You know how to get the desired result with a survey or census? You just need to ask the right selection criterion. Say, proving that the Irish are the most populous community on the planet is as easy as pie. To do this, we will count only... redheads. And therefore, setting aside secondary details, I dare say: the Irish are the same as Russians, only they speak in a strange way. This similarity is at least in three guises. Excessive daring when interacting with intoxicating drinks. Letting off accumulated stress through bursts of humor and self-irony, which almost always save when "dark forces oppress us viciously." Drawing inner strength from a fatalistic perception of everything that happens, since every time it is correlated with the experience of predecessors and placed in the context of History. That very History, which in both quantitative and qualitative terms was so abundant for both peoples.
...George, the driver of the minibus assigned to our group of journalists, who put on gloves when getting behind the wheel with such an air as if he were heading to the opera, first thing in the morning asked: how did you spend yesterday evening? Since we had arrived in Dublin the day before already in the dark, and reached the hotel after nine in the evening, it was easy to assume the most boring end to the day. But undiminished curiosity still lured us at about half past ten to the Temple Bar area - the center of drinking establishments with an intricate lineage and a regular clientele, not counting visitors like us. George approved of our choice. But then he briskly asked when, having tasted Guinness and listened to Irish folk songs, we returned to the hotel. My sly answer "We don't remember exactly" hit the mark. Old George laughed contentedly and added in the instructive tone of an old-timer: "That's right. That's how it should be." And then he continued performing the functions of a volunteer guide he had usurped, explaining along the way: this is the former parliament building, and this is Trinity College, where the British used to not allow Irishmen within a cannon shot, on the right you see the Guinness brewery, and we are driving along the embankment of the River Liffey...
In the end, there was a hitch: several of our journalists were cut off by security in the press center of Dublin Castle, where meetings of foreign ministers were taking place. Meanwhile, we had to keep to the schedule so as not to be late for the flight. George was visibly nervous. But suddenly, having received some message on his cell phone (we only later learned that another car would pick up our colleagues), he decisively started the engine and rushed into the traffic. And at that, in a feigned stern tone, he threw over his shoulder: "The rest, sorry, will have to get there by swimming..."
A sense of humor is considered in Ireland as a measure of worth. It is enough to quickly glance at the announcements in the "Personals" section of a local newspaper to see that this very quality is especially valued by single people of both sexes. Martin, 37, is looking for "a pretty girl with a good sense of humor." James, 29, is also looking for "a woman with a good sense of humor." On another page: "A divorced lady, 51, would like to meet an honest, hardworking, non-smoking gentleman with a good sense of humor for a long-term relationship." And 30-year-old Patricia, among her virtues, mentions not only that she is "a blonde with blue eyes," but also such qualities as "kindness, honesty, sincerity, and a sense of humor."
Another distinctive feature of the Irish, according to common belief and their own opinion, should be called "friendliness and hospitality" (that is a quote). The exception was a hurried and overcommitted capital resident who even crossed to the other side of the street just to avoid explaining to a lost traveler how to get to his destination. Thinking heads attributed this episode to the consequences of the advent in Ireland of the "era of materialism," implying the prosperity and affluence that has befallen them over the past ten years - there is now no time, one must think about career and self-affirmation, and it is a pity to waste time on foreigners who are, by definition, odd.
And yet this is an exception, not the rule: as before, a typical Irishman will not miss the opportunity to engage a foreigner in conversation, showing innate cordiality and artlessness.
From the series "Father Ted" many learned that when an Irish person asks you "Would you like a cup of tea?", you immediately fall into a trap: refusing is impolite, but agreeing means a humble readiness to become the subject of cross-examination right down to the hobbies of your grandniece and the reading preferences of your mother-in-law's cousin. What can you do if among the features of their national character are extreme curiosity and sociability.
I came across some amusing revelations on the Internet from a certain McDonald Lenny: "You sail on a ferry from London. A drunk Dubliner with a constant pint of beer persistently tells you his life story. Takes an interest in yours. Maybe order a Guinness too? You step onto Dublin soil already as friends: 'Bye Patrick, see you tonight!' And in the evening, to the sounds of a fiddle, the tapping of heels, and the noise of voices, you realize that every moment is beautiful, and this one especially. And no matter how much time passes, and wherever you are, Dublin is inside you. Just touch a string, and now it sounds: 'In Dublin's fair city, Where girls are so pretty...'"
Touching the strings of the singing soul of a vulnerable and at the same time stoic nation is not difficult; one just needs to understand the know-how. For example, the shortest path to winning the trust and initial sympathy of a neighbor at a pub counter might be an acquaintance with the common local expression "Circ-ing over Sha-on" - "Circling over Shannon". This phrase came into use after an episode with Boris Yeltsin, who on his way home from America was supposed to make a transit stop at this airport for a meeting with the Prime Minister of Ireland. His plane did not land on time, instead it began to "circle around and around" - while they tried to bring the president into a working state. They did not succeed. And the good-natured Irish, who call an ATM "drink-ink" - "a connecting point on the way to a drink", turned this curiosity into an integral part of their alcohol-laced mass folklore.
But let us move from carefree frivolity to their acute sense of historicism, awareness of belonging to a clan that has undergone extreme trials over the centuries. True, Horace Plunkett (judging by his writings, a thoughtful thinker) handed down a far from uplifting verdict for this trait and cast of mind: "Our habit of living in the past seems to deprive our present of any achievements, and our future - of hope." And the root of evil determining Irish "inefficiency" (his words) lies in the very character of the nation.
This became the subject of close study by Sean O'Faolain, who in 1947 published a book titled "The Irish: A Study of Character". One passage on page 139 deserves, in my opinion, a literal translation: "...the greatest curse of Ireland was not the invasion of the English or their bad government. It was the exaggeration of Irish virtues - our stubbornness, conservatism, incredible self-conceit, our ability to resist and endure punishments, our laughter, endurance, fatalism, commitment to the past, everything that, taken in considerable quantity, turns virtue into vice."
Returning to the reflections of Horace Plunkett on the need for what I would call the "Irishization" of the descendants of the Gaels, I want to cite a convincing apology I found for the careful preservation of national identity, with reference to the experience of a neighboring country, the former metropolis - Great Britain. "One cannot deny that pride in one's country, which the English justifiably feel, pride that is a derivative of education and knowledge of one's own history, directly determines the industrial superiority of England; pioneers of trade were very often motivated not only by the pursuit of profit, but also by patriotic sentiments." At the same time, London's colonial policy, Plunkett writes, was aimed at instilling in the Irish a sense of their innate inferiority and inadequacy, for which they "exterminated the feeling of healthy self-respect arising from the awareness of the worthy lineage of their nation and traditions."
The writer Harold Frederic, who became engrossed in analyzing the "mysterious soul" of the Irish Celt, allowed me to come to the conclusion that in the generalized portrait sketch he composed of the inhabitants of the "island of saints and poets", much is projected onto Russians, inhabitants of the far east of the European continent. "There, in Ireland, an amazing mixture of primitive ancient tribes was formed, cut off from the rest of the world by four seas, which were given the opportunity to create their own racial amalgam. Some brought with them as a great heritage Eastern mysticism. Others squandered this heritage, but the Irish, being left to themselves on their island, preserved and cherished it, erecting their spirituality on this foundation..."
Another similarity between the mentality of the Irish and Russians is discernible: self-examination, generated in part by contradictions immanently inherent in their character. "Among all peoples they are the merriest and the saddest, the most restless and the most obedient, the most talented and the most unproductive, the most practical and the most dreamy, the most devout and the most pagan of all. These incredible contradictions eternally war in their blood." Now tell me, for goodness' sake, whom does this psychological portrait, painted with broad strokes by the hand of the perceptive Harold Frederic, remind you of? It is no coincidence, and I have heard this from the lips of many Irish people who have become acquainted with Russian reality, that there are many points of contact. And this allows one to find contact more reliably than mere knowledge of English as a language of international communication. That is, to enter into psychological resonance, which helps save speech resources when seeking understanding. In a certain sense, Russians themselves are just as "red-haired" as the Irish.
Vladimir MIKHEEV,
magazine Europe.