Masculinities in revolutionary and post-revolutionary Ireland

The study of masculinities in Irish history is a relatively new but thriving field of inquiry. This collection, based on two symposia in 2016 and 2017 funded by the Irish Research Council, brings together scholars who examine masculinities in revolutionary (1912–23) and post-independence Ireland. Taking themes that encompass the First World War, the Rising, the War of Independence, the Civil War and the Free State, the authors highlight different historical moments where a gendered analysis of men and an interrogation of contemporary concepts of masculinity can provide new and illuminating insights into this turbulent time. One of the phases of modern Irish history that has received ample scholarly attention, the history of the Irish revolutionary years has not been significantly addressed from the point of view of masculinities and gendered norms for men. Far from being an “outdated concept” in Irish historiography as Tosh queried in 2011, this collection utilises his approach “where a perspective of masculinity” can be usefully applied to exploring gendered histories of the revolution and beyond.¹

As the programme of events created for the Decade of Centenaries (2012–22) was announced there were some welcome additions to the traditional thematic scope of reflections on this era.² Local histories were emphasised, histories of women’s contributions came to the fore and there was a greater acknowledgement of both the impact of, and Irish people’s involvement in, the First World War. New histories of the period or revised editions of books hit the shelves. Television was flooded with documentaries and dramatisations emphasising not just the acknowledged heroes of the revolution but the ordinary people who lived and died alongside them. And yet, it seemed, something was missing. This volume seeks to fill this gap by providing a selection of essays that reflect on histories of men during the revolution whereby their gender is explicitly acknowledged and explored.

Jane McGaughey’s timely tour de force, Ulster’s Men: Protestant Unionist Masculinities and Militarization in the North of Ireland, 1912–23 made a significant contribution to the literature through excellent analysis, thorough archival research and emphasis on one strange fact: “using masculinity as a lens for exploring Ireland’s history remains something of a novelty.”³ McGaughey’s study focused on Ulster Unionists, yet her arguments remain pertinent to the period across the island and across political beliefs. Inspired by McGaughey’s research and approach and having been intrigued by the dynamics of gender in modern Irish history for decades, I undertook to investigate this further. This volume, and my own contribution to it, has helped to extend the community of scholars interested in achieving what in 2012 Dudink argued was the “minimal ambition of any history of masculinity […] to demonstrate that masculinity has a history.”⁴ What do we mean by masculinity, or more correctly, masculinities? There are three important elements to consider, as explored by Baca Zinn, Hondagnue-Sotelo and Messner:

First, that what we think of as “masculinity” is not a fixed, biological essence of men, but rather is a social construction that shifts and changes over time as well as between and among various national and cultural contexts. Second, power is central to understanding gender as a relational construct, and the dominant definition of masculinity is largely about expressing difference from – and superiority over – anything considered “feminine”. And third, there is no singular “male sex role”. Rather, at any given time there are various masculinities.⁵

The literature on masculinity in historical context has been advanced in other countries in recent decades through embracing these different ways of thinking about men in the past, building upon the work of sociologists such as Kimmel and theorists such as Connell.⁶ Hegemonic masculinity, or the dominant forms of masculine expression in a society, is a concept initially developed by Connell to further explore power relations between men as well as between men and women. The most validated forms of masculinity are often the most powerful and the most rewarded. Connell rightly argues that “Different cultures and different periods of history construct gender differently” and this volume focuses on a very particular era of political change in Ireland, which allows for some distinct patterns and characteristics to emerge.⁷ Hegemonic masculinity is thus particularly useful as a paradigm for examining the revolutionary period as militarised, aggressive, physical masculinity was the most powerful identity for men, no matter their stance on the “Irish Question.” In the wider context of Britain, the “rise of popular militarism” that occurred at the end of the nineteenth century according to Brown, resulted in the body of the soldier being “of concern to the nation as a whole.”⁸ Heffernan’s work on physical culture in Ireland confirms this: “Much like military sport, physical training spread from the barracks to public life which meant a public familiarisation with military exercise.”⁹

It seems that Irish historians have been reluctant to tackle the construction and changing meaning of masculinities over time in Irish history beyond some recent exemplary studies.¹⁰ As Barr, Brady and McGaughey succinctly put it: “Questions of masculinities have come late to the Irish historical paradigm.”¹¹ This is despite the significant and successful use of gender as a category of analysis in the case of Irish women’s history over the past 50 years, inspired by leaders in the field such as Gerda Lerner and Joan Scott internationally, and Margaret MacCurtain and Mary Cullen in Ireland. Indeed, the “academic study of masculinity took its lead from feminism and women’s studies and became popular as subject lines blurred and interdisciplinary scholarship was valued.”¹² Butler’s pioneering intervention in the field of gender theory made new forms of analysis possible in multiple disciplines and her ideas on the performativity of gender is nowhere more apt than in studies of a society riven by militarism and political conflict that pushed certain modes of masculinity to the fore as in Ireland’s revolutionary years.¹³ More recent intersectional feminist thought is also useful to our analysis of this period, which Hill Collins and Bilge have argued is a way of analysing complexity in the world, recognising that people and events “are generally shaped by many factors in diverse and mutually influencing ways.”¹⁴ Intersectionality is touched upon in the essays in this volume in various ways, but most particularly in the essays by Walker and myself when class interacts with national ideologies in the case of male migrants and their need to work rather than fight (in two very different contexts).

The scholarship on the historical experiences of men in Ireland has ignited in the past decade, with some of the contributors to this volume leading the way, but, ironically, “mainstream” history which once excluded women from its narratives has often continued to exclude gendered analyses of men.¹⁵ Almost two decades ago in this journal, Linda Connolly called for further studies of masculinity to contribute to the enrichment of Irish Studies as a whole, arguing that “a gendered history also requires a ‘true history’ and illumination of masculinity – a task that cannot avoid critical analysis of issues relating to gender bias and power in the reproduction of canonical knowledge.”¹⁶ The Irish revolutionary era, even if contested as a delineated chronological period as Beatty does in this volume, has entered “canonical knowledge” being taught at every level of education in Ireland and continuing to inspire numerous studies annually. Scholarship has opened up to include critical analyses of women’s roles in the republican movement, as combatants, in auxiliary roles and as fundraisers and political campaigners¹⁷ and women of the Ulster Unionist Women’s Council have also received scholarly attention.¹⁸ However, the methodologies, insights and conclusions employed by historians of women in Ireland have not, until recently, found their way into histories which analyse the gendered experiences of men. Indeed, many historians have failed to acknowledge gender as important in writing the histories of men. This is despite the groundbreaking scholarship achieved across multiple time periods of history and across disciplines that highlights the diverse gendered norms for men and women and the different expectations of men to perform their masculinity across intersectional axes.

Magennis and Mullen’s argue cogently for acknowledging that “the notion of masculinity as a fixed, stable identity” is false and their interdisciplinary collection explores “the plurality of representations of manhood in literature and culture” in Ireland.¹⁹ Barr, Brady and McGaughey explicitly deconstruct the notion that gender history is women’s history in their Irish masculinities collection, demonstrating the ways in which attention to men as gendered individuals can contribute to Irish historical narratives. Although not referring directly to the Irish revolutionary period, their incisive comment about how gender can often be seen as “a consideration of secondary importance when compared with questions of political legitimacy, nationalism and the nation-state, violence and colonialism” has very particular resonances for this time.²⁰ If analysed in the context of masculine norms, focusing on gender in the revolutionary period is of primary importance if we are to understand how men and women experienced the political upheaval, violence and societal instability that characterised the time. The stubborn occlusion of gender perspectives in histories written about men in Ireland is coming to an end, and the contributions in this collection pose historiographical challenges and provide evidence for the value of this approach.

Internationally, scholarship has been focused on masculinities for some time and the utility of employing a gendered approach to the history of men, individually or as groups, has been proven for different eras by a range of scholars. As Horne argues, the “importance of gender lies not only in its own subject matter but also in its ability to cast light on other themes of history and on broader historical synthesis.”²¹ A focus on gender, in this instance with regard to men, can certainly illuminate the history of Ireland’s turbulent years of revolution and its aftermath. This is intimately connected to analysing power relations between men as Griffin has highlighted, which “have long been a central theme of historical writing, but it is only in the last thirty years that they have been understood in gendered terms.”²²

Many of the contributions in this special issue deal with power and its manifestation in hierarchies of masculinities that posited nationalist revolutionaries at the top, with all others below it. As Connell and Messerschmidt clarify, “the contestation for hegemony implies that gender hierarchy does not have multiple niches at the top.”²³ Thus, the soldier citizen prepared to die for his political ideals is the premier form of masculinity for much of the revolutionary period, as evidenced in the political writings of many of the leaders of the Irish Volunteers and the Irish Republican Army and in their actions towards those who did not share their commitment or beliefs. This has echoes in other cultures and other periods but has not been significantly explored in Irish historiography to date. Dudink, for example, in discussing the representation of the male body in political culture in the late eighteenth century argued that “[i]t symbolized political and moral regeneration and helped create a ‘stoic’ male political subjectivity that validated the seizure of power by revolutionary citizens.”²⁴ Such an argument could easily be applied to the Irish revolution when military notions of physical fitness permeated both Nationalist and Unionist political discourses, giving rise to two armed, paramilitary forces on the island by 1913.

Visions of Irish men’s effeminacy because of political subordination to Britain litter the writings of prominent revolutionaries. Pearse claimed that a lack of political independence in Ireland weakened Irish men’s claims to be “proper” men, or in his words “we of this generation are not in any real sense men.”²⁵ This equates “real” men with military prowess and experience and the Irish Volunteer’s Manifesto urged all to take time out of leisure activities to devote to “discipline” that would “bring back to every town, village and countryside a consciousness that has been long forbidden them – the sense of freemen who have fitted themselves to defend the cause of freedom.” If men did this they could, in the name of “manly citizenship” achieve personal and national freedom. The “manly injunction to be strong” as Sabo termed it can be found in different times and contexts, but just as didactic discourses about women’s physical appearance often link beauty with goodness, so the emphasis on athleticism and muscularity linked moral courage with physical stamina. The “hard” man has been explored by many scholars, and Sabo’s study of New York prisoners offers an interesting definition that applies, I argue, to the discourses around men in Ireland in the revolution: “Being hard can mean that the individual is toned, strong, conditioned, or fit, rather than weak, flabby, or out of shape. A hard man cares for and respects his body.”²⁶ The emphasis on physical fitness and the equation of the physical ability to fight with a moral or political high ground is explored by several authors in this special issue.

Within a year of the Manifesto, as Walker and Farrell explore in this volume, the direction of manly bravery for some was Europe and the fight against Germany as part of the British Army. Newspaper reports of emigrants found to be leaving Ireland to avoid the moral pressure within their communities to enlist appeared across Ireland. Intending emigrants were physically accosted, blocked from gaining entry to ships and shamed by crowds of people at ports in Britain and Ireland. Thus, while manly strength may have been emphasised as a contrast to effeminate weakness, accusations of weakness were not confined pejoratively to women, but also to migrants. This is addressed from two alternate perspectives in this volume – migrants who left to avoid the moral pressure to enlist and migrants who left during the War of Independence were both, for different reasons, accused of lacking manly principles.

Despite the attempt of many in the Irish Volunteers to rhetorically elevate the Irish nationalist rebel as unique amongst the races, the same fears of effeminacy and the lauding of manly valour had occurred in Britain itself in earlier periods as Dudink outlined in his discussion of the Seven Years War: “citizens needed to become manly soldiers again if they valued their independence and liberty.”²⁷ Similarly, Brown identified anxieties about the physical prowess of British soldiers in the late nineteenth century as war became increasingly reliant on technology rather than physical prowess and the weakness of the British army was exposed in the Crimean and Boer Wars.²⁸ This was a less positive view of the interaction between man and machine than the portrayal of a symbiosis between them in The Irish Volunteer as discussed in my article in this collection whereby the man without a weapon is quite simply less of a man.

Tosh has highlighted the appropriateness of using a “‘masculinity’ perspective” in the “realm of politics” and in particular in “exploring the relationship between civilian and military masculinities, or ‘gendering’ the body politic itself.” Quite simply, this is because “the political order can be seen as a reflection of the gender order in society as a whole, in which case the political virtues are best understood as the prescribed masculine virtues writ large.”²⁹ This perspective is also useful in considering histories of men in the Irish revolutionary era when the future of Ireland was being envisioned, and while those visions had sharp political distinctions according to one’s stance on the Union or the ideal held for an independent or republican Ireland, in any scenario men were regarded as the natural leaders of a new nation.

Republican rhetoric in the Irish revolution repeatedly framed the ideal man as one who could exert their masculinity to make history. As Beatty observed, tropes of nationalist masculinity were emphasised in Sinn Féin propaganda in the momentous 1918 election, contrasting its candidates, who had staged the Rising and withstood prison afterwards, as the ultimate in politicised manliness. In contrast, Irish Parliamentary Party candidates were depicted as unfit (and therefore unmanly), bourgeois and British oriented. Posters urged voters to “‘Be Men and Vote for Freedom’” and “‘Vote for the Manly Independent Policy.’”³⁰ The equation of republicanism with true manliness inferred that the corollary, constitutional nationalism, was constructed as unmanly, weak, subservient. The subordinate position of an independent Ireland defined by the confines of home rule in the 1914 Government of Ireland Act is embodied and politicised in this hierarchy of male bodies. Men who left, who did not wish to embrace a “manly independent policy” were similarly castigated. Heffernan has charted how “the IRA redoubled its physical training efforts” when the War of Independence broke out in 1919, and courses in “field training, physical exercise and rifle practice” were provided.³¹ While Heffernan found that not all who undertook such courses were enamoured with them, there was a general acknowledgement of their utility given the guerrilla nature of the conflict. Given the disparity between nationalist and British forces in the War of Independence, individual men’s physical contribution counted for much, and those unwilling to engage were therefore “lesser.”

A hyper-masculinity, associated with militarism, in which physical prowess and mental preparedness to lose one’s life for the sake of one’s principles, was paramount in revolutionary Ireland, but there are parallels across many parts of the world where universal conscription existed. This differentiated men according to their soldierly qualities, creating the soldier-citizen as the most prized position in the hierarchy of masculinities and emphasising differences among men, and among men and women as Dudink and Hagemann argue: “Universal male citizenship and general conscription – and the exclusion of women from them – were vital in making sexual difference a prime difference.”³² It is these differences this volume seeks to explore by examining concepts of masculinities and their manifestation during the revolutionary and post-independence eras. Ireland’s history at this time connects with earlier nationalist movements in Europe whereby revolutionary regeneration could happen through a call to arms and men could find their manly virtue again within themselves according to Dudink.³³ The willingness to fight demonstrated, or demonstrated perhaps to some, how deserving one was of full citizenship. In the Irish context, this citizenship was ideologically imagined in a new Ireland.

Roger Casement has continued to intrigue scholars over the last one hundred years. The last of the rebels to be executed, his class, direct employment by the British government and most controversially his sexuality have been variously debated and disputed by a diverse range of disciplinary experts. In “Casement, Choreography and Commemoration,” Fearghus Ó Conchúir takes an alternative approach to the history of one of the most enigmatic revolutionary men and describes his work in representing Casement’s biography in dance. The account of his Arts Council funded project offers an alternate way of telling this story, of communicating it to the public, and of “an effort to reconceptualise the Irish national body and to embody alternative forms of individual and collective corporeality.”³⁴ Ó Conchúir explores notions of the male body with regard to Casement’s sexuality, balancing this with a new analysis of how Casement’s life can be represented artistically in contemporary dance. Ó Conchúir’s recounting of the obsessive detail paid to Casement’s body, including his posthumous physical examination to determine whether he had engaged in homosexual acts, “highlights the political import of ostensibly private bodies” and demonstrates the heteronormativity of revolutionary era Ireland and Britain.³⁵

Beatty tackles the revolution and the post-independence period in his contribution to this volume. The longer history of revolutionary ideas and impulses in Ireland is traced by Beatty as he explores ideas about ideal male citizens that were inculcated in the 1890s and survived the revolution and “Counter Revolution” of a more conservative Free State era. The ideas of socialism and feminism that had inspired many rebels, most particularly James Connolly, were pushed to the side in favour of a more homogenous, or hegemonic narrative that emphasised national unity and the predominance of men. This has been investigated in detail by historians of women, but Beatty’s analysis extends our gendered explorations of post-independence Ireland in important ways.

The consequences of the revolutionary period and what that meant particularly to men are considered by several contributors to this volume. Farrell addresses the physical consequences for those who fought with the British Army (for various reasons) in his article examining medical care for disabled veterans in post-independence Ireland. While the political context of the period often saw these men shunned or ignored, the physical aspects of their experience is a facet that has been less considered in the literature to date. Farrell’s contention that while commemoration of the dead did occur in the Free State but commemoration of those who survived the war did not is interesting to consider. Who “gets” to be remembered is always a political decision and as Farrell observes, the political context veterans returned to had changed utterly from the one they left to paraphrase Yeats. Farrell’s work raises some interesting questions considering approaches to this history that analyse contemporary norms for men. The “hierarchy” of ailments suggested by Farrell, whereby those without obvious physical wounds “were often held in lower regard” than those who had been seriously physically maimed suggests that the visible, physical damage of war on a man’s body mattered to demonstrate bravery.³⁶ Psychological ailments or diseases with less visible effects on the body did not lend themselves to be interpreted in the same way.

The high financial costs dedicated to gendered healthcare for veterans indicates how substantial the physical issues were for those who survived the Great War but were debilitated by their experiences. Farrell’s impressive empirical work provides the basis for future scholarship in which the needs of men disabled by their engagement in military combat could be further interrogated. McGaughey has elsewhere argued that veterans of the Great War were often viewed as symbols of “broken masculinity.”³⁷ This raises an important question in the context of Farrell’s work: does the financial investment represent a desire to empathetically care for these men or to rehabilitate them to a “better,” more impeccably manly form?

The act of migration in the era of revolutionary activity highlights attitudes to men that connect strongly with theories of nationalism, collective belonging and duty and demonstrate the necessity of highlighting gender in the analysis of migration. Because of the landscape of contemporary gendered norms, there was no expectation that women would “do their bit” in a physical, armed, “brave,” way as there was on men. Ellis has argued that “few historians would disagree that the political culture of the Irish Free State privileged masculinity over femininity,” and yet in recognising this, the different forms of masculinity, which were elevated and which denigrated, have been less explored.³⁸ The experiences of men who were charged with opposing the IRA, the Royal Irish Constabulary (RIC), are a group whose history has been examined from alternate angles in studies so far and are addressed by Hughes in this volume. Hughes examines the trajectories of men after the disbandment of the RIC who felt forced to migrate, such was the hostility, and sometimes danger, they faced after their employment in a police force regarded as oppressive and treacherous by many. The force of nationalist and republican political rhetoric in constructions of masculinity is highlighted by Hughes as men in the RIC, while acknowledged in many cases to be physically fit, were nevertheless relegated in the ideological ranking of men and regarded as inferior to nationalists and republicans. One’s employment in this case is equated with one’s politics, and one’s politics is equated with one’s manliness, or lack of it. Much like the case with migrants in the War of Independence, the economic underpinnings of this forced migration were concomitant with real threats to the safety of RIC men and their families. These threats found such men in a role reversal from their actions during the revolutionary period – they were no longer the raiders but the raided. This had implications for their own sense of masculine identity as they were unable to protect their homes and families. Ultimately, as Hughes concludes, migration was not necessarily a rejection of the political status quo of Free State Ireland so much as it was “about protection and safety, pragmatism and survival, than fighting or dying.”³⁹ As Hughes acknowledges, disbandment and migration also impacted on the wives and children of married RIC members; thus, the significance of male employment, or unemployment, on whole families can be viewed as part of the dynamics of migration and as part of the ways in which “valued” and “discredited” forms of male employment were constructed in this highly politicised world.

In this issue, Lane explores the support of one of Ireland’s most influential female writers of the period, Dorothy Macardle for anti-Treaty forces. In her nuanced study of Macardle’s writing, Lane draws out the ways in which women could be fully invested in patriarchal representations of masculinity as part of a nationalist project. The writing of political history is often riven with biases, particularly, when like Macardle, one has a particular view of the “best” and “worst” examples of manliness based on acceptance or rejection of the Anglo-Irish Treaty. In Macardle’s unequivocal view, “the virtues of manhood belonged to the republican side in the Civil War.”⁴⁰ Lane’s article explores Macardle’s framing of these virtues, her scathing analysis of pro-Treaty men and the violence against republican women that Macardle saw as evidence of her summation that those who accepted the Treaty were capable of unmanly acts of brutality. This article adds considerably to our understanding of Macardle but also the import placed at the time on conceptions of masculinity, chivalry and political citizenship.

Jane McGaughey closes this issue with an insightful review of the themes addressed in it. As a leader and specialist in the field covering two centuries of Irish and Canadian history with a particular eye to the modes of masculinity expressed in both countries, her analysis of the work is incisive. She rightly points to the further avenues of research the articles suggest and their different approaches and empirical bases. The progress of the field is highlighted in McGaughey’s piece and demonstrates how far we have come in scholarship in a relatively short period of time. Beatty pithily expressed the state of Irish historiography in 2016 with regard to acknowledging men as gendered beings: “masculinity remains the elephant-in-the-room in the study of Irish nationalism.”⁴¹ It is not as if attention to masculinities when it comes to exploring the Irish revolution is of no use. Indeed, as McGaughey argued in her co-edited collection, Ireland and Masculinities in History,

Questioning masculinities in Irish history has the potential to reframe and extend our knowledge and understanding of the ways in which gender and power intersect in Irish politics and society, and how competing ideologies of nation and denomination affected the gendering of men within Ireland, and beyond in diasporic communities.⁴²

The studies in this collection, which take seriously the gendered analysis of men in different moments of the Irish revolution, take up this challenge and it is a sincere hope of all contributors that they inspire further analyses of masculinities across different time periods in Irish history.

Acknowledgments

Thanks to the Irish Research Council for funding my New Foundations project in 2016 and to Maynooth University for their support for two symposia dedicated to this topic in 2016 and 2017. This collection would not be possible without this support and the valuable contributions of all participants – speakers, chairs, and audience members. Particular thanks are due to the peer reviewers who helped make this special issue possible and to Dr Conor Heffernan and Dr Stefan Dudink for assisting me in sourcing their scholarship.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Additional information

Funding

Funding was received through the New Foundations grant programme of the Irish Research Council and the author gratefully acknowledges this support.

Notes

1. Tosh, “The History of Masculinity,” 17–18.

2. For more on the official Government of Ireland programme of events for the Decade of Centenaries, see https://www.decadeofcentenaries.com/. Note that the Decade of Centenaries is focused on the years 1912–22, thereby missing out on the end of the Civil War. This special issue takes the broadly agreed upon dates of 1912–23 as the period of the Irish Revolution as described in scholarship to date. How revolutionary Ireland was, or how long this period of political transformation lasted are issues that have been debated. The temporal scope is what is emphasised in articles in this special issue.

3. McGaughey, Ulster’s Men, 5.

4. Dudink, “Multipurpose Masculinities: Gender and Power in Low Countries Histories of Masculinity,” 2012 Royal Netherlands Historical Society, 5

5. Baca Zinn et al., “Introduction,” 4.

6. Kimmel, Manhood in America, and Changing Men; and Connell, Masculinities.

7. Connell, “Masculinities and Globalization,” 37.

8. Brown, “Cold Steel,” 156.

9. Heffernan, The History of Physical Culture, 53.

10. Barclay, Men on Trial; Barr et al., eds., Ireland and Masculinities in History are Notable Exceptions.

11. Barr et al., “Introduction,” Ireland and Masculinities in History, 1.

12. Magennis and Mullen, eds., Masculinities, 2.

13. Bulter, Gender Trouble.

14. Hill Collins and Bilge, Intersectionality, 2

15. MacCurtain and O’Dowd referred to “mainstream” history in their ground-breaking article “An agenda for women’s history” in 1992 when they (rightly) made the case that women’s history was emerging as a challenge to narratives about Ireland that completed excluded any information and women’s parallel experiences.

16. Connolly, “The Limits of ‘Irish Studies’,” 150.

17. McDiarmid, At Home in the Revolution; Connolly, ed., Women and the Irish Revolution; Frawley, ed., Women and the Decade of Centenaries; and Nic Dháibhéid, “The Irish National Aid Association” inter alia.

18. Urquhart, The Minutes of the Ulster Women’s Unionist Council and Women in Ulster politics; McKane, “No Idle Sightseers.”

19. Magennis and Mullen, eds., Masculinities, 1.

20. Barr et al., “Introduction,” 3.

21. Horne, “Masculinity in Politics and War,” 23.

22. Griffin, “Hegemonic Masculinity as a Historical Problem,” 377.

23. Connell and Messerschmidt, “Hegemonic Masculinity,” 845.

24. Dudink, “Cuts and Bruises,” 153.

25. Pearse, The Coming Revolution, 97.

26. Sabo, “Doing Time,” 110.

27. Dudink, “Citizenship, Mobilization and Masculinity,” 209.

28. Brown, “Cold Steel, Weak Flesh.”

29. Tosh, “Hegemonic Masculinity,” 41.

30. Beatty, Masculinity and Power, 38.

31. Heffernan, The History of Physical Culture, 87.

32. Dudink and Hagemann, “Masculinity in Politics and War,” 11.

33. Dudink, “Citizenship, Mobilization and Masculinity.”

34. Ó Conchúir, “Casement, Choreography and Commemoration,” 156.

35. Ibid.,163.

36. Farell, “A forgotten generation,” 143.

37. McGaughey, “The Language of Sacrifice,” 299.

38. Ellis, “De Valera’s Gains,” 61–62.

39. Hughes, “The Disbanded Royal Irish Constabulary and Forced Migration, 1922–31,” 224.

40. Lane, “Constructions of Civil War Masculinities in the Writings of Dorothy Macardle,” 245.

41. Beatty, Masculinity and Power, 9.

42. Barr et al., “Introduction,” Ireland and Masculinities in History, 5.