We were just settling into our house in the west of Ireland when tragedy struck. On October 7, 2022, there was an explosion at a petrol station in the village of Creeslough in County Donegal. The exact cause of the explosion is unknown, but it occurred at location that was the center of a village of about 400 people. The area destroyed included apartments over a retail area, including a convenience store with a deli counter, a post office, and a hair salon. In all 10 people died and eight were injured.
The day of the tragedy, RTE news (Ireland’s national public media) ran the story, which was sobering. As the victims were identified by name and the news accounts (both print and television) went into detail about who these people were and what they meant to their community. Viewers learned their names, their hopes and aspirations, and the contributions they made. We also learned that Creeslough would never be the same. The magnitude of the tragedy was clear and articulate. I didn’t know those who were lost, but I appreciated the depth of loss that others felt.
At no point during the first days of the tragedy did anyone attempt to explain why the explosion happen. It was not until the funerals ended that the Garda Siochana investigation became the focus of the story, but only as an afterthought to the stories of loss. There is an ongoing investigation, and various causes were ruled out. It appears to have been a gas leak, but at the time of this writing, there has been no official cause.
The week after the tragedy, a condolence book appeared in the main entrance of the university where I teach. There was a photo of the deceased, a candle, and draped table with a large blank book where students and staff were invited to write condolence messages.
When I first saw the book, it brought home the proximity of our campus (in County Mayo) to the location of the disaster (County Donegal). There are probably students from Donegal studying at our campus. But then I read a news report of condolence books opened across the republic and in Northern Ireland.
I first heard of condolence books after Prince Diana died in 1997, but this was the first time I saw one in practice. They remind me of the on-line condolence pages common now for funeral homes in the U.S. where you can read the obituary, see a photo of the deceased, and leave a message for the family. The Creeslough books will be returned to the families of the deceased, but these memorials seem to be as much for the mourning pubic as the families.
The Irish response to this tragedy could not have been more different from what I would have expected in the U.S., and this distinction points out a major difference between our countries. Condolence books, and their public position in schools, churches and county council buildings remind the community well beyond the village of Creeslough of the tragedy, and that this terrible loss of life has repercussions well beyond Donegal. These were real people who were loved, not strangers or statistics. The books point that that the loss of these people is worthy of the nation’s grief. They should be remembered.
Meanwhile, back at home in the U.S., there have been at least three widely publicized mass shootings, two in my home state of Virginia. As I read the news coverage, I watch as the shooting victims—also real people who had lives, friends and were loved by their families and communities—are reported on and then fade from the news cycle. Even as the victims are remembered, there is always an attempt to answer why the shooting happened, as if that answer can or should make sense of the devastation and loss. In 2023, there have been 600 mass shootings in the U.S. That’s two mass shootings a day. Some resulted in fatalities, others did not. Can you imagine if the U.S. were to place condolence books for gunshot victims? We’d spend all the hours of the day filling those pages.
This is where I can hear folks saying, “Well, Ireland is a small country.” Yes, it is about the same land size as the state of Indiana and has a similar size population. But this isn’t about the size of the country, but the way people respond, or fail to respond, to the deaths of our fellow citizens. In the U.S., we could stand to grieve a bit more for this senseless loss of life. If we did, perhaps we would be more motivated to actually do something about gun violence.
Ireland is a distinct and special place. It’s not perfect, but there is much to learn by the way the Irish respond to tragedy and loss.
What an insightful and tragic contrast. Stateside culture certainly does sweep the humanity of it under the rug in favor of the attempt to answer why.