At a recent sitting of the Comhairle Comhaltas na Mac Léinn, the matter of decolonisation was discussed at length. The need to decolonise university curriculums is a common theme of students’ union and academic debate, but in the case of Ollscoil na Gaillimhe we have a striking physical representation of colonialism on our doorstep that surprisingly few students know about.
A cut-stone representation of the coat of arms of the United Kingdom stands sandwiched between a small memorial garden and a bit of staff car parking at the rear of the Quad. Ironically enough, one of the few people who sees it every day is the President of the University, as their office overlooks the gigantic structure. The coat of arms, which depicts the British crown, English lion, and Scottish unicorn, is mentioned as a feature of note on information panels in the Quad and online (alongside Sonic the Hedgehog). The question remains however, what does the ornament have to do with us?
The Victorian crest was not an original feature of the University but was instead the centrepiece of the County Courthouse’s portico. Photographic and newspaper evidence suggest the crest was moved to the university at the end of War of Independence, c.1922-23. And there it has stood for over one hundred years at this stage, relatively unnoticed by most. There is a notable lack of historical signage and physical commemoration on campus, and the selection of the crest to represent the university’s “Imperial Past” obscures some incredible personal histories that could be commemorated in its stead. The coat of arms represents a point of divergence in history between the institution and its students. Even within the “imperial” Quadrangle, there were acts of resistance against empire.
The auditor of the Lit & Deb in 1913, Conor O’Malley, noted that the University had “given many good men to the British Empire, but it has not done much for Ireland.” Thomas Dillon, of lecture hall fame, was appointed Professor of Chemistry in 1919 (while imprisoned in Gloucester) and served as a Dáil Court judge, a direct challenge to the courthouse our eponymous crest used to sit on. Another professor, Liam Ó Briain, was also imprisoned, having previously served with the Irish Citizens’ Army in 1916. The complicated legacy of the 140 students and staff who fought in WW1 could also be examined in greater detail.
The violence of the War of Independence came right to the walls of the university, with Sult playing a particularly dark role in the conflict. Michael Moran was a student in Galway and a prominent member of the Tuam IRA, who was captured in November 1920. On Nov. 24th, Moran was in transit between the Eglinton Street Barracks (now the back of Hole in the Wall) and a detention camp on Earl’s Island (now the O’Donoghue Centre/Sult) when he was killed by Auxiliaries on dubious grounds of attempted escape. Another student, John Green, survived being beaten and then shot in Salthill by two Black and Tans in 1921. When we look at Sult, the Barracks and shell factory are visibly commemorated through large images, but the memory of Moran and other students have yet to be physically commemorated in the same way.
The War of Independence is only one example of how we can interact with history better as a student body, especially with regards to students’ history. Returning to decolonisation, there could be room in the future for students (and hopefully the SU) to tell our own history of the university, less caught up in grey halls and prestige, and more focused on the ongoing story of resistance, success and challenge that Galway students have been going through since 1849. Perhaps the time is now right for Galway students to take pride in and celebrate their own history, distinct from the institution, especially given the University’s refusal to end their contract with Technion. As for the coat of arms, a piece of student artwork could definitely liven up the piece. Perhaps a giant, one-legged Smokey the Pigeon perched atop the crown, engaging in the most traditional of pigeon practices. I hear that stuff’s lucky.
