explanation – that broad-
sheets aren't what they used to be, and the
resized 2016 dimensions (half the size of the
1916 original) meant the original would no
longer fit in its entirety and, although it had
been shrunk somewhat, any further reduction
in print size would render it unreadable, and
something had to go… convinced some, but left
others unimpressed. If space was the only
issue, then why leave two mastheads on the
front page, one modern and one vintage?
Assuming the plausible explanation that it
was a design decision, and nothing more, the
online row it generated speaks much about the
perceived trust issues the paper has with its
audience. Irish Times journalists are prone to
complain that their paper is often held to a
higher standard than others, and that may be
the case, but it is also a backhanded compli-
ment. Its readers expect more from it, and are
therefore more inclined to complain when it
does not live up to expectations. The Irish imes
garners complaints because what the Irish
Times says matters to its in a way that most
other newspapers do not. Being an opinion
leader comes with a price.
Twitter media accounts come in two flavours.
There are those that engage, joining in conver-
sations with followers over the stories of the
day, even on occasion adding their contribu-
tions to the joke of the day on the medium, and
there are those that broadcast, casting their
bread upon the waters for others to consume,
but never acknowledging that the audience is
talking back.
Irish Times’ editor Kevin O'Sullivan falls into
the latter category. His twitter stream is a list of
links to articles he finds it worth highlighting,
mostly from his own publication, occasionally
from farther afield.
While it is assumed that O'Sullivan curates
his own Twitter account, he does not engage
with his followers online, or share his thoughts
on the news of the day, beyond a brief "interest-
ing" or “scintillating" appended to a story link.
And since he does not share his thoughts in
detail, the only insight into the thinking of the
man helming the paper of record derives from
the stories he deems worthy of sharing.
Irish Times 1916 coverage, as highlighted by
its editor in the period from Patrick's Day to the
end of Easter Week, was colourful and varied,
with thinkpieces by regular and occasional col-
umnists (Fintan O'Toole on Shaw and Casement;
Niall O'Dowd on the American input to rebel-
lion; though oddly, no one expurgating the
German contribution).
Beyond this, the Irish Times chose to repro-
duce a letter from Francis Sheehy-Skeffington
to Thomas MacDonagh making a case for paci-
fism, an offbeat Q&A by cynical Frank McNally:
“To question the Rising is to be found guilty of
unIrish activity”, Eunan O’Halpin was mean
about the Proclamation (“a speech not a Proc-
lamation”), atheist Donald Clarke goaded that
it didn’t need to be atheistic, and Miriam Lord
wished fervently that we could hold an Easter
party every year. Diarmuid Ferriter appeared
here and there with as usual more good history
than acute insight.
Some ideas that sounded like cringe-induc-
ing embarrassments, such as the new
proclamations created by schoolkids, gener
-
ated genuine wonder. What does it say of a
modern nation if children are calling for an end
to homelessness while ministers hide behind
constitutional guarantees of private property?
On the new-media side, a particular highlight
must be the Irish Times’ Women's Podcast on
Margaret Skinnider, volunteer, sniper, school-
teacher, trade unionist, and would-be hotel
bomber (of the Shelbourne - the newspaper’s
readers may have pondered that it might as well
have been the Irish Times itself).
The Irish Times has even produced a book
called unexcitingly the 'Irish Times Book of the
1916 Rising'.
And then there was its own 2016 Proclama-
tion, with dodgy prose: “First among our values
is the belief that every citizen must have both
[sic] the legal, civic [sic] and political rights nec-
essary for full citizenship”, but a progressive
core: “we commit our governments to a continu-
ing process of reducing inequality”.
If schoolchildren came out with a simple
vision of an Ireland where no one is homeless,
the Irish Times’ editorial proclamation for 2016,
attempting to cherish all its children equally,
had the look of a family Christmas tree, with
everyone adding their favourite bauble to the
decorations until it became top-heavy, over-
flowing with good wishes, inclusiveness, and a
feelgood spirit that made it look like an out-of-
shape heavyweight next to the Spartan
declaration of a century ago. Perhaps a little
like the Irish Times itself.
The Irish Times won
its struggle for trust
on the Centenary
Sibh Féin
by Gerard Cunningham
The Irish Times’
Proclamation was top-
heavy like an out-of-
shape heavyweight
MEDIA
