Place
Physical geography of the coast was the most easily distinguishable aspect of “place”, though by no means did it encompass a comprehensive picture of the area. Because we had arrived at Kilcommon Lodge at night, we had no idea what the landscape would look like, and morning was a beautiful surprise. Long stretches of field, hills – both bare and covered with old trees, and down near the sea: cliffs, dunes, and bog. The nature walk that we took with Simon on the first morning helped to begin unfolding what this place meant. Simon talked about the geographic history of the Erris Peninsula, telling us stories about shipwrecks off the wild coastline, the famine wall, and how inhospitable the soil was for growing anything. He also told us about the marine life, mammals, and birds that live in the area – a thriving ecosystem for such a wind-whipped wilderness.
As we continued to meet with people and listen to their words, it became clear that there was a deeper meaning attached to each feature of the land that we saw. Vincent McGrath and Micheal O’Seighin spoke with us about the significance of naming; naming things and places helped to orient ancient people and also connected them with the place. Different names also had different nuances, because, as Micheal said, those with the power get to name. Choosing to use one name over another can indicate one’s loyalties and position, and may have political implications, so names are always not taken lightly. Vincent’s work with mapping aimed to restore many of those old names, to help connect present Erris with the past. I thought of the United States while we were discussing this, and how many places have been re-named from their older, Native American names.
Meeting with the Corduffs, and reading sections of The Rossport 5 illustrated to me how these two things – surface, or physical, geography and a ‘deeper’ geography (I don’t think the two are ever really mutually exclusive) – come together to form a personal narrative rooted in the land. The Corduffs said that the boggy soil and harsh weather make it difficult for much to grow, and unless it is deliberately planted and tended, the crop or vegetable won’t produce – all farmland is reclaimed bog; reclaimed by hand. One person told us, “You won’t take anything from the land that you haven’t put into it.” It struck me that through meticulous cultivation day in and day out, farmers and those who live off of the land or the sea have a sort of conversation, and thus a relationship, with the physical geography of Erris. That really stayed with me; it helped me to understand attachment to place a little bit better, and the way in which a threat to the land or sea can easily become a personal threat, as well.
People and Community
The community was diverse; insiders as well as outsiders were living in a small space, all linked together by the Corrib conflict and, it seemed to me in many cases, a shared respect for and defensiveness of place. I was wondering about this insider/outsider dynamic, and whether it caused tension. Betty, our hostess, told me that the Solidarity Camp members helped to boost up the spirits of locals and other activists. If they were not wanted, they would not be here, she told me. Afterwards, I spoke with Lanka, one of the members of the Camp, about the conflict and its repercussions within the community. She said that the most tragic thing for her to see was the split it had created amongst the inhabitants of the area.
People were very willing to speak about the importance of place for them, and the way that the community’s personal landscape had been affected by this project. Mary Corduff spoke about the way that their lives had been absolutely changed the past ten years. They woke up early to go protest, afraid that if they didn’t go one day, Shell would win. She spoke about living with a feeling of weariness and the fear of defeat. If Shell succeeded, she didn’t know what they’d do. Betty spoke to me about the sense of appreciation and love that maybe one wouldn’t have if one grew up in the area. She chose to come here, she said, and thus she also has a deep attachment to the place. It is her adopted home. Micheal, Vincent and Treasa all imparted deep historical knowledge and through that sought to reinforce the importance of place. Through mapping, knowledge and telling of the area’s myths, and providing a place to practice and learn the language of the place, Irish, they were preserving the area’s heritage.
Meeting with representatives from Shell was difficult after being in the affected community; I felt very defensive and ready to be angry. The truth was, though, that Shell’s PR people were just that – people. They had their own histories, struggles, and biases. Christy’s son is a Garda, so it makes sense that Christy would be wary of protesters and concerned for his son’s safety. This is by no means any excuse for police brutality, but I understand a father fearing for his son’s wellbeing.
Conflict
The conflict only became more complex – at times even paradoxical – when I arrived. I was glad to have gotten an overview before we arrived in Mayo, but like many people talked about during de-briefing, visiting and speaking only muddied the waters. I thought that I would come away with a clearer picture, but I only got a more complicated picture. More issues arose as people voiced their concerns to us. The main issues are twofold, it seems; these are health and safety, and political and ideological. These two veins of thought encompassed many other questions and issues. Most people we talked to agreed that the conflict was not a pro/anti gas conflict, and that gas is a necessary reality, but it was instead a dispute about the way in which the project had decided to proceed. What the project had succeeded in doing, it seems, is give a small number of the community unsustainable work (though Shell’s definition of “local community” is a little bit questionable to me, as it encompasses all of Mayo), and has reinforced the feeling among the Erris community that the government has little concern about their livelihoods.
The Shell PR response to many of these questions seemed compelling enough – that the project would provide jobs for the local community; that Shell had a keen interest in building a sustainable community and showed its involvement by offering scholarships to schoolchildren and businesses; that the majority of people are for the project in its current form; and that it is impossible to hold talks with local community members when they will not listen. They assured us that there had been much community consultation before the beginning of this project. However, Shell was clearly not interested in seeing the project in a historical, political, and environmental light. Wrestling with the ideas of place and community are not easy, and multinational corporations are in the business to make money, not friends. That much was made clear during our visit to the processing plant and the question and answer session afterwards.
I feel that nothing I write will adequately portray the way I perceived that week in Mayo. I had difficulty writing this; I felt that addressing each part separately would help me to focus on each thing, but in trying to separate them, I realized just how connected each component is to another. Micheal told us that the environment, the land, these things are not separate from the community and historically never have been. Seeing this first hand was an intense experience.
Perhaps the only certainty I’ve taken from this experience is this: nothing good or helpful can happen when people are dehumanized and reduced to stereotypes, when they are marginalized and left out of dialogue. This is especially problematic when it comes to Shell, as Shell is not a person, but a corporation – a faceless force. But that force is made up of many people. In the midst of conflict, it is easy to demonize the other side –whether it is Shell reducing dissenting locals to eco-terrorists, or something else – but I do not think that it is ultimately going to help. I do not know if people can build bridges on their common humanity alone, but I do believe it is worthwhile to try.
