On the 23rd of November 2023, a knife attack in Dublin City Centre precipitated what the Gardaí described as the most violent public disorder event in modern Dublin history – the Dublin riots. It was largely controlled and directed by a few online far-right agitators. So how did we get to this? Ó Ruairc attempts to elaborate by weaving an unbroken historical thread stretching over one hundred years. He connects the Fascio Di Dublino (1923), an Irish branch of Mussolini’s National Fascist Party based around Werburgh St. and Chancery Lane numbering around two hundred members, to our modern-day National Party and the staggering Coolock Says No appearance at a Far-Right protest in Belfast.
Fascio di Dublino
In June 1923 Professor Camillo Pellizzi, a lecturer at London University, was appointed the chief controller of the Fascisti movement among the Italian communities in Britain and Ireland. On a visit to the Fascio Di Dublino he asserted that “More than half the Italians in Dublin are enrolled in Fascisti.” Fascio Di Dublino was soon to open small branches in Belfast and Derry. Although their activities were largely limited to participation in Catholic ceremonies and embassy celebrations, and commemorations on The March on Rome, Jim Larkin warned them in his newspaper the Irish Worker; “…We would only warn all members of the Dublin Fascisti that … strike breaking, union breaking, intolerance and bigotry are too common in Ireland at present and outside supplies are not required…” Having made little to no impact in the Irish political arena, the group finally disbanded in 1943.
The British Fascisti
Following this, Rotha Lintorn-Orman’s British Fascisti (1923) found it easy to gain a foothold in the Loyalist community in Ireland. There was a pre-existing tradition of racism, religious sectarianism, imperialism and ultra-conservatism within the ideology of Unionism that had been propagated across the British Empire. However, their strong anti-Irish doctrine ensured they were never going to get the relatively broad support enjoyed by the Blueshirts a decade later.
The Dublin branch of the British Fascisti was established within a few months of the parent organisation and according to James Loughlin in his ‘Fascism and Constitutional Conflict’, it appeared to have between twenty and thirty active members. The national membership figure was estimated to be over a thousand and was made up primarily of former British Army officers and imperialists. Renamed British Fascists, their decline began when Oswald Mosley’s invitation for them to merge with his New Party (later renamed the British Union of Fascists) was rejected by Lintorn-Orman. This caused a major schism that was followed by the majority of members resigning and joining Mosley’s party.
Mosley and the Ulster Fascists
Though largely absent from Irish politics, Mosley established a puppet organisation called the Ulster Fascists in April 1934. His failed attempt to organise a merger between them and the Blueshirts resulted in 200 Ulster Fascists defecting to the Army Comrades Association. This quickly led to the collapse of the Ulster Fascists.
In the 1950s, Mosley made a further attempt to establish a branch of his new group The Union Movement in the south, but this and his overtures to the Republican movement were rejected. Jack McCabe, future Quartermaster General of the PIRA told the press; “Fascism is our deadly enemy with which there can be no compromise, no more than with any other form of imperialism.” A fire, reportedly set by local IRA volunteers thwarted Mosley’s plan to retire to Clonfert Palace in Galway and this would have been the end of him in Ireland had it not been for his bizarre appearance on Gay Byrne’s Late Late Show in 1975. Byrne’s ingratiating interview was thankfully interrupted by a Jewish woman in the audience who asked the hard questions. Shamefully, this occurred at a time when members of Sinn Féin were barred from the airwaves.
Blueshirts and Fine Gael
It’s no surprise that Ó Ruairc devotes 75 pages to the Blueshirts and Fine Gael. He uses them to good effect both by highlighting the extremism and violence of the movement, often downplayed by other historians and by tracing the first rumblings of Fascism in the civil war government to the whitewashing in the early 2000s of Eoin O’Duffy and the Blueshirts from the Fine Gael website. He argues that a strong fascist tendency existed from the foundation of the Free State, long before the arrival of the Blueshirts and that this went hand in hand with members of Cumann na Gaedheal spreading anti-Semitic conspiracy theories.
On the 12th of January 1923, at a meeting in Leinster House the Postmaster General J.J. Walsh informed his colleagues that; “Our military organisation is not able to finish the job. There have been no improvements in the last three or four months. What we want in this situation is to organise Fascisti!”. His call was rejected, but later, he was a vocal supporter of Nazi Germany and helped bankroll Ailtirí na hAiséirghe, a small Nazi-supporting Irish fascist group in the 1940s.
When the Anglo-Irish treaty was signed in 1921, Irish Republicanism fractured. A disparate group made up of communists, Fenians, conservative Catholics, trade unionists and others, once held together by a common goal, now had to choose sides. Those that supported the treaty were largely the most conservative and right wing of the Republican movement. These were the very people who now held the reins in government so it is no wonder that anti-semitism and calls for a Fascist state became common in government circles. Arthur Griffith, founder of Sinn Féin and Free State Minister for Foreign Affairs was a vocal anti-semite and once wrote “The Jews of Great Britain and Ireland have united, as is their wont, to crush the Christian who dares to block their path or to point them out for what they are — nine tenths of them— usurers and parasites of industry.”
Robert Briscoe, the only Jewish TD in the Dáil was subjected to anti-semitic harassment from members of Cumann na nGaedheal for a number of years. He was accused of being part of a cabal of Irish Jews responsible for the assassination of Michael Collins, and of being part of a global Jewish plot to take control of the Irish economy. After Fianna Fáil came to power in March 1932 Fine Gael TD for Cork West James Burke called for “minority rule through Fascism”, and another Fine Gael Minister Patrick McGilligan advocated for a dictatorship to defeat “the Irregular and Bolshie situation” he believed existed because of Fianna Fáil.
Ahead of the 1932 General Election, the Catholic Church rowed in behind Cumann na nGaedheal by issuing a bishop’s pastoral to warn of a campaign of revolution and communism from Sinn Féín, and that if it was left unchecked it would be the ruin of Ireland. It was in this climate, one week before the election, that the Army Comrades Association (ACA) was founded. Its president and founder, Col. Austin Brennan, had served as an officer in the IRA’s East Clare Brigade before joining the Free State Army. Its stated purpose was to campaign for pension rights for ex-soldiers. Within five weeks it was announced they had 87 branches in 24 counties.
With the election going Fianna Fáil’s way, the Commissioner of the Garda Síochána, Eoin O’Duffy, began to organise a coup d’état that was destined to fail, yet within a year, on the 20th of July, he was to become the leader of the ACA. He immediately renamed them the National Guard. With O’Duffy at the helm the Blueshirts would quickly become a full on fascist movement. On the 3rd of April 1933 Fine Gael – The United Ireland Party was founded. It was a merger of the ACA, Cumann na Gaedheal and the National Centre Party. In August, before the inaugural meeting, O’Duffy was approached and offered the leadership, which he agreed to. Within a year O’Duffy became a political liability. His militant outbursts and the increased violence at his rallies were an embarrassment to the party and after 13 months as leader he resigned. Ó Ruairc clearly relishes the final pages of the chapter as he charts the attempts by Fine Gael to remove history from the Junior Cycle and to airbrush O’Duffy and the Blueshirts from their official records.
The Greenshirts and the Irish Bandera
The misadventures of O’Duffy’s Greenshirts in Spain fill the bulk of the next chapter. These were the ‘Irish Brigade’ that fought on Franco’s side in the Spanish Civil War. Beginning with the non-arrival of a ship at the docks in Dublin, leaving hundreds of volunteers behind, to their first action which saw them kill 13 and lose 4. All to friendly fire.
The Irish Bandera quickly established a reputation for drunkenness, ill-discipline and sexual violence. A Spanish major was assaulted and a Spanish priest, who lectured them on the evils of alcohol was shot later that night. An Irish priest who ministered to them described O’Duffy’s men as ‘soft … limp, spineless, worthless’.
When O’Duffy refused an order to advance on Titulcia for a second time after a disastrous attack the previous day, it spelt the end of his brief and inglorious service to Franco. Tim Fanning, in his book The Salamanca Diaries (2019) tells us that when General Yague arrived a few days later and after an inspection of the Irish Bandera he recommended the immediate disbandment due to, among other things, military incompetence.
German Nazis in Ireland and Irish Collaborators
Ó Ruairc’s approach to this chapter feels distinctly different to the previous ones. While clearly it required extensive research, it comes across as somewhat cobbled together. Understandably, in a chapter with such a broad scope, there is a lot to fit in. However I think it would have benefitted with less emphasis on some subjects and more on others. Adolf Mahr and Seán Russell, arguably the two most interesting characters, are thankfully given significant attention.
Mahr was the Senior Keeper of Irish Antiquities in the Irish National Museum and also the first leader of the Irish branch of the German Nazi Party. In 1941 he became Director of the German radio station Irland-RedAktion, broadcasting nightly to Ireland.
Ó Ruairc argues, though some may disagree, that Séan Russell was not a collaborator but was a collaborationist, that he sought military assistance from Nazi Germany for strategic reasons, but was not a supporter of Nazi ideology, yet he admits there was a “… rightward drift in the IRA’s politics under Russell’s leadership”. This is indisputable. By 1940 An Phoblacht was publishing anti-Semitic material.
Post War
This chapter dealt with the Dublin riots of 23 November 2023 with reference to reports and social media from that time, although it unfortunately lacks much additional analysis of what was behind the events of that evening. Still, when looking at the chapter in its entirety it doesn’t disappoint. Ailtirí na hAiséirghe, Aontas Náisiúnta, Maria Duce, Terrence Byrne’s NSIWP. The list goes on. Most are given a few paragraphs but some, like the National Party, are explored in more depth.
The book consistently highlights the attempted suppression of left-wing movements, so as to preserve the existing economic and social order which is tied to capitalist structures. Another recurring theme is the fear of loss, or dilution, of cultural identity. Fascist motivations and fears today remain the same, economic anxiety, diversity and the fear of a radical redistribution of wealth.
Historically, the Church lent support to Irish fascist movements, undoubtedly conflating their appeal, yet Ireland has always been strongly anti-fascist. Today the Church no longer has the power to sway the population nor indeed a mandate to try. Events and political dog whistles may still draw support but there is not going to be an influx to the far right because a Bishop issues a pastoral. Those Catholics inclined to a fascist ideology are already part of the movement.
So are the modern-day Irish far right capable of attracting the type of mass mobilisation the Blueshirts commanded or are the conditions simply not present in today’s Ireland? The book doesn’t answer these questions but what it does is show us that from the time of the British Fascisti in Ireland came the beginnings of an anti-fascist movement. Communists, trade unionists and Republicans standing together. By the time of the Blueshirts, the anti-fascists often outnumbered them.
In conclusion, Pádraig Óg Ó Ruairc’s “Burn Them Out!” is more than just an historical account, it is a wake-up call. By documenting Ireland’s history of fascism and the constant presence of far-right ideologies, Ó Ruairc compels us to confront the reality that Ireland is not immune to the spread of hatred and prejudice and that the past often provides lessons for the present.
