‘Fenian ring’ trend is latest example of the pitfalls of defining ‘Irishness’ in opposition to ‘Englishness’

 

For the past while, Ireland has been having a bit of a moment, and I don’t just mean that our actors and celebrities have been enjoying their flowers on the international stage – though they certainly have – I’m referring to the increased popularity of Irish culture itself, particularly here at home. 

  The trend is evident across the board, with renewed interest in Gaeilge (coupled with recent success stories for Irish-language music and cinema, like ‘Kneecap’ and ‘An Cailín Ciúin’), younger people putting a ‘modern twist’ on trad music and Irish dancing, and the increasing popularity of clothing and accessories brandishing Irish-related symbols, from Guinness logos to the classic shamrock, with perhaps no more on-the-nose example out there than the ‘Symbols of Eire’ scarf that’s begun to saturate Irish streets and social media feeds in recent weeks.

  Another example of this latter phenomenon is the Claddagh ring. Although it goes without saying that the Claddagh ring – one of, if not, the most popular and beloved pieces of traditional jewellery we have – never really went anywhere in the first place, no more than our language and music, the ring has been experiencing a bit of a renaissance as of late.

  Named after the small Galway village it is believed to have originated from, and presumed to have been an evolution of the European fede ring, the Claddagh ring, depicting two hands cupping a heart with a crown on top of it, is iconic. It’s a beautiful design and one that’s rich in meaning; each of the Claddagh’s three elements carries its own symbolism – the hands for friendship, the heart for love, and the crown for loyalty – and there is further symbolism to be found in how the ring itself is worn – on the right hand with the heart facing out if single and in if in a relationship, or on the left hand with the heart facing out if engaged and in if married.

  As such, it is little wonder that the ring began to take off in popularity over the last year, once it started doing the rounds on social media and began to reach a whole new set of people who fell in love with it.

  What made less sense however, was the trend that started popping up even more recently – with videos circulating in the past couple of months showing proud Claddagh ring owners taking a saw to their piece of jewellery to cut off one of its three iconic symbols: the crown.

  According to these posters, the idea was to “decolonialise” their rings, taking away the “symbol of the English monarchy” and leaving all the good, presumably-Irish, love and friendship stuff, with the remaining hands-and-heart-only design dubbed a ‘Fenian ring’ (no prizes for guessing why).

  The only problem with this, of course, is that the Claddagh ring’s crown has nothing at all to do with the English monarchy.

  To the credit of those posters, the ‘Fenian’ Claddagh is not a new concept. The version of the Claddagh ring sans-heart (and the narrative around it) has been around for hundreds of years itself, and has long been available to buy directly from jewellers, without having to do the messy work of getting out the saw yourself. But crucially, the crown’s omission renders incomplete the three-part checklist for what makes a Claddagh ring a Claddagh ring; what’s left exists as a form of the original European fede ring. The crown, in that respect, could in fact be considered the part of the Claddagh ring that makes it uniquely Irish.

  Ultimately, the misunderstanding that spurred on this trend is exactly that: a misunderstanding. And besides, what a person decides to do with their own jewellery is entirely their own prerogative. If you prefer the look of the ‘Fenian ring’ over the Claddagh, that’s all well and good. But it is interesting that a movement so motivated by ‘reclaiming’ the Claddagh’s Irishness, is in fact rooted in a misreading of Irish history.

  There’s a tendency that’s been rearing its head more and more in how we talk about Irishness – particularly online – where Irish identity is often framed in opposition to Englishness. And while there’s an obvious historical rationale for that instinct, it’s worth asking whether defining ourselves by what we’re not – and indeed defining ourselves in reference to thing we’re supposedly trying to get away from – is really the most productive or authentic route forward.

  In the case of the Claddagh ring, cutting off the crown is supposed to be an act of symbolic rebellion, but if the crown has nothing to do with British rule, what exactly is being rebelled against? 

  As Irish culture becomes more visible and celebrated – both at home and abroad – there’s been a push to reassert control over what is and isn’t “authentically Irish.” And more often than not, this desire expresses itself through a binary lens: English = bad, therefore anything that seems associated with England = inauthentic, suspect, or corrupted, without any closer inspection. This leads to moments like the ‘Fenian ring’ trend, where the zeal for purification overshadows the historical nuance.

  What’s missing in these conversations is the understanding that Irishness is not a fixed or oppositional identity. It’s not just the negation of Englishness. Irishness has been shaped by colonisation, yes (and inarguably damaged by it), but also by a host of things totally apart from our links with Britian, by a rich expanse of culture, art, and values that predate our colonialisation. When we reduce Irishness to a reactionary posture, we risk flattening that richness. We risk alienating parts of our own heritage simply because they don’t fit neatly into a rebel narrative; like doing away with a distinctly Irish symbol that celebrates loyalty as a core value of Irish cultural expression.

  Colonial critique has a place – of course it does. But we do ourselves a disservice when we wield that critique without accuracy or care, or when we try to score cultural points by ‘calling out’ imagined links to Englishness that don’t actually exist. Irishness is not defined by anti-Englishness, and the story of Irishness is compelling enough without needing to be cut down with a jeweller’s saw.