The Sacred Egoism of Sinn Féin — Text and Context

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Boyd, Ernest Augustus, 1887-1946 Project Gutenberg 2010 Not confirmed
Sinn Fein; Ireland -- Politics and government -- 1910-1921 Readers of public-domain and historical texts
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Words 14,136
Reading time 62 min
Text sections 2

The catalog record for The Sacred Egoism of Sinn Féin — Text and Context provides practical reading context through 14,136 words, 1 hr 2 min estimated reading time, and 2 detected text sections.

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A 1918 polemic by Ernest Augustus Boyd (writing as Gnathai Gan Iarraidh) that dissects the rhetoric of altruism surrounding small nations, focusing on Sinn Féin's rejection of Allied war narratives and its isolationist stance during World War I.
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Ireland had long been a subject of melancholy reflection in those quarters devoted to international altruism of a not too personal kind. Even the British Liberal found an occasional tremor in his voice as he contemplated the state of Irish affairs, and remembered his own virtuous conduct of the case for self-government in Ireland. That voice, however, broke into sobs of indignation only when uttering judgments upon the iniquities of men further from home, and his enthusiasm for so proximate a victim of imperialism was checked by the tangible and daily proofs of his own futility, less evident where his plea concerned a more remote beneficiary. Distance lends enchantment to the Liberal view of international politics. For that reason it is natural to find the strongest expressions of commiseration for Ireland outside the precincts of the Island Race, and, in fact, the Irish people have been accustomed to derive considerable satisfaction from the manifestations of good-will which they have received from Continental countries. The sympathetic foreigner, when not an Englishman, is spared the suspicions which his ignorance of the actual facts might have earned for him, for both parties are likely to be at a mutual disadvantage in this respect. Moreover, the claim of a Frenchman, for example, is overwhelmingly reinforced by the knowledge of material assistance rendered, none being so introspective as to question the motive of those historic replies of the French nation to the call of Ireland. In return, did not Ireland alone distinguish herself in 1870 by a far-sighted rejection of Prussianism, at a time when the Hun fought for the recovery of Alsace amidst the plaudits of the politicians, statesmen, and, above all, the moralists of Anglo-Saxondom? When the Irish organized a brigade to assist France against Prussia, the obstructionist and condemnatory attitude of the British Government seemed only further proof that Ireland's real friends must not be sought in England. These reciprocal manifestations of international appreciation are the definite crystallization of a sentiment confirmed in Ireland by the fact that British and West British scholars have singularized themselves by an indifference and hostility respectively towards the language and civilization of the Irish nation. Continental scholars, on the other hand, have displayed an interest in Gaelic studies which cannot but induce in the Irish people a comforting sense of their own dignity and importance.

Everything, therefore, has combined to give Ireland a belief in her own international identity, and, recollecting her ancient grandeur, she has felt entitled to the sympathy which her subsequent misfortunes have earned amongst all disinterested students of a history by no means negligible in the evolution of European civilization. When the great Allied crusade for the liberation of small nationalities began, and the world resounded to the cries of protest against the tyrants of subject races, the Irish people were touched by this dramatic vindication of their age-long contention. For a brief period the scepticism of centuries made way for a degree of faith sufficient to bring a number of distinguished Nationalists into the ranks of England, and under their impulse Ireland--as distinct from the West Britons--contributed what has remained her military share in the conflict. The "loyalists," of course, were relieved at the opportunity of exchanging the dubious pleasures of mutiny and gun-running for the more sonorous activities of a war for freedom. Having scotched political self-determination at home, they became seized of a praiseworthy ambition to confer that denied benefit upon the unenlightened foreigner. As for the mere Irish, they gradually realized the symbolism of this loyal gesture, the Ulsterior motive became apparent: the war was on behalf of the small nations, but one had been forgotten. What is one amongst so many, it may be asked? But the Irish could not rise to that level of almost divine impartiality which is the natural sphere of the Britisher when he has decided to right a wrong. The relative importance of Ireland could not be as apparent to an Irishman as to his benevolent conqueror.

Ernest Augustus Boyd, writing under the pseudonym Gnathai Gan Iarraidh, opens The Sacred Egoism of Sinn Féin with a sardonic dismantling of the "cult of altruism" that emerged after August 1914. He observes that small nations, once ignored, became props in a propaganda machinery controlled by the same imperialists who had previously opposed their liberty. The book's title itself is a pointed inversion: sacred egoism is presented not as a flaw but as a necessary self-regard in the face of hypocritical rescue narratives.

Boyd's prose is sharp and aphoristic, as when he notes that "distance lends enchantment to the Liberal view of international politics." He draws on Irish history to argue that sympathy for Ireland is strongest among non-English foreigners, while British Liberals reserve their indignation for distant oppressors. The excerpts show a writer who prizes irony and concrete political analysis over sentimental nationalism.

The Rhetoric of Rescue

Boyd devotes the opening chapter to exposing the language of altruism as a "controlled industry." He notes that Blue Books, White Papers, and "inspired press propaganda" have replaced genuine advocacy for small nations. The phrase "sacred egoism" itself is a rejoinder to the sanctimonious tone of Allied war rhetoric. Boyd argues that Ireland had long been a "subject of melancholy reflection" for international altruists, but that this concern was always tempered by the tangible evidence of British Liberal futility at home.

He reserves particular scorn for the way atrocity stories are received in Ireland: speaking of Belgian or Serbian suffering merely "suggests analogies from Irish history." The Irish reaction to such propaganda is "unexpected"—not pro-German, but indifferent. Boyd's diction is precise: he calls the Liberal's voice "broken into sobs of indignation" only when judging distant iniquities, while his enthusiasm for proximate victims is "checked by the tangible and daily proofs of his own futility."

Isolation and Its Ironies

A central observation in the excerpts is Ireland's intellectual and geographical isolation from the European war. Boyd claims that "the pathetic dreams of Liberal forward-lookers, the pious platitudes of Dr. Woodrow Wilson, and the prize-fighting rhetoric of embattled bureaucrats and newspapermen fall alike upon deaf Irish ears." The alliteration and rhythmic listing underscore his contempt for these voices.

He notes that even the Russian Revolution aroused only "passive, almost academic interest" until Lenin and Trotsky mentioned Irish freedom. Then Sinn Féin spokesmen sent congratulations to the Bolsheviks, despite the capitalist press's execration of Irish "Bolshevism." Boyd points out the irony: these patriots, like their forerunner Mitchel, "would unhesitatingly sacrifice modern civilization if there were no other means of striking England to the dust." The quotation from Montégut is used to frame Irish nationalism as principled but strategically naive.

The Britisher's Blindness

Boyd devotes a section to the incomprehension of the British public, whom he calls "the Britisher, sympathetic or otherwise." He describes a recurring scene: a naive Liberal inquires with "plaintive optimism" whether the Irish can appreciate the seriousness of a German victory, and is met with composure and a polite refusal to accept any belligerent's triumph. This attitude, Boyd argues, exasperates the British more than outright pro-Germanism.

He sharpens his critique by targeting intellectuals who "profess the use of reason" yet demand the same patriotic devotion from foreigners that they expect from their own countrymen. The imposition is "intolerable" when made by those who denounce the secret treaties that formulated Allied aims, yet insist on the moral superiority of the Allies. Boyd's syntax here is complex, piling up clauses to mirror the contradictions he dissects.

Diction and Disdain

Throughout the excerpts, Boyd's authorial choices reveal a polemicist who values precision and irony. He uses compound adjectives like "atrocity-mongering" and "prize-fighting rhetoric" to deflate official language. His sentences often build to a pointed climax: "the embarrassment of the impartial is not diminished by this demand upon their credulity." The word "credulity" is key—Boyd frames the Allied narrative as a test of gullibility.

He also employs historical allusion, citing Montégut on Mitchel to draw a parallel between nineteenth-century nationalism and contemporary Sinn Féin. The structure of his argument is cumulative: each paragraph adds a layer of evidence for Irish detachment, from the reception of atrocity stories to the response to the Russian Revolution. Boyd's voice is consistently caustic but controlled, never descending into rant. His pseudonym, Gnathai Gan Iarraidh (Irish for "customs without demand"), hints at the book's ironic stance.

Readers approaching The Sacred Egoism of Sinn Féin should attend to Boyd's rhetorical strategies: his use of irony, his precise diction, and his habit of turning received phrases against their users. The book is not a history of Sinn Féin but a polemic against the language of international altruism. Boyd's evidence is drawn from contemporary political discourse, not from party documents. His perspective is that of an observer skeptical of all official narratives, whether British, German, or Irish.

I found myself thinking this afternoon about that 1918 Boyd polemic, how its fierce insistence on a nation’s own story still lingers. It made me wonder how those same arguments echo in quieter voices, collected elsewhere. I pulled out Political Pamphlets — Key Ideas to Explore and just sat with the old paper smell, tracing familiar frustrations.

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