Making a show of yourself

To understand the Irish way of life it is necessary to know what ‘making a show of yourself’ means. I have been asked countless times why we Irish appear so reticent in the ‘chapel’ and so exuberant at a football match or in the pub following a few drinks. The fact that we do not ‘celebrate’ when we attend liturgies appears out of character to those who are looking on at us as cultural outsiders. Part of the explanation is our national horror of ‘making a show of ourselves’.

It has been said that the big sin of native Gaelic culture was to put your head over the social parapet. An immediate cry of ‘Who does he think he is?’ would inevitably go up. It is an attitude that has rooted itself in our way of life; that is hard-wired into each of us who is culturally assembled in Ireland. Instead of admiring the volunteer who agrees to be spokesperson for the group or encouraging shy individuals to take their place or have their say at the communal meeting, the cultural consensus is to round on them with mockery, satire and verbal fire. ‘Slagging the life out of them’ is the contemporary name of the sport and ‘having a hard neck’ is the only legitimate defence.

‘Would ye look at yer man? He’s in everything but the crib’. The foolhardy person who ventures into public view generally knows the social price that he or she may pay. Another generation used to say “He is in everything but the Women’s Sodality” and if the boot or shoe was on a feminine foot; “She is in everything but the Men’s Confraternity”. Even venturing a seat further up the chapel could leave someone open to this kind of ridicule. As the changes in the liturgy took hold following the Second Vatican Council and lay-people began to read the Lesson or to distribute Communion at Mass, the floodgates were opened for those who wished to take a shot at the brave souls who risked the history of their past generations being hung out to dry. The ‘back of the chapel’ attitude dies hard.

‘He is making a holy show of himself’ can mean many things, from indulging in mildly embarrassing behaviour to the downright scandalous. It is only a little less serious than ‘making a show of all of us’. This latter term, ‘all of us’ generally means the family, whose honour and public reputation is thought to be in danger from the public ‘show’ that is being exhibited. Any kind of behaviour that does not conform to the expectations of the family and the village can be construed as ‘making a show’. Making an ‘eejit’ of yourself moves the action up the scale of offensiveness and implies gross stupidity, whether of a permanent or passing kind.

In Italy, ‘making a show’ is the name of the social game. The Italian idea of ‘La Bella Figura’ involves drawing positive attention to oneself by ‘cutting a dash’ as an exact English person might say. The Nigerians whom we now encounter daily in Ireland generally have no problems with ‘making a show’ of themselves either. The manner and flamboyance of their Sunday dress calls unapologetic attention to themselves and they have no problem in taking the front seats at a public event; participating fully in the life of a group or giving full and vigorous expression to their emotions in public.

There is a deep fear in the Irish psyche of ‘losing the run of yourself’. This usually means getting over-emotional or losing control of oneself. It is a trait we share with our nearest neighbours to the East. There is often a certain stiffness to our physical expressions. Africans complain that we come to church and sit like un-moving statues. Even when our physical movements are expressed stylistically, in Irish dance for example, they retain a certain stiffness or rigidity. We are not given to extravagant physical gestures like kissing both cheeks of an acquaintance that we have unexpectedly but happily met in a public square. The Irish person who tries to introduce such Continental habits in the village will find that the recipients of his greetings will feel ‘mortified’; struck socially dead by the antics of someone who is, ‘making a total show of themselves’.

Is it any wonder that poor Brian Cowan tried to shield his face from public view when the tactile Monsieur Sarkozy held his hand tenderly in public recently and then kissed Ireland’s honour not once but twice, on both substantial cheeks, in full view of the media and of the whole mortified country?