For too long, some parts of the conversation around Irish unity have remained shackled to the past — framed as a binary struggle of ethno-nationalist identities, Catholic versus Protestant, Irish versus British. But if we are serious about creating a new Ireland — one that speaks to the lived realities of 21st-century life — we must reimagine unity as a project rooted not in historical grievance, but in cultural inclusion, shared values, and the radical acceptance of diversity.
The Ireland of today is not the Ireland of 1916 nor should it be. The days of a homogenous, Gaelic, Catholic Ireland are over; if they ever truly existed. Today, over a million people in the Republic were not born on this island, and around one and a half million people live in the North, many of whom identify as British, Unionist, or neither. Our challenge now is not to absorb these populations into an old model of Irishness, but to build a new republic that integrates both the new Irish and those historically outside the structures of the Republic.
In many ways, it’s sad to say that Dolores O’Riordan’s famous, ill-informed line in Zombie — “It’s the same old theme since 1916”— remains painfully apt. The South has often ignored the North, while the North has been paralysed by the politics of fear. But what if the new Ireland wasn’t a repetition of the old theme? What if the next Irish Republic looked less like 1921 and more like a modern European democracy —pluralist, forward-looking, and confident?
This question goes to the heart of a growing division within the wider Irish republican movement. Some argue that unity must wait until we fix pressing problems in healthcare, housing, and immigration. Others believe that unity is the solution to those very problems — that systemic transformation can only come through political renewal. It’s a debate mirrored in the North, where centrist parties like the Alliance and SDLP often argue for creating a prosperous, harmonious Northern Ireland first, with unity considered only when conditions are “right.”
But why can’t we do both? Why not prepare for unity while addressing urgent challenges? Why not imagine a republic that doesn’t merely redraw borders, but reshapes what those borders mean?
Some will say such change is impossible—that asking today’s politicians to embrace this level of transformation is like asking turkeys to vote for Christmas. And yet, change is already happening. Ireland is becoming more diverse, more secular, more European. Yes, bad actors amplify fears about immigration, but the truth remains: the vast majority of Irish people, North and South, are still white and nominally Christian. The demographic shifts underway are evolutionary, not revolutionary. The real question is whether we meet this change with fear or with vision.
To Unionists who fear being “swamped” by nationalism, let me say this plainly: there is no desire to return to an Ireland of the 1920s. That world is gone. And within Northern nationalism, there is a growing recognition that we too are products of partition. Our education, healthcare, media, and popular culture have all been shaped by British systems. Our sense of identity is more complex than flags and borderlines. Many of us, like the diaspora in Britain, are bilingual in our cultural fluency. We can relate to both Irishness and Britishness without contradiction.
Culture, then, must be the engine of unity. Unionism has nothing to fear from modern Irish culture. Indeed, it may find more in common with it than expected. In the same way, other cultures can find their home too in a progressive diverse Ireland.
The Republic is no longer an exclusive space. Even by the 1980s it had already absorbed the likes of Phil Lynott, Samantha Mumba, and Chris Hughton in a high profile context and African or Asian hospital workers in a quieter way. It can do the same for the many faces of modern Ireland’s newcomers. Race, creed, and class need not be barriers to belonging. America, despite its tensions, has shown how a multicultural identity can be forged — though we should also learn from its mistakes.
Northern Ireland, in fact, has much to teach the Republic. Having long existed as a periphery of Britain, it has lived with multiculturalism longer and can offer valuable insights into integration, inclusion, and the dangers of right-wing populism. The North should not be seen as a problem to be solved, but as a vital contributor to shaping the island’s future.
But maybe there is also a deeper issue — confidence. Or rather, the lack of it. The Republic too often seems afraid: afraid of change, afraid of being “taken over,” afraid of what a new Ireland might demand of its institutions. And Northern Unionism is haunted by its own fear of absorption and erasure. What both sides need is cultural confidence — the courage to believe that Irishness, in its richest form, can be expansive rather than exclusionary.
I’ve written before about the parallels between Northern Ireland today and South Korea in the early 2000s. When I taught there as a younger man, Korea felt like a society brimming with youth and potential, yet oddly hesitant to assert its own cultural modernity. Japan dominated the regional cultural conversation. But I believed then, as I believe now about Ireland, that the key to progress lies in embracing your own story — in moving beyond imitation to expression.
The North, similarly, needs to embrace its Irishness — not in any narrow or prescriptive sense, but in the creative, cultural, and inclusive sense that makes space for everyone. We are no longer the Latin-Mass Catholics or the Covenant-signing Protestants of a century ago. Those people are gone, and while history leaves traces on every aspect of our lives, it doesn’t define us.
We must move toward a three-part Ireland: the Republic, the North, and those with an overseas connection — whether the long-standing diaspora or the new Irish who have moved here in recent years. These communities, though diverse in background and experience, share a stake in shaping Ireland’s future. A new republic must serve as a fulcrum, drawing all three together. It must be a place of more than just flags or anthems. It must be a framework that allows diverse communities to thrive without surrendering their identities.
In the end, unity will not come from census statistics or referendums alone, despite that being the essential legal mechanism. It will come from a compelling vision —one that shows people not what they will lose, but what they will gain. That vision must be rooted in multiculturalism, inclusion, and culture. Only then can we move from the rhetoric of “us versus them” to a shared story of “we.”
The post-ceasefire generation, many of whom are now in their thirties, live in the present. They are not bound by the traumas of the past in the same way. But if we fail to act, if we fail to offer them a republic worth inheriting, we risk colonising their future with our unresolved past.
The times are changing. Let’s make sure we change in the right direction.
Dr. Paul Breen is a Fermanagh native and academic at University College London.
For too long, some parts of the conversation around Irish unity have remained shackled to the past — framed as a binary struggle of ethno-nationalist identities, Catholic versus Protestant, Irish versus British. But if we are serious about creating a new Ireland — one that speaks to the lived realities of 21st-century life — we must reimagine unity as a project rooted not in historical grievance, but in cultural inclusion, shared values, and the radical acceptance of diversity.
The Ireland of today is not the Ireland of 1916 nor should it be. The days of a homogenous, Gaelic, Catholic Ireland are over; if they ever truly existed. Today, over a million people in the Republic were not born on this island, and around one and a half million people live in the North, many of whom identify as British, Unionist, or neither. Our challenge now is not to absorb these populations into an old model of Irishness, but to build a new republic that integrates both the new Irish and those historically outside the structures of the Republic.
In many ways, it’s sad to say that Dolores O’Riordan’s famous, ill-informed line in Zombie — “It’s the same old theme since 1916”— remains painfully apt. The South has often ignored the North, while the North has been paralysed by the politics of fear. But what if the new Ireland wasn’t a repetition of the old theme? What if the next Irish Republic looked less like 1921 and more like a modern European democracy —pluralist, forward-looking, and confident?
This question goes to the heart of a growing division within the wider Irish republican movement. Some argue that unity must wait until we fix pressing problems in healthcare, housing, and immigration. Others believe that unity is the solution to those very problems — that systemic transformation can only come through political renewal. It’s a debate mirrored in the North, where centrist parties like the Alliance and SDLP often argue for creating a prosperous, harmonious Northern Ireland first, with unity considered only when conditions are “right.”
But why can’t we do both? Why not prepare for unity while addressing urgent challenges? Why not imagine a republic that doesn’t merely redraw borders, but reshapes what those borders mean?
Some will say such change is impossible—that asking today’s politicians to embrace this level of transformation is like asking turkeys to vote for Christmas. And yet, change is already happening. Ireland is becoming more diverse, more secular, more European. Yes, bad actors amplify fears about immigration, but the truth remains: the vast majority of Irish people, North and South, are still white and nominally Christian. The demographic shifts underway are evolutionary, not revolutionary. The real question is whether we meet this change with fear or with vision.
To Unionists who fear being “swamped” by nationalism, let me say this plainly: there is no desire to return to an Ireland of the 1920s. That world is gone. And within Northern nationalism, there is a growing recognition that we too are products of partition. Our education, healthcare, media, and popular culture have all been shaped by British systems. Our sense of identity is more complex than flags and borderlines. Many of us, like the diaspora in Britain, are bilingual in our cultural fluency. We can relate to both Irishness and Britishness without contradiction.
Culture, then, must be the engine of unity. Unionism has nothing to fear from modern Irish culture. Indeed, it may find more in common with it than expected. In the same way, other cultures can find their home too in a progressive diverse Ireland.
The Republic is no longer an exclusive space. Even by the 1980s it had already absorbed the likes of Phil Lynott, Samantha Mumba, and Chris Hughton in a high profile context and African or Asian hospital workers in a quieter way. It can do the same for the many faces of modern Ireland’s newcomers. Race, creed, and class need not be barriers to belonging. America, despite its tensions, has shown how a multicultural identity can be forged — though we should also learn from its mistakes.
Northern Ireland, in fact, has much to teach the Republic. Having long existed as a periphery of Britain, it has lived with multiculturalism longer and can offer valuable insights into integration, inclusion, and the dangers of right-wing populism. The North should not be seen as a problem to be solved, but as a vital contributor to shaping the island’s future.
But maybe there is also a deeper issue — confidence. Or rather, the lack of it. The Republic too often seems afraid: afraid of change, afraid of being “taken over,” afraid of what a new Ireland might demand of its institutions. And Northern Unionism is haunted by its own fear of absorption and erasure. What both sides need is cultural confidence — the courage to believe that Irishness, in its richest form, can be expansive rather than exclusionary.
I’ve written before about the parallels between Northern Ireland today and South Korea in the early 2000s. When I taught there as a younger man, Korea felt like a society brimming with youth and potential, yet oddly hesitant to assert its own cultural modernity. Japan dominated the regional cultural conversation. But I believed then, as I believe now about Ireland, that the key to progress lies in embracing your own story — in moving beyond imitation to expression.
The North, similarly, needs to embrace its Irishness — not in any narrow or prescriptive sense, but in the creative, cultural, and inclusive sense that makes space for everyone. We are no longer the Latin-Mass Catholics or the Covenant-signing Protestants of a century ago. Those people are gone, and while history leaves traces on every aspect of our lives, it doesn’t define us.
We must move toward a three-part Ireland: the Republic, the North, and those with an overseas connection — whether the long-standing diaspora or the new Irish who have moved here in recent years. These communities, though diverse in background and experience, share a stake in shaping Ireland’s future. A new republic must serve as a fulcrum, drawing all three together. It must be a place of more than just flags or anthems. It must be a framework that allows diverse communities to thrive without surrendering their identities.
In the end, unity will not come from census statistics or referendums alone, despite that being the essential legal mechanism. It will come from a compelling vision —one that shows people not what they will lose, but what they will gain. That vision must be rooted in multiculturalism, inclusion, and culture. Only then can we move from the rhetoric of “us versus them” to a shared story of “we.”
The post-ceasefire generation, many of whom are now in their thirties, live in the present. They are not bound by the traumas of the past in the same way. But if we fail to act, if we fail to offer them a republic worth inheriting, we risk colonising their future with our unresolved past.
The times are changing. Let’s make sure we change in the right direction.
Dr. Paul Breen is a Fermanagh native and academic at University College London.