BARACK Obama visits Ireland for the first time as president, I am reminded of a simple gesture of kindness that altered the course of American history.
In October 1960, Dr Martin Luther King jnr was roused from bed in the middle of the night on trivial charges stemming from his protests against racial segregation. King was denied bail and sentenced to four months of hard labour in a Georgia prison camp, which many feared he might not survive, either by lynching or by a convenient “accident”. This was not, on the turbulent surface of the times, John Fitzgerald Kennedy’s problem. The Massachusetts senator was locked in a close race for the White House. If he had any chance to win, he needed to keep the support of white Southern Democrats – Southern Democrats who, for the most part, hated everything that Martin Luther King stood for.
Yet JFK, without a flicker of cynicism, picked up the phone and called King’s pregnant wife, Coretta, offering her comfort and his help. When Kennedy’s campaign managers found out, they were livid and figured it a thoughtless act that could well cost the election.
But empathy is a powerful energy in the art of politics. It is a signpost of deep character. And it is this depth of character that has been displayed for a couple of centuries by generations of African Americans and Irish Americans – two people, deeply and properly linked.
From the start, landing in Shannon Airport, we had a wonderful time. I even enjoyed navigating the roundabouts and driving on the opposite side of the road. (Being an inexperienced driver of New York City origins, I actually didn't find it as difficult an adjustment as I could have -- or as daunting a prospect as I should have!)
This was before the Celtic Tiger -- the period of tremendous economic growth, starting in the mid- to late 1990s, that brought many immigrants to Ireland -- and so, for most of our visit, I was the darkest thing in town. At our first pub crawl in Bunratty, one guy just kept patting my hair and exclaiming, with a broad smile, "Michael Jackson!"
And overall, that kind of open-faced, even endearing racial cluelessness typified my experience there. I felt very comfortable, and my mother and I happily explored the food, culture, history and incredible scenery. We also enjoyed playing "spot a black person" (usually unsuccessfully) as we drove into town. Most of my more sobering experiences probably had more to do with my being an obvious outsider than with being black.
In Enniskillen, a town in Northern Ireland, I was stopped by a police officer and asked for identification and what I was doing there. But given the town's history with the IRA and its existence along the border with the Republic of Ireland, perhaps they had particular reason to be security-conscious. (This was before the cease-fire of 1994.)
He recounts when "'green' and 'black' fought alongside each other" in the American Revolution and cites Frederick Douglass' escape to Ireland from Baltimore's fugitive slave laws.
"Together, they worked the most dangerous and back-breaking jobs," O'Malley writes. "Together, they built from muscle, music and dream the land that would become a reflection of themselves."
His writing echoes Obama's own speech in Ireland this week.
“The two countries are bound by history, affection and bonds of friendship," Obama said. "Irish blood is spilled on our battlefields... Irish sweat built our cities... there’s always been a little green behind the red, white and blue.”
O'Malley circles back to Kennedy and Obama in the conclusion of his 1,000-word piece.
"It was 50 years ago this month that Kennedy's younger brother, Robert, publicly predicted an African American could be elected president within the next 40 years," he wrote. "Two months later, a baby boy named Barack Obama was born in Hawaii. His mother told him he could be president one day. She was right.
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