Kevin Bean was born on 14 February 1955 in the Medway town of Chatham. His father was an electrician in the Dockyards, where his mother worked as a cook. Kevin’s father was a Kentish man of Irish descent, a Left Labour Party member and shop steward. Kevin’s mother was one of many hundreds of thousands of Irish people who emigrated to Britain during the 1940s and 50s. A proud Irishwoman with family ties to Brittas, County Dublin, Madge McGowan exerted a powerful influence over Kevin’s intellectual and political life.
Kevin’s family formed part of the post-war generation of workers – British born and migrant – who staffed Britain’s hospitals and factories, ran the buses and railways, dug coal, built roads and houses, and rebuilt bombed out cities. Like many of their generation, they saw in the project of building the new Jerusalem a powerful affirmation of the capacity of ordinary men and women to govern and make the world anew. Theirs was a vision of democratic socialism still inspired by optimism in the human potential that had been stifled by the old political elites, whose rotten systems, based on fear, greed, and exploitation, had created the conditions for mass unemployment and war.
Unsurprisingly, Kevin joined the Labour Party while in his teens. More surprisingly perhaps, he remained as a continuous member – through various degrees of activity – until his expulsion in 2020.[1] Above all, however, it was the configuration of pride in his familial links to Ireland and his coming of political age at the moment of the disintegration of the Stormont regime that nurtured a lifelong passion for history and a revolutionary consciousness of human freedom as the primary goal of political struggle. Kevin became an early member of the Irish in Britain Representation Group and remained a life-long supporter of Irish freedom.
Kevin was an able and hardworking scholar, winning a place at the local grammar school. Like many working-class children of his generation, he was among the first in his family to attend University – shortly to be followed by his younger sister Patsy. Theirs was a home filled with books and political pamphlets, in which education and knowledge were prized, not as a means to an end, but for their own sake.
Possessing a naturally dissenting mind, Kevin forged his own political path from an early age. As one of its brightest and best, the school invited him to become Head Boy. It was an honour he refused, on the grounds that he could never take office by appointment but only through election by his peers. Kevin’s Irish republicanism and socialism were both rooted in the universalist ideal of democracy and he remained true to that principle all his life.
Kevin studied History at Leicester University, then moved north to teach in schools on Merseyside, then later at Nelson and Colne College and Calderdale College in Halifax. He completed his MA at the Liverpool Institute of Irish Studies going on to publish his dissertation about the IRA ceasefire, ‘The New Departure? Recent developments in Republican strategy and ideology’. His argument that republican thinking was in transition then informed his PhD and resultant groundbreaking book: The New Politics of Sinn Féin, which Kevin dedicated to the memory of his mother.
The New Politics of Sinn Féin explores the ideological transformation of Provisional Republicanism during the 1990s from revolutionary challenger to partner in government. Firmly rejecting both Northern Ireland exceptionalism and the ‘betrayal’ approach to history, the book positions Republicanism within the broader framework of post-Cold War politics and the emergence of international peace processes at ‘the end of history.’ Meticulously researched and written in Kevin’s measured and searching style, The New Politics of Sinn Féin is an important book, as relevant today as ever. It is also a great read, filled with lively interviews and speculations and flashes of wry humour.
Kevin was a socialist and Irish republican but never an ideologue. He was inspired to political thought and action by the noble struggles of the democrats and revolutionaries, those who took up the banner of Lilburne and the Levellers, the Jacobins, the United Irishmen, the men and women cut down at Peterloo in 1819, the Chartists in the 1840s, the Labour movement of the industrial revolution, the Fenians and the Irish Citizen Army.
A dedicated trade unionist and tireless organiser, he wrote extensively for academic and political journals and spoke at conferences, political meetings as well as in schools, continuing education classes and for community groups. In recent years, Kevin became a regular contributor to the Weekly Worker and an incisive commentator on the present demoralisation and future outlook for the Left and the task of rebuilding a Left party and programme. In politics, as in religion, he was never shy of dissenting from dogma but always did his best to keep faith with the congregation.
Kevin was great company and took immense pleasure in good food and drink in the company of family, friends, and strangers. Known to his colleagues as ‘a great man for the pub, a lover of good ale and darkened back rooms and a terrific storyteller’, he was always carrying a newspaper – a habit acquired as a schoolboy when he started reading the Financial Times. His study was notoriously untidy, stacked high with newspapers, books and boxes of papers, but he famously scrubbed up well, often to be seen sporting Irish tweeds and well-polished brogues, finished off with one of his signature hats.
Kevin’s request for a Catholic funeral mass came as no surprise to family and friends of long standing. His early life and politics had been shaped by the common rituals and universal claims of the church. He remained deeply attached to Catholic forms of religious expression in music, art and architecture and moved by the beauty and grandeur of Catholic ritual. On our visit to Rome last December, he recalled Goethe’s thoughts that in seeing the Sistine Chapel one appreciates the wonders that humanity can achieve. That visit to see Michelangelo’s masterpiece would be Kevin’s last trip abroad.
Kevin loved walking, exploring Europe and travelling on trains. He loved music and we regularly attended concerts at the Liverpool Philharmonic. His taste in music was catholic – from Monteverdi and Bach to the Wolfe Tones, Dolly Parton and the Louvin Brothers and almost everything in between. Music was a constant presence in his life and in the lives of his children, who particularly recall the songs playing in the car during childhood trips to Ireland. Kevin’s comrade Tayo Aluko sang Kevin Barry and the Ballad of Joe Hill at his committal, and we said our final farewells to Sting’s Fields of Gold.
Kevin died peacefully at his home in Liverpool on 12 October, just after 7 in the morning. That morning had begun, as his mornings always began, looking forward to a new day. New things happening in the world, to read, talk and write about; new plans to make, books to read and battles to be fought. His illness had placed many physical limitations on him, but it never defeated Kevin’s love of life, nor could it extinguish his hopes for each new day.
Just after he died, two carers from the Marie Curie team called to the house to pay their respects and to say how much they had enjoyed their daily visits and how much he would be missed. To the very end of his life, Kevin retained his sense of humour and his interest in the lives of everyone he met, believing that every life and every minute of the day mattered. It is his courage in the face of a long and debilitating illness, his warm smile, laughter, sense of humour and generous sharing of ideas, knowledge and books that will always be remembered.
‘None of us lives to himself and none of us dies to himself.’
Kevin’s life expressed the full meaning of these words.
My heart goes out to his sister Patsy, his children from his marriage to Susan – Kathleen, Bernadette, Teresa, and James-Joseph – and his five grandchildren.
Slán agus ádh mór, Kevin. Goodbye and Good luck! You will never be forgotten.
A celebration of Kevin’s life will be held on Friday 24th January 2025, from 6.00pm at the Casa Bar, Hope Street, Liverpool L1 9BP. All welcome.
Kevin Bean was born on 14 February 1955 in the Medway town of Chatham. His father was an electrician in the Dockyards, where his mother worked as a cook. Kevin’s father was a Kentish man of Irish descent, a Left Labour Party member and shop steward. Kevin’s mother was one of many hundreds of thousands of Irish people who emigrated to Britain during the 1940s and 50s. A proud Irishwoman with family ties to Brittas, County Dublin, Madge McGowan exerted a powerful influence over Kevin’s intellectual and political life.
Kevin’s family formed part of the post-war generation of workers – British born and migrant – who staffed Britain’s hospitals and factories, ran the buses and railways, dug coal, built roads and houses, and rebuilt bombed out cities. Like many of their generation, they saw in the project of building the new Jerusalem a powerful affirmation of the capacity of ordinary men and women to govern and make the world anew. Theirs was a vision of democratic socialism still inspired by optimism in the human potential that had been stifled by the old political elites, whose rotten systems, based on fear, greed, and exploitation, had created the conditions for mass unemployment and war.
Unsurprisingly, Kevin joined the Labour Party while in his teens. More surprisingly perhaps, he remained as a continuous member – through various degrees of activity – until his expulsion in 2020.[1] Above all, however, it was the configuration of pride in his familial links to Ireland and his coming of political age at the moment of the disintegration of the Stormont regime that nurtured a lifelong passion for history and a revolutionary consciousness of human freedom as the primary goal of political struggle. Kevin became an early member of the Irish in Britain Representation Group and remained a life-long supporter of Irish freedom.
Kevin was an able and hardworking scholar, winning a place at the local grammar school. Like many working-class children of his generation, he was among the first in his family to attend University – shortly to be followed by his younger sister Patsy. Theirs was a home filled with books and political pamphlets, in which education and knowledge were prized, not as a means to an end, but for their own sake.
Possessing a naturally dissenting mind, Kevin forged his own political path from an early age. As one of its brightest and best, the school invited him to become Head Boy. It was an honour he refused, on the grounds that he could never take office by appointment but only through election by his peers. Kevin’s Irish republicanism and socialism were both rooted in the universalist ideal of democracy and he remained true to that principle all his life.
Kevin studied History at Leicester University, then moved north to teach in schools on Merseyside, then later at Nelson and Colne College and Calderdale College in Halifax. He completed his MA at the Liverpool Institute of Irish Studies going on to publish his dissertation about the IRA ceasefire, ‘The New Departure? Recent developments in Republican strategy and ideology’. His argument that republican thinking was in transition then informed his PhD and resultant groundbreaking book: The New Politics of Sinn Féin, which Kevin dedicated to the memory of his mother.
The New Politics of Sinn Féin explores the ideological transformation of Provisional Republicanism during the 1990s from revolutionary challenger to partner in government. Firmly rejecting both Northern Ireland exceptionalism and the ‘betrayal’ approach to history, the book positions Republicanism within the broader framework of post-Cold War politics and the emergence of international peace processes at ‘the end of history.’ Meticulously researched and written in Kevin’s measured and searching style, The New Politics of Sinn Féin is an important book, as relevant today as ever. It is also a great read, filled with lively interviews and speculations and flashes of wry humour.
Kevin was appointed lecturer in Irish Politics at the Liverpool Institute of Irish Studies in 2003, where he earned a reputation as a generous and supportive colleague and a brilliant and popular teacher. As one of his colleagues observed: ‘With Kevin’s passing, we have lost one of the nicest people to have taught at a British university.’
Kevin was a socialist and Irish republican but never an ideologue. He was inspired to political thought and action by the noble struggles of the democrats and revolutionaries, those who took up the banner of Lilburne and the Levellers, the Jacobins, the United Irishmen, the men and women cut down at Peterloo in 1819, the Chartists in the 1840s, the Labour movement of the industrial revolution, the Fenians and the Irish Citizen Army.
A dedicated trade unionist and tireless organiser, he wrote extensively for academic and political journals and spoke at conferences, political meetings as well as in schools, continuing education classes and for community groups. In recent years, Kevin became a regular contributor to the Weekly Worker and an incisive commentator on the present demoralisation and future outlook for the Left and the task of rebuilding a Left party and programme. In politics, as in religion, he was never shy of dissenting from dogma but always did his best to keep faith with the congregation.
Kevin was great company and took immense pleasure in good food and drink in the company of family, friends, and strangers. Known to his colleagues as ‘a great man for the pub, a lover of good ale and darkened back rooms and a terrific storyteller’, he was always carrying a newspaper – a habit acquired as a schoolboy when he started reading the Financial Times. His study was notoriously untidy, stacked high with newspapers, books and boxes of papers, but he famously scrubbed up well, often to be seen sporting Irish tweeds and well-polished brogues, finished off with one of his signature hats.
Kevin’s request for a Catholic funeral mass came as no surprise to family and friends of long standing. His early life and politics had been shaped by the common rituals and universal claims of the church. He remained deeply attached to Catholic forms of religious expression in music, art and architecture and moved by the beauty and grandeur of Catholic ritual. On our visit to Rome last December, he recalled Goethe’s thoughts that in seeing the Sistine Chapel one appreciates the wonders that humanity can achieve. That visit to see Michelangelo’s masterpiece would be Kevin’s last trip abroad.
Kevin loved walking, exploring Europe and travelling on trains. He loved music and we regularly attended concerts at the Liverpool Philharmonic. His taste in music was catholic – from Monteverdi and Bach to the Wolfe Tones, Dolly Parton and the Louvin Brothers and almost everything in between. Music was a constant presence in his life and in the lives of his children, who particularly recall the songs playing in the car during childhood trips to Ireland. Kevin’s comrade Tayo Aluko sang Kevin Barry and the Ballad of Joe Hill at his committal, and we said our final farewells to Sting’s Fields of Gold.
Kevin died peacefully at his home in Liverpool on 12 October, just after 7 in the morning. That morning had begun, as his mornings always began, looking forward to a new day. New things happening in the world, to read, talk and write about; new plans to make, books to read and battles to be fought. His illness had placed many physical limitations on him, but it never defeated Kevin’s love of life, nor could it extinguish his hopes for each new day.
Just after he died, two carers from the Marie Curie team called to the house to pay their respects and to say how much they had enjoyed their daily visits and how much he would be missed. To the very end of his life, Kevin retained his sense of humour and his interest in the lives of everyone he met, believing that every life and every minute of the day mattered. It is his courage in the face of a long and debilitating illness, his warm smile, laughter, sense of humour and generous sharing of ideas, knowledge and books that will always be remembered.
‘None of us lives to himself and none of us dies to himself.’
Kevin’s life expressed the full meaning of these words.
My heart goes out to his sister Patsy, his children from his marriage to Susan – Kathleen, Bernadette, Teresa, and James-Joseph – and his five grandchildren.
Slán agus ádh mór, Kevin. Goodbye and Good luck! You will never be forgotten.
A celebration of Kevin’s life will be held on Friday 24th January 2025, from 6.00pm at the Casa Bar, Hope Street, Liverpool L1 9BP. All welcome.
[1] For an account of Kevin’s work as the elected secretary of Wavertree Constituency Labour Party see ‘At the very storm centre’, Weekly Worker, 31.10.2024 and Kevin Bean 1955 – 2024 | PHIL MAXWELL