This Christmas, many Irish parents will huddle around their smartphones and tablets for video calls with faraway children in Australia and North America. Zoom, FaceTime and the rest have changed the emigrant experience – but nothing changes the most frequent reasons for leaving.
Between waves of economic necessity, Irish emigration is still often linked to love, work or hopes of a different lifestyle. The other most common denominator to long-distance emigration, one that is rarely discussed, is Ireland’s persistent monolingualism. Many Irish people find their adoptive home in Sydney or Sacramento a good fit because – for all the cultural differences – the locals speak the same language.
Yet much of what Irish emigrants prize in Australia – a better work-life balance, lower costs and a cheerier climate – can be found in continental Europe.
France, Italy and Spain are on Ireland’s doorstep, one time zone away, with no visa requirements or other hurdles to master.
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Not so in the US, where the welcome mat – as some Irish immigrants may soon discover – can be shaken out and taken back inside at any time. Australia is a welcoming place, until it isn’t. Scott Morrison was within his rights as Australian prime minister to show foreign nationals the door in 2020 as the pandemic struck. “Our focus and our priority is on supporting Australians,” he added. Any EU prime minister who tried the same stunt with Irish or other European residents in their country would be breaking the law.
The European welcome mat has been out for decades, yet generations of young Irish view the Continent mostly as a brief holiday destination because of what is euphemistically called “the language barrier”.
Let’s be clear: this language barrier is not them, it’s us. It’s the product of the monolingual mind, trapped in an English-speaking ivory tower, where the few windows offer only views of the UK and more far-flung anglophone countries. Ireland is part of a globalised, interconnected world yet still leans on the lazy colonial logic that the whole world speaks English – or should.
That mentality was a factor in a recent European Commission report, showing how young Irish adults are the least likely in the EU to have a foreign language.
Where three quarters of those sitting the Leaving Certificate a decade ago took a language exam, today it’s two thirds. It’s a disappointing outcome for recent efforts to push modern languages. A programme to teach modern languages at primary level has been taken up by just 0.25 per cent of primary schools. At second level, meanwhile, foreign languages remain optional. It can be a struggle, teachers say, to balance students who have tried a modern language at primary with those who haven’t. Teaching resources, to offer students a choice of languages, remains a problem. Move to third level and many university courses that offered modern languages as standard back in the 1990s, including technical subjects, no longer do now. Just around 9,000 graduates, 4 per cent of third-level students, take a modern language.
Retaining our self-imposed language barrier keeps in place a mind-lock that has convinced generations of Irish people that there are no decent jobs to be had between here and Melbourne
Four per cent. For an outward-looking country with an export-led economy, is such stoic monolingualism pragmatic – or reckless?
We know the country is uniquely exposed to Trump 2.0 tariffs and US company reshoring. We know the risks of pinning the country’s fiscal future and prosperity on a handful of US companies. Are we aware of the risks of being English-only? If Irish companies need to diversify, and fast, they will need to speak their customers’ language if they want sales.
Things may need to change quickly. Micheál Martin, the incoming Taoiseach, is a trained teacher, a committed European and a Gaeilgeoir who knows first-hand how an extra language opens the mind to new perspectives and opportunities. Simon Harris – as a former minister for further and higher education – knows the third level landscape well.
Like other Irish politicians who have fanned out around Europe for St Patrick’s Day, Harris and Martin have met countless European Irish citizens who upend the cliche that – as native English-speakers, traumatised by learning the Irish language – we can’t learn another. Any of these people are in on a secret: the time, effort and expense to learn another language are real – but finite. Not so the time, effort and expense of the Ireland-Australia trek. It remains an open-ended and expensive effort – not to mention an environmental disaster.
A new language initiative – real money, real commitments, real joined-up thinking – would not just benefit our young people and reduce economic exposure. If Ireland-based multinationals could hire multilingual Irish graduates rather importing them, it could ease the squeezed housing market.
Embracing modern languages is not about breaking new ground but embracing our past. 2026 marks 250 years since the world’s first modern language teaching chairs – in French, German, Italian and Spanish – were established in Trinity College Dublin in 1776. Reviving language teaching would not be a burden but a declaration of independence. Retaining our self-imposed language barrier keeps in place a mind-lock that has convinced generations of Irish people that there are no decent jobs to be had between here and Melbourne.
Particularly at this time of year it is moving – and a little sad – to know how many Irish people with a deep connection to “home” (GAA jersey sales in Australia have doubled in the last five years) are unable to visit easily.
Eventually many will return from Australia or North America with additional skills and perspectives that enrich Ireland. But distance keeps many away for good, and their families distant. Unlike being Irish in Berlin or Bordeaux, you can’t just hop across from Brisbane.
Today’s Irish parents have a choice. They can lift the language barrier by pressing their politicians and schools for real, practical language education. Or they can watch their grandchildren grow up in Sydney through a smartphone.
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