British Forum for Ethnomusicology

Fieldwork in common places: An ethnographer's experiences in Tory Island

Author(s): Lillis . Laoire
Source: British Journal of Ethnomusicology, Vol. 12, No. 1 (2003), pp. 113-136
Published by: British Forum for Ethnomusicology
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LILLIS 0 LAOIRE
Fieldwork in common places:
an ethnographer's experiences in
Tory Island
In memoriam Dr Sean 6 hEochaidh (1913-2002)
This paper examines some fieldwork experiences in Tory Island, Co. Donegal,
Ireland, contextualizing them within a critique of Irish folklore studies. It also
examines the position of a fieldworker who shares the ethnicity of those with
whom he has worked, discussing the challenges and opportunities presented by
such a situation. The notion of "field" is questioned, and it is argued that a
reciprocal "equity consciousness" towards an ethics of practice is crucial to any
worthwhile engagement with the musical traditions of others. The limitations
of such an engagement are also discussed and I argue that, if we are to avoid
complacency and grave error critical moments of distanciation must always
mediate the activity of appropriation.
Introduction
In recent years ethnography as a scientific endeavour has come under increasing
scrutiny, and a certain suspicion of its motives and intentions has emerged from
this attention (Clifford and Marcus 1986, Geertz 1988). Ethnography may once
have been regarded as an unproblematic empirical activity during which cultural
objects were collected, classified and catalogued, stored in archives and,
perhaps, subsequently published, but the recent examination of ethnography's
practices has revealed a myriad of questions regarding power relationships,
ethics, approaches, roles and so on (Watson 1999, Dresch, James and Parkin
2000). First within anthropology, and subsequently within the discipline of
ethnomusicology, attempts to answer such questions have given rise to new
i This is a revised version of a paper presented at the International Council for Traditional
Music's 36th World Conference, Rio de Janeiro, 2001. I am grateful to Dr Suzel Ana Reily,
Queen's University Belfast, to Dr Timothy J. Cooley, University of California, Santa Barbara,
and to my anonymous reviewers for their helpful comments on earlier versions. In addition, I
am indebted to the Fulbright Commission (Ireland) for financial support for this research and
to the University of Limerick for facilitating periods of sabbatical leave.
BRITISH JOURNAL OF ETHNOMUSICOLOGY VOL. 12/i 2003 pp. 113-36
114 BRITISH JOURNAL OF ETHNOMUSICOLOGY VOL.12/i 2003
kinds of ethnographic writing. It has been recognized that, since many of the
dilemmas arising from the encounter between the fieldworker and the chosen
group emerge first as personal experiences, these engagements are profoundly
implicated in the outcomes of field research. Such concerns have recently been
addressed, predominantly by North American scholars, in the aptly named
collection Shadows in the Field (Barz and Cooley 1997). In his introduction
one of the editors states "As individual fieldworkers, our shadows join others,
past and present, in a web of histories: personal histories, the histories of our
academic field and the histories of those we study" (Cooley 1997:5).
This article examines aspects of these three interrelated areas with regard
to my experiences among the Tory islanders, with whom I have been involved
in different capacities since the early 1980s. I have been at various times a
collector, a host, a television presenter and a companion at various festivals,
and have also served as a contact for others who wished to work with them.2
Tory Island
Tory is a small island off the north coast of Donegal, a county in the northwest
of the Republic of Ireland. It is three miles long and measures a mile and a half
at its widest point. It has a population of about 160 year round (Hunter 1996)
and the islanders are bilingual in Irish and in English. Although the younger
generation are much more at ease with English than their elders - which is a
cause of some concern - the Irish language predominates as the daily vernacular.
In the past the economy was based on inshore fishing, particularly for herring.
This was supplemented by subsistence agriculture, wage income from seasonal
migration (particularly to Scotland), and by government unemployment benefits
(Fox 1995 [1978]). Attempts to resettle the population on the mainland were
partially resisted (0 P6icfn 1997), and in recent years, largely perhaps because
of such resistance, Tory has enjoyed previously unparalleled investment in its
facilities. It now has a new deep-water harbour, a new community centre, a new
health centre and, since 1999, a small community college, which means that for
the first time children aged 12 and above can receive a second-level education
without having to travel to the mainland. An island entrepreneur opened a hotel
in 1994, and tourism is being developed as a new mainstay of the island's econ-
omy. The island's unique location, its rare bird populations,3 its archaeological
and historical traditions, its unique painting tradition and its rich heritage of
storytelling, music, dance and song are being promoted as major attractions.
Unemployment remains a formidable problem, but there is greater confidence in
the island's future.
2 Since the establishment by the Irish State in 1996 of TG4, a television station similar to S4C
in Wales, with a remit to produce Irish language programming, the number of television pro-
grammes made about and for Irish speakers has greatly increased. Traditional music in one
form or another has proved a popular subject for many productions.
3 The island is one of the last breeding grounds of the Corncrake (Crex crex), which has been
driven almost to extinction in much of the rest of Ireland by industrialized farming methods.
0 LAOIRE Fieldwork in common places: an ethnographer's experiences in Tory Island
The paper is offered with two intentions: one as an exploration of relation-
ships and expectations generated by my experience of engaging the islanders
with a particular goal in mind; the second as an attempt to bring into discussion
assumptions concerning the construction of the discipline hitherto left lying
in the scholarly "undergrowth" surrounding folklore and folk music studies
(Chapman 1986:136).
Premises for folk music studies
Trends in Irish folklore were part of a broader movement in which concerns
of origins and purity were equally central. The earliest theories regarding folk
music can be traced to the eighteenth-century German scholars Johann Gottfried
Von Herder and Jacob Grimm, who emphasized the "natural" and "unstruc-
tured" characteristics of folk song (Bohlman 1988:6-7). Nineteenth-century
cultural nationalism also left its stamp on the academic questions of the day
by equating cultural areas with geographical and political boundaries.
Classification was influenced by these concerns and also played its part in pre-
scribing styles and canons. The emphasis was on product, particularly on reified
texts, with little emphasis on context or on those who were the main practition-
ers of the kinds of music and song that were deemed "folk". As musical analysis
became more important, similarities between the melodies of folk songs and
mediaeval diatonic church modes were proposed, conferring a sense of high
cultural antiquity on the folk tunes. In an insular context - in particular in the
case of Cecil Sharp (1907) - such ideas were linked to cultural nationalism in an
attempt to prove the antiquity and consequent superiority of the folk idiom. Folk
song was often presumed to be an appropriate vehicle for modem composers to
establish new national schools of composition (Bohlman 1988:39). Theories of
gesunkenes kulturgut, i.e. of songs which had originated as art music but which
had been absorbed into oral tradition, were also important (11, 48). Concepts
such as these influenced scholarly debate concerning traditional music in Ireland
- a debate that is generally accepted as having been initiated by Bunting's
collection of tunes from the Harpers at Belfast in 1792. Romantic nationalism,
directly influenced by Enlightenment ideals and Ireland's colonial situation, also
played a role in shaping the emerging discourse (Trachsel 1995, Moloney 2000).
Some critics have viewed the overwhelming stress placed on the legacy of folk
song since 1792 as a major impediment to the development of other musical
forms in keeping with European models (White 1998). This remains a matter for
academic debate. Nevertheless, what is certain is that from the inception of the
discourse about traditional music in Ireland, song, and Gaelic song in particular,
has been seen as an emblem of national identity.
Folklore and cultural nationalism in Ireland - background
Douglas Hyde was particularly influential in making an explicit connection
between folklore and cultural nationalism at the end of the nineteenth century.
According to this paradigm, which was influenced by the debates mentioned
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116 BRITISH JOURNAL OF ETHNOMUSICOLOGY VOL. 12/i 2003
above, it was the small subsistence farmers and fishing communities of the
Gaelic-speaking west that were seen to represent the epitome of the "folk",
whose traditions must be saved before they were swept away by the tide of
modernity. In a revivalist context, these people were further imagined as the last
fallen remnants of mediaeval Gaelic high literate culture and, consequently, they
were also putatively viewed as the seeds of the spiritual regeneration of the
Gaelic nation. Folklore was broadly seen as rural, Western, Gaelic and medi-
aeval in origin. The Folklore Society of Ireland, established in 1927, had as its
motto Colligite fragmenta ne pereant (Gather the fragments lest they be lost),
which sums up the position of the movement as a whole. With the establishment
of the Irish Folklore Institute in 1930 by the Free State government, folklore
became elevated into an "institutionally autonomous discipline" (Chapman
1986:115). The Institute was to be renamed the Irish Folklore Commission in
1935 before eventually crystallizing into the Department of Irish Folklore estab-
lished at University College Dublin in 1972. The development and practice of
folklore studies in Ireland was influenced in its principles by the Scandinavian
schools, particularly that of Sweden, where many of its scholars were trained.
The Department of Irish Folklore now houses one of the largest folklore archives
in Western Europe, with substantial sound recordings of traditional music and
song. From the outset, collection and analysis of folklore was closely linked to
the State's aims of nation-building and identity formation. In common with
other national folklore movements, folklore collecting in the Free State was an
"engaged activity" with a nationalist outlook (Reily 2000:1). The concern with
identity prevailed in the emerging post-colonial entity Saor-Stdt Eireann (the
Irish Free State) in the aftermath of Independence from 1921 onwards, and this
paradigm remained unchallenged until the end of the 1970s (cf. Almqvist 1977).
A discourse critiquing its assumptions has only recently emerged, significantly
from the Department of Folklore and Ethnology at University College Cork,
which favours a more anthropological approach (6 Crualaoich 1986, 6 Giollain
1989, 1996, 2000).
The separation of folklore and anthropology
The unabashedly engaged standpoint of the Irish folklore movement may be
contrasted with the dominant drive in anthropology at the time towards scientific
objectivity. Chapman points out that this and other differences have led to an
unproductive separation of folkloristic and anthropological studies (1986:135,
181-206). The fact that folklore is most often thought of, particularly in a British
and Irish context, as being conducted by an individual who shares the ethnicity
of the group being studied has frequently served to occlude the asymmetrical
power relations that arise from such encounters. It was assumed that common
ethnicity and loyalty to the State served to raise the work of folklore collection
to the level of a national duty to be undertaken almost as a labour of love.
In an Irish context, 6 Giollain (2000:142) points to the collectors' clear
awareness of the social distance between themselves and those from whom they
collected, but he notes that this is seldom commented on except in a superficial
6 LAOIRE Fieldwork in common places: an ethnographer's experiences in Tory Island
manner. The districts most idealized as repositories of folklore in the Gaelic West
were also some of the most severely economically disadvantaged and the ideal-
ization of folk tradition was deliberately linked to its imminent disappearance.
Two visions of Ireland competed at this time: one industrialized and urbanizing,
the other agrarian and rural. It was to the second vision that the folklore move-
ment largely adhered, even as it was ironically sustained by the first. Meanwhile,
the extreme poverty of those from whom the movement's adherents collected
remained unproblematic to the official folklore project (6 Giollain 2000:144).
Cooley recognizes this lack of concern for the ordinary lives of informants as
a widespread trend among European folklorists in the past, noting that these
scholars were inclined to erect and maintain borders of cultural and evolutionary
development between themselves and those they studied. This separation led
to a deliberate division into two categories: the scholars, and the "Others" who
were the objects of scholarship (Cooley 1997:9). On the other hand, cultural
or romantic nationalism invoked a common ethnicity as a unifying discourse,
particularly in Ireland, where the project of folklore collection was profoundly
linked to the establishment of the Irish State, with folklore considered a "pure"
expression of the Irish people (6 Crualaoich 1986). Such practices were sharply
criticized by the radical writer Mairtin 6 Cadhain, himself a prolific collector
of folklore, as part of a constant "lament for the expiring Gaelic culture" which
was "sucking every drop of hope from the people" (6 Giollain 2000:152). Barbs
such as these were usually aimed at the director of the Irish Folklore Commis-
sion, S6amas 6 Duilearga, also known as J. H. Delargy.
New directions of inquiry
The aim in commenting here on such trends in folklore studies is not simply to
criticize blindly the shortcomings of earlier scholars out of context, but to iden-
tify new challenges for research and to discover ways of meeting them. All those
who conduct ethnographic research in anthropology and ethnomusicology in
Ireland are implicated in a critique that clearly exposes some of the darker
"shadows" cast by the folklore project. Some of these include the bias towards
the rural West, the emphasis on Gaelic folklore and the folktale to the exclusion
of other genres, and the privileging of the "pastness" of folklore, casting it in
direct opposition to the rationality of modernity (Chapman 1986:121, 0 Giollain
2000). Consequently, my track as a cultural worker has perhaps inevitably
followed such orientations, helping to determine my interest in the area of study
and the aspects of culture singled out for research, and leading me to continue
the long line of collectors who have visited Tory Island since the 1930s.4
Although my activity has not officially been part of any "national project", it is,
by association, part of an academic tradition established by such a project and is
thus open to similar interrogation as regards its purpose and intent, both from the
community and from the standpoint of academic ethics.
4 These include Aodh 6 Domhnaill, Sean 0 hEochaidh, S6amus Ennis, Hugh Shields, Noel
Hamilton and Micheil 0 Domhnaill.
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The issue of personal history also deserves attention since this aspect of
ethnography, too, has frequently been left aside without being closely examined.
This may be partly because of the fear of slipping into a "self-indulgent confes-
sional" mode (Cooley 1997:17). Contrary to such a turn, however, an examina-
tion of such histories may confront the hard reality that
No one has ever devised a method for detaching the scholar from the circum-
stances of life, from the fact of his involvement (conscious or unconscious)
with a class, a set of beliefs, a social position, or from the mere activity of
being a member of a society.
(Said 1979:10)
To address such an issue, then, is to awaken questions surrounding power
relations and the politics of their negotiation - concerns central to recent anthro-
pological inquiry.
From the point of view of traditional folkloristic discourse in Ireland, it might
be considered that I am a "native" on the grounds that I was born and brought up
in northwest Donegal, speaking Irish as a first language. Indeed, I have been told
by mentors and colleagues that this background has been indispensable in gain-
ing an "insider's" view of songs and singing in Tory culture. Such a conclusion,
however, ignores the fact that all communities are made up of individuals who
are connected to it by different networks of kinship and by "friendships, enmi-
ties or rivalries" (Beaudry 1997:68). Being cast in the role of "native insider",
then, might be viewed as a classic instance of the assumption that a common
ethnicity automatically confers equivalent status on all who share it. While I do
not deny that being a proficient speaker of Irish is indeed indispensable to the
quality of the face to face encounter with the community in question, I remain
unconvinced that this ability, of itself, would have been sufficient to ensure
the success of the project undertaken. It is, I consider, more accurate to invoke
Rice's hermeneutic model where the categories of emic and etic are blurred
and up for negotiation because of, and through, reflexive field experience and
interaction with tradition. Following Ricoeur (1981 a), Rice views the encounter
between the ethnographer and the group in terms of a hermeneutic arc through
which one moves as one alternately experiences moments of the appropriation
and distanciation of tradition within the framework of the shared experience dis-
closed by a cultural world. This calls into question the whole notion of a "field"
and shifts the inquiry from "method" to the self as the locus for the dialectic
of explanation and understanding (Rice 1997:106). In the hermeneutic view
favoured by Rice, the self replaces the subject and understanding becomes a
precondition of explanation rather than a product of it (115).
Academic development
My own involvement with folklore has, of course, been formed within such an
engaged nationalistic discourse. Significantly, the late Sean 6 hEochaidh (1913-
2002), a full-time collector with the Irish Folklore Commission whose career
spanned fifty years (1935-85), was my close neighbour, a family friend and a
0 LAOIRE Fieldwork in common places: an ethnographer's experiences in Tory Island
mentor who often discussed his work with me and stimulated my growing inter-
est in it. In 1979 I went to University College Galway to study for a BA with a
main interest in Irish language, culture and literature. There I was stimulated and
mentored by Professor Breandin 6 Madagain, whose lively interest in Gaelic
song had led to the inclusion of a short course as part of the first-year curri-
culum. He also conducted a voluntary workshop where he taught Gaelic songs
to anyone who had an interest in learning them, and I became a regular attendee
at these workshops. His conviction that Gaelic poetry was primarily song poetry,
the musical component of which had been neglected by the predominantly
textual concerns of purely philological scholars, is borne out in much of his
writing (1981, 1985, 1993).
When I began studying for an MA in Irish language, literature and culture
in 1983, I chose 6 Madagain's graduate-level course on Gaelic song, in which
I was introduced to ethnomusicological theory through the writings of Nettl
(1964) and Merriam (1964). I was also introduced to Mantle Hood's (1960)
concept of bimusicality at this time. The idea of learning a tradition as well as
a native practitioner was an important element in this concept, since Hood
argued that it was a fundamentally useful way of conducting research into
musical traditions other than one's own. These ideas were subsequently taken
up and advocated by Nettl (1964: 10-11, 21-2, 64-5), which is where I first
encountered them.
Irish folklore scholarship, until then at least, had not specifically recognized
such an approach as valid. Although some collectors were themselves gifted
storytellers and musicians, and even though this had been recognized as an
important element in their success as collectors, no one had suggested that a
practical mastery of performance in a particular tradition could become a primary
asset in doing research. One of the greatest performer/collectors of song and
music in Ireland was S6amus Ennis (1919-82), an excellent Irish speaker and a
renowned piper and singer (Vallely 1999:118). Another, from Rannafast in
Donegal, was Aodh 6 Duibheannaigh (1914-84), a storyteller, fiddler and gifted
singer who, with Sean 6 hEochaidh, lectured to Celtic Studies students at
Queen's University Belfast during Professor Heinrich Wagner's chairmanship in
the late 1960s (Vallely 1999:276). However, it is arguable that my case was
different since I had only recently become interested in learning to sing on the
one hand and in the academic area of ethnomusicology on the other, the latter
interest encouraged primarily by my reading of American scholars. In folkloric
discourse, it seemed as if the primary emphasis on the past and on the inevita-
bility of the disappearance of "traditional" cultural practices precluded any
engagement at a practical level (Chapman 1986:119). Remnants of the tradition
had to be collected and stored before they perished irretrievably, but the idea that
personal agency could be regarded as a means of maintaining aspects of the
tradition was not seriously considered. Modernity's destruction of folk practices,
then, seemed to have rendered learning and practising traditional song in a
contemporary setting impossible or, at best, pathetically inadequate. In contrast,
the idea of bimusicality, as grounded in the present with an orientation towards
the future, attracted me as a fledgling singer.
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On recently re-reading Hood (1960, 1963), it became clearer to me that his
intention was different to the one I had understood at first. Hood wished to help
students trained in the Western musical tradition to overcome their ingrained
prejudices concerning structural and aesthetic correctness. His advocacy of
bimusicality was a pedagogic strategy arising out of his experience of non-
Western (and particularly Asian) performance ensembles at UCLA. I realize
now that it was his analogy of music with language that appealed to me as a
bilingual individual myself. I was, however, quite different from the kind
of student Hood had in mind. I had some familiarity with Gaelic folk song
from my schooling, although I was not then a performer, nor did I have any
extensive musical training beyond a casual familiarity with popular music.
Based on my perhaps flawed interpretation of Hood, I nevertheless made it my
goal to achieve mastery of the musical "language" of traditional Gaelic song
performance style.
Tory's awakening
Other events in the early eighties also drew my interest. Tory Island was
frequently in the news from 1981 on since the inhabitants, with the help of a
Jesuit priest, Fr Diarmaid 6 P6icin, were drawing attention to their chronic lack
of support services from the State. One of the ways in which the islanders
highlighted their plight was to attend An tOireachtas, the prestigious annual
Gaelic League festival for Gaelic verbal and musical arts, and to compete in its
sean-n6s (old-style) singing competitions. The Galway style in particular was
(and is) regarded as something of a jewel in the crown of Irish traditional vocal
music and, consequently, Donegal singers were rare at these events, which
tended to be dominated by performers from the Irish-speaking districts of
Galway (0 Laoire 2000). Listening to Tory competitors on the radio, I grew
steadily more fascinated by their singing. Their style seemed different from the
dominant Connemara approach to song, with a more restrained use of melisma,
although their approach was consistent with the aesthetics of sean-n6s style.
Their songs, moreover, were unusual. Their versions were rarely found in printed
sources and, where they were to be found, they were usually without music
(Hamilton 1974). One Tory singer, S6amus 6 Digain (Jimmy Duggan, 1928-
2000), had even succeeded in winning the men's competition at the Oireachtas
in 1981, achieving a rare break in the normally unchallenged hegemony of
Galway (6 Peicin 1997). It was their participation in these competitions and
their astute public exploitation of national stereotypes of the Gaelic West in a
national forum as a means of calling attention to their plight that initially
brought this previously "hidden" tradition to my attention and aroused my
curiosity.5 I resolved that I would try to learn more about the Gaelic singing of
Tory and attempt to learn some of its songs myself.
5 The idea that communities under threat may emphasize their distinctiveness as a defensive
strategy comes from the work of Anthony P. Cohen (1985).
0 LAOIRE Fieldwork in common places: an ethnographer's experiences in Tory Island
First experiences of song collecting
All of these developments were significant contingent factors prefiguring my
initiative in becoming a "collector" myself.6 The following narrative, then,
explores the two vantage points of personal history and academic history, and
their encounter with the history and experience of those Tory islanders with
whom I have been privileged to work over the years. In this narrative I examine
some interactions and negotiations which occurred, noting some of the failures
and successes of the experience, which finally resulted in the production of a
piece of work which I considered to be moderately successful.
In 1984, just before the beginning of the second year of my MA studies at
University College Galway, I visited James Meenan (1897-1991), who lived in
Ballyness, near my own home on mainland Donegal, with his niece Sarah
Boyle, her husband Eoghan and their family. I undertook the visit largely for my
own interest. It is also significant that I had learned of Jimmy Meenan and his
great knowledge of songs by reading about him in the University library
(Wagner 1981 [1958]:xx; Hamilton 1974). Because of my growing interest in
the style and repertoire of my home region, I wished to make contact with prac-
titioners of Gaelic song to collect songs from them. Another of my intentions
was the wish to acquire authentic style and material. My approach at the time
was consistent with a "product"-oriented attitude absorbed through my reading
and academic experience. Unusual variants and less commonly heard songs
constituted my view of authenticity, an attitude sanctioned in Ireland since the
official beginning of music collection.7 To those ends I approached Mary Boyle,
Jimmy's great-niece, asking if it would be possible for me to visit Jimmy and
collect songs from him. She said that it would, but warned me that he had for-
gotten many of his songs because of his advanced age and because he no longer
had the opportunity to practise them. Shortly thereafter I arranged a visit to the
house and, despite the warnings, I recorded twelve songs from him during the
6 The use of the word "collector" here reflects my understanding of what I was doing at the
time. The word, meaning one who gathers or records and documents folklore of any kind, is
still a popular and even prestigious term in Ireland and carries no stigma. (See, for example,
the description of my professional activities in Vallely 1999:xi.) Although they have been
problematized across ethnographic disciplines elsewhere, ethical concerns around gathering
traditional material and terminologies associated with such practices have not generally made
a widespread impression in Ireland, a situation due directly to the nationalistic ideals out-
lined in this article. Indeed, I would say that such debates have been quietly but deliberately
resisted, perhaps also because they are seen as detracting attention from the important work of
documenting the valuable and irreplaceable repertoires of older performers. Accordingly,
there is a reluctance to bring such questions into discussion. An understanding prevails that
individuals are either "suited" to fieldwork or not. Beyond basic instruction in the correct
operation of technology, it would be regarded as unusual to discuss training for fieldwork.
7 The organizers of the Belfast Harp Festival, writing in The Belfast News-Letter in 1792,
expressed a special interest in "airs not to be found in any public collection" (cited in White
1998:38).
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course of an afternoon. His niece, Sarah Boyle (1921-2001), also present during
our recording session, surprised me by seeming to be equally well versed in the
songs her uncle sang, correcting and prompting him on a number of occasions.
I went home that day well pleased with what I had achieved and soon began to
transcribe and learn some of the songs.
This was my first personal encounter with Tory singers, one that made a lasting
impression. It prompted me to go further and develop what became a fascination
with island practices of song transmission and performance. Although it did not
enter my head then, I eventually completed my Ph.D. dissertation on the topic
(6 Laoire 1999).
Problematizing the "field"
My account of this initial encounter may be considered somewhat naive, gloss-
ing over the relations of power inscribed in all cultural communicative processes
(Clifford and Marcus 1986:15). The acknowledgement of such a position, how-
ever, is the first step in gaining freedom from the "tyranny of hidden prejudices"
(Gadamer 1989:270) and in attempting to redress the imbalance. Here I discuss
my position as a cultural worker with the Tory community and its singers and
examine the political and social dynamics of that relationship, concentrating on
the ways in which it emerged through constant negotiation. As already noted,
my relationship with the islanders was formed in part within the framework of
the discourse of Irish folklore studies. In this case it would have been easy for
me, as someone from the area of mainland Donegal nearest to Tory, to represent
myself within that tradition in a way that viewed the islanders as a familiar
entity - a part of the same community - and played down their "otherness" (this
might, perhaps, even have been expected). Such a representation, however,
would have continued to sidestep those same dilemmas glossed over by earlier
workers, thus perpetuating a silence regarding the complexity and challenges
that characterized my shared encounters with the islanders. Various accounts
show that they consider themselves, and are considered by others, a distinct
group. Tory's geographical location and its position as an ocean-bounded island,
together with its distinctive Gaelic dialect - which is different in small but
important respects from mainland varieties of Gaelic - also contribute strongly
to this perception of difference.
Social class is, moreover, another important marker of difference. Although
Ireland's classlessness is often popularly proclaimed, it would be more accurate
to say that class in Ireland is not regulated in the same way as it is in England
(the usual point of comparison). The Irish lower middle class emerged as a
political and cultural force after the Great Famine of 1845-50. These "civilized
Victorian Catholics" (Taylor 1995:117-8) became producers of Ireland's priests
and teachers and they also largely controlled the local economy, leading one
commentator to label them tellingly a "shopocracy" (Mac Laughlin 1995:611).
Moreover, they were important cultural brokers, using the Catholic religion,
Irish history and language to create a nationalist construction of the glorious past
that existed before the advent of British domination. It has been argued that this
6 LAOIRE Fieldwork in common places: an ethnographer's experiences in Tory Island
narrative helped the petty bourgeoisie of Donegal to create an imaginary unity
under the banner of a common Irishness, further enabling it to consolidate its
hold over society and the economy. This hegemonic historical consciousness
was linked to sites in the landscape and gained some acceptance among the poor
of Irish society in ways similar to those observed by Gramsci in rural Italy
(Mac Laughlin 1995:583-624).
Contesting representations of Tory
Nevertheless, although it is mediated by reciprocal obligations of a client/patron
model, the relationship between town dwellers and islanders remains ambivalent
and equivocal. The fraught tensions inherent in this relationship are clearly evident
in an account from Dunfanaghy, a village on the Donegal mainland, given to
John O'Donovan of the Irish Ordnance Survey in 1834. O'Donovan relates:
I am very anxious to visit the fertile island of Tory, the inhabitants of which
have no religion, die as they come into this world, without the imposition of
the hands of Bishop or priest, and would be more rejoiced at seeing one
wracked Veeshil [sic] than all the men of God in Christendom. So the
Dunfanaghy men assert, but it is not easy to believe them.
(Herity 2000:29)
Opposing constructions of the islanders are also clearly visible in an exchange
of letters between Fr J. J. O'Donnell, the island priest, St John the Baptist Joule,
the island's nominal landlord (who had not received any rent in years) and the
"Torroneans" themselves, where the latter are alternately represented as poor
god-fearing Christians on the edge of starvation, as cunning opportunists and
petty criminals and, by themselves, as articulate defenders of their own cause
(O'Donnell et al. 1883).
The rise of cultural nationalism from the 1890s on, however, led to the estab-
lishment in 1906 of Coldiste Uladh, a Gaelic college where students came to
learn and to improve their command of the Irish language. Visits to Tory were a
great highlight for these language learners in Gaelic Donegal. Consequently
Tory, situated in the mythic West, could be imaginatively rehabilitated from a
bastion of wrecking pagans to a haven of "pure Gaeldom" and a very promising
site for a Gaelic revival (Anonymous 1899:15). Despite such a turn of events,
previous tensions continued - disguised, perhaps, but unabated. Fr 6 Colm, in
one of the fullest accounts written about Tory, several times records the preju-
dices of mainlanders towards the islanders, whom they consider to be "odd" and
"lazy" (1995:300-6). According to the islanders themselves, visiting writers
especially often made such claims in print, denying islanders the means to reply
in defence of themselves. 0 Colm points out that such distrust causes resentment
which leads many islanders to be shy and suspicious of strangers and reluctant
to part with information (ibid.:305).
Tory remains a site of cultural significance in Donegal. It has many mytho-
logical and early Christian associations and relics (Lacey et al. 1983) and is, as
previously mentioned, a stronghold of Gaelic language and folklore that are
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central icons in the consciousness of cultural nationalism. It is not entirely sur-
prising, then, that I, as a descendant of the rural Donegal middle class, exposed
both in the home and through the educational system to its values, should have
become interested in the Gaelic aspects of Tory's culture and especially in its
songs and music. My first contact - my collecting "folklore" from a local man
well versed in the traditions of the island - followed a well-established mode of
scholarly interaction, elevated, as I have said, to the status of national project in
twentieth-century Ireland. Although my account of it seems innocent enough,
reflecting my own narrow horizon of understanding at the time (Gadamer 1989:
302-3), this first meeting was certainly informed by the tensions and power
relations which I have described. In retrospect, it is clear that my understanding
during that initial encounter was limited by my own lack of experience and by
the kind of training I had received until then, which did not regard questions of
power as significant issues for research.
Other contacts - treading softly
I met more Tory people at Eigse Uladh, a well-known local weekend cultural
school in Gweedore, in March 1985. The theme that year was the islands of
Donegal and their future. Three of those whom I met - S6amus 6 Dtigain
(Jimmy Duggan), his wife Grainne and her sister Teresa McClafferty, both nieces
of Jimmy Meenan (my initial contact) - were later to become my consultants.
My first visit as an adult to Tory that was not a day trip was made at the begin-
ning of August 1987, during the island's summer festival. Earlier that year, in
June, I had been on the island with some Gaelic learners. During a music session
I had sung a song given to me by Jimmy Meenan. Jimmy and Grainne Duggan
were present and we had fallen into conversation. Griinne remarked that I had
sung one of her uncle's songs, one that not everyone on the island knew, and she
added that she had absorbed his songs in her youth - something of which she
was clearly proud. I had then asked her if she would consent to give me a few
songs if I returned, to which she agreed.
Encouraged by this reaction, I decided to record some songs during my
August trip. I packed a tape recorder and a microphone together with a bottle of
whiskey, which I intended to give as a token in exchange for the songs. My com-
panions included a friend who was a freelance journalist. He had never before
been to Tory and was financing the weekend by writing a piece for a national
daily newspaper. This seemingly harmless enterprise became the cause of my
first problem. The revelation of my friend's intentions caused something of a
stir. Someone told me that the other islanders were suspicious of the journalist
and were anxious to know what he would write about. In view of what I have
already said about the suspicion in which writers are held in Tory, this should
not have been entirely surprising to me. However, I was caught unawares as I
had mistakenly assumed that, because I was from the area, this would not be a
problem. I assured people that my friend meant no harm and only intended to
write a general piece about island life and something about the weekend festival.
This seemed to allay the islanders' suspicions. In any case, I succeeded in
0 LAOIRE Fieldwork in common places: an ethnographer's experiences in Tory Island
recording songs from the Duggan family and was well satisfied with the items
I collected. My friend subsequently published an innocuous account of the
weekend's events on the island which, to my knowledge, offended nobody. The
experience, however, was salutary in prompting me to examine some precon-
ceptions I had about my own stance in relation to the islanders. I realized that
if my interaction with the islanders, and especially with the singers, was to
continue on a positive footing, I would have to tread much more carefully and be
much more aware than I had been of possible sensitivities. The outcome of this
incident may be viewed as an expansion of my horizon of understanding as a
result of my engagement in fieldwork. I began to appreciate more fully the
tensions and challenges involved in an encounter where I was regarded as
"other", and where I would have to regard myself as such. Much later, I over-
heard a disparaging comment about people who came to Tory a dhdanamh
iontais - "to express surprise or wonder" - at the "quaint" ways of the islanders.
This striking phrase confirmed the islanders' dislike for, and resentment of, such
wonderment, which they regarded as intrusive and annoying.
An islander's agency and support
However, I was lucky. The process of familiarization was made easier by meet-
ing another islander in 1988. Eamonn Mac Ruairi, then aged 60, was also living
on the mainland. He was married to a mainland woman, Belle (Nf Ghallch6ir),
who had been a teacher on Tory for many years. Initially I visited Eamonn to
record songs from him and was received very warmly by himself and his wife.
In fact, it was apparent that he had a passionate interest in songs and music and
was pleased that someone else was taking an interest in them. I don't think I left
the house on that first visit until almost 2 am and, as I recall, I was the one who
finally called it a night. That was the first of many, many visits to the Mac Ruairi
household, often at first to record songs, but as time went on to visit socially and
sometimes just to sing. My meeting with the Mac Ruairis was a very important
breakthrough in my attempts to become more familiar with island life and
culture. Both Eamonn and Belle are extremely knowledgeable about all aspects
of island life and they encouraged my interest. On my next visit to Tory, in 1989,
I was accompanied by Eamonn. Because he had not visited the island for a
considerable period there was great interest in his arrival. During his visit he
called at the houses of his relatives and neighbours, and I was fortunate enough
to accompany him. In this way the islanders saw that I had the approval of a
highly regarded individual. This was crucial to me in "breaking the ice" with
them and, after that, the reception I received was noticeably friendlier.
Discussing this visit with Eamonn later, he commented, "Fuair siad aithne ort!"
(They got to know you!) - which was partly true. However, I remain convinced
that it was his agency as an advocate (Titon 1988:17) on my behalf that was the
crucial factor. I felt that an invisible line had been crossed and can say accurately
that it was from this moment that the "fusion of horizons" (Gadamer 1989:306)
between myself and a fuller understanding of island song practices and singers
began in earnest.
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"Tell the truth!"
The earlier misunderstanding with my journalist friend provided a caveat, how-
ever, that acceptance was not unconditional and could not be taken for granted.
I got an indication of this again in 1995 when I was asked by the leader of an
EU Horizon programme to introduce a video of island dance traditions that had
been filmed during a weekend dance workshop. I agreed and went to Tory dur-
ing midsummer (23 June) to perform the launch. The event coincided with the
second set-dancing workshop to be held on the island, and many visitors had
travelled to Tory to participate. At about 11 pm, as arranged, I stood up and spoke
of the importance of the Tory dance and song tradition, stating that it was appro-
priate that a community so long renowned for its music and dancing should be
celebrated in a video such as this. I also expressed gratitude to the islanders for
their encouragement of my interest and their generosity in passing their songs on
to me. Having already seen the video, I did in fact have serious reservations
about its lack of a pedagogical underpinning. Although the footage was visually
excellent, it appeared to me that the verbal commentary did not support the
visual material in a clear and gradual exposition. This meant that it was difficult
to tell what exactly was being danced and when. I realized, however, that the
launch was not the time to comment on the film's shortcomings. There would be
ample opportunity for that subsequently, amongst the islanders themselves.
As soon as I had finished my speech, I returned to my seat near some of the
singers I had recorded. Grainne Duggan remarked to me: "D'inis td an fhirinne
ci bith. Diirt td go bhfuair ti do chuid amhran i dToraigh. Is iomai duine eile
nach nd6anfadh sin." (You told the truth anyway. You told them that you got
your songs in Tory. Many's another one wouldn't do that.) I was surprised to
have this said so directly to me, but was reminded of another occasion when
Teresa McClafferty had said to me: "Tusa an t-aon duine a inseos go bhfuair s6 a
chuid amhrain i dToraigh. Is iomai duine eile a thiinig go Toraigh agus a thug
amhriin leo as, ach go brich char dhiirt siad gur i dToraigh a fuair siad iad. Ach
sin rud amhain fi dtaobh diotsa, d6arfaidh td i gc6nai gur i dToraigh a fuair ti do
chuid amhrin." (You're the only one who'll say that he got the songs in Tory.
Many's another came to Tory and got songs, but they never acknowledged that it
was in Tory they got them. But that's one thing about you, you'll always say
where you got your songs.)
I was glad that I had thanked the islanders personally in my speech and also
felt honoured a little later when they got up to dance a demonstration set for the
benefit of the visitors who had travelled to the island for the workshop. One of
the women approached me and indicated that I was to partake in the demonstra-
tion, although there were other islanders who were far more competent dancers.
This moment, in retrospect, seems to define the constitution of the relationship
for me. It appears to be based on a positive reciprocal dynamic that is renewed
with every encounter between an ethnographer and the community in which
he or she is active. It can never be taken for granted but must be developed and
nurtured in much the same way as any personal friendship.
0 LAOIRE Fieldwork in common places: an ethnographer's experiences in Tory Island
A negotiated relationship
This dynamic also needs to be monitored regularly. During a recent visit with
Teresa McClafferty the talk turned to some of the others who had in the past
worked in Tory. In particular, the discussion centred on how, at one time or
another, they had displeased the community and how the boatmen had refused
to take them across the channel. Teresa turned to me and said, "S6, coimheid
thusa thu fh6in!" (So you watch yourself!) On another occasion, however, she
remarked: "Ar nd6ighe, ta tu mar dhuine againn fh6in" (Sure, you are like one of
ourselves). These two statements encapsulate neatly the dialectical matrix within
which my experiences as an ethnographer may be framed. On one hand, I must
tread carefully because of the work I am conducting, while on the other, I am
seen as having a kind of kinship with at least some islanders. An initial
encounter with one individual proceeded outwards to other members of the
community. From being an unknown and potentially hostile entity, I reached a
position where a certain trust was earned, allowing the formation of closer
friendships - always, however, on the proviso that the relationship retained a
healthy balance. Such an attitude can arguably be regarded as another instance
of the dialectic of appropriation and distanciation, this time from the islanders'
point of view.
My new status was positively facilitated by one of the islanders, Eamonn
Mac Ruairf, through his own status as a prestigious member of the community
and his encouragement of my interest in his community's traditions. The build-
ing of this trust over a fifteen-year period was crucial to my ability to complete
my Ph.D. dissertation. When in 1997, during the writing-up process, I felt that I
needed more primary material to support and enrich my arguments, I went to
Tory to conduct more research and was able to record successful interviews on
matters of interest to me and to gain excellent material precisely because the
islanders knew me well and trusted that I would not misrepresent them.
The contract of trust - a two-sided entity
The earning of trust, however, is predicated on a continuing respect for the island's
people and their ways. Kay Kaufman Shelemay has written of the "implicit con-
tract" between an ethnomusicologist and a tradition's native carriers to ensure its
preservation and transmission (1997:198). I would extend such a concept to
include all encounters between the cultural worker and those whose culture is
being documented. Ethnographers do not deal only with the transmission and
preservation of culture but also with the negotiation of ethical relationships
satisfactory to themselves and those with whom they work. As Lauri Honko has
remarked of relations between a folklorist and a community:
On the one hand, he has a personal relationship with his informants, while on
the other hand he has an instrumental role in the formation of knowledge
within the confines of the rules of scholarship.
(Honko 1991:27)
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This dialectical relationship continued to concern me as I wrote. I wished to
mediate the dangers of misrepresentation by giving my writing a dialogical
dimension advocated by scholars such as Tedlock (1983) and Glassie (1982).
This was, of course, not entirely possible as, according to academic convention,
I was responsible for producing the work and was therefore unavoidably saddled
with the "burden of authorship" (Geertz 1988:138). However, I had a strong
wish to exercise caution and not to reveal material which, although it might
appear commonplace to scholars, could be considered sensitive and inappro-
priate for publication by the community. Despite the constraints imposed by
the academy, I decided that it would be ethical to include my consultants in
decisions about the description I was in the process of producing - an approach
similar to that adopted by Jeff Todd Titon in the Appalachian Baptist community
with which he worked (1988). With this in mind, I gave Belle and Eamonn
Mac Ruairf chapters of the work to read as I completed drafts. They both
corrected several small but important factual errors and pronounced that the rest
was "only the truth", which I took to mean that they were satisfied with the
narrative that had been produced and agreed that it was a faithful representation
of the experiences they had shared with me. Although this strategy is not without
its own problems because the sometimes abstruse language of academic discourse
is often difficult for general readers, I remain convinced of its importance.
Whatever cognitive challenges the theoretical approaches may have presented,
Eamonn had the opportunity to read his own verbal testimony and to censor
anything with which he disagreed. Moreover, I knew that his wife, Belle, as a
teacher with a tertiary education, would be sufficiently familiar with academic
language to spot any serious blunders of representation.
Challenges to accurate representation
When dealing with individuals, however, it is clear that what may be acceptable
to one might not be appropriate in the case of another. In another section of my
Ph.D. dissertation I referred to a performance by Hannah Duggan (1893-1988),
the mother of Sarah Boyle, Teresa McClafferty and Griinne Duggan. This
recording was made in the house of her daughter, Griinne, and son-in-law,
Jimmy, during the August visit in 1987, when Mrs Duggan was 95 years old.
Because of her great age and, probably, the pressure of having a microphone
thrust in front of her by a stranger, she made a number of errors, although
because of my unfamiliarity with the song she sang I did not realize this.
Griinne, however, vehemently informed me that the performance was "wrong"
and that I was not to learn the song from that recording. In fact, she wanted me
to erase it from the tape. I persuaded Griinne that I would record the song a sec-
ond time from her husband Jimmy, and a little later in the session I recorded
what was regarded as a correct version from him. This solution seemed to satisfy
Griinne. Long after this I understood the value of having two texts of the same
song where the second is performed specifically as a correction of the first. I
could compare the two texts as examples of "wrong" and "correct" versions of
the song which could throw important light on island perceptions and standards
0 LAOIRE Fieldwork in common places: an ethnographer's experiences in Tory Island
in these matters, using the one considered faulty to highlight and interpret what
is valued as good and desirable in the other. This was indeed what I did.
However, since it potentially portrayed their mother in an unfavourable light
I was concerned as to how Teresa and Grainne would receive such an analysis,
so when the dissertation was finished I sent them and all my other consultants
copies. I subsequently heard nothing about it from Teresa or Griinne, but when I
next met them I asked if they had received it. They said that they had and no
more was said about it. I wondered whether they had actually read it closely,
again because of the challenges presented by the academic language I had used.
Therefore, one night when I was visiting with Teresa, I read my comparative
discussion of the two performances to her. When I had finished, I asked if there
was anything she didn't like about it. She said that there wasn't, that it was fine,
and that it portrayed the island view of correct song texts and performances.
During the summer of 2002 I had the opportunity to visit Grainne shortly
after sending her a copy of my newly published book, a revised version of my
dissertation, detailing the poetics of entertainment on the island,with a particular
focus on song. During our conversation she said that she thought I shouldn't
have included the recording of her mother's faulty performance, saying that it
didn't sound good. I tried to explain that I had used it deliberately to show how
much care people took to get the song text correct, adding that the contrast
between her mother's version and her late husband's illustrated this in a way that
it would have been difficult to do as clearly by other means. To reassure her that
I meant no disrespect to her or to her mother, I read out the section where the
two performances were discussed. Her misgivings about my editorial choices
seemed to be somewhat allayed by this, but I was again made aware that, even
within the same family, individuals can and do interpret matters in completely
opposite ways. This set me thinking that, despite my efforts, other parts of the
book might also cause unintentional offence. Now that it is freely available, I
have no doubt that other islanders' judgments of my book will provide further
insights into the challenges and hazards of conducting ethnographic research and
of the slippage that may occur in the metamorphosis of experience into text.
Confronting one negative reaction such as this is a reminder of ethnography's
untidy difficulties, and leads me to consider a number of other potential pitfalls
in my approach. The number of people with whom I have worked in Tory is
relatively small and is, in fact, more or less confined to the members of two
families - Eamonn Mac Ruairi and his wife on one hand and the extended
Duggan, McClafferty and Boyle families on the other. In getting to know these
individuals well, it has been easier to work with them and to discuss song, music
and dance and their role in Tory life. I am aware, however, that my own prefer-
ence for working with these people has meant excluding other potential collabo-
rators from my research. Enjoying friendly and easy communication with some
individuals can lead to a somewhat complacent or naive attitude and a reluctance
to seek out new directions (Titon 1988:17). One of the greatest challenges in
entering a community is to identify those who are sympathetic to the project and
who are willing to invest their own time and skill in it. This forms, in a sense,
one side of the contract. The ethnographer's side of the bargain, where material
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is always scrupulously credited to those from whom it was received, may also
result in leaving out others, which in turn may give rise to suspicions of favouri-
tism and bias among those not consulted. The fact that certain individuals facil-
itate the project - because of their own interest or for other unarticulated reasons
- must result in, at best, a partial truth (Clifford 1986), confirming Geertz's
(1973:29) assertion that:
Cultural analysis is intrinsically incomplete. And, worse than that, the more
deeply it goes the less complete it is. It is a strange science whose most
telling assertions are its most tremulously based, in which to get somewhere
with the matter at hand is to intensify the suspicion, both your own and that
of others, that you are not quite getting it right. But that, along with plaguing
subtle people with obtuse questions, is what being an ethnographer is like.
(Geertz 1973:29)
As one's horizon of understanding shifts in response to the activity of appropri-
ation, one's focuses may also change, directing the scholarly gaze ever more
minutely at particular individuals, situations and narratives. In the maintenance
of friendships, such a narrowing risks an unwitting participation in, and perpetu-
ation of, existing rivalries and enmities in a myopic exclusion of other equally
valid viewpoints. For example, my published work includes a CD of archive
material and items from my own collecting. This has invariably meant editorial
selection which included some singers and excluded others. I am unsure at
present how those who were not included view such editorial choices, but can
easily surmise that there may be some disgruntlement. John and Jean Comaroff
summarize the issues succinctly:
The lines between the "internal" world of any society and the "external" uni-
verse beyond are neither preordained nor fixed. They shift as processes of
engagement take their course, and they alter relations of power and produc-
tion. They shift too at the level of experience and representation ...
(Comaroff and Comaroff 1992:91)
These are challenges that no ethnographer can avoid but must learn to deal with in
an ethical way. Realignment and reorientation of one's research may become more
difficult as bonds of affection and reciprocity become established and sedimented.
An awareness of these constraints is crucial, even if this understanding can only
very marginally mitigate the limitations they impose. Without such an open and
nuanced approach, however, the ethnographer's viewpoint runs a very real risk
of perpetuating the tyranny of hidden prejudice that he or she seeks to overcome.
Anthony Seeger has remarked that "fieldwork is a delicate exchange of infor-
mation and a subtle interaction of personalities, set within a larger socio-eco-
nomic context" (1987:20), a statement which has been borne out by this paper.
Using "specific instances of discourse" (Marcus 1986:14), I have highlighted
some of the pitfalls and tensions that I have encountered as an ethnographer.
It might be justifiably read as the continued enactment of one class's privilege
and hegemony over another. Although I have tried to show that this has been
mediated by a turn towards a dialogic strategy, it is evident that any gains from
adopting such a stance continue to be contingent and limited.
0 LAOIRE Fieldwork in common places: an ethnographer's experiences in Tory Island
Care and reality
Rice comments on the way in which his concern for the welfare of his main
consultants in Bulgarian music motivated him to behave in ways which he did
not identify with "theory and method in the field". Because of an analytical and
scientific training, he was inclined to separate this kind of action from "real"
work, although he distinctly identifies his success in the learning of Bulgarian
music with his "care" for the Varimezov family. Arising from this insight, and
invoking phenomenological hermeneutics, he advocates a mediation between
objective scientific method and experience gained from the engagement with
tradition. He argues persuasively that such a strategy
... may provide a pathway from the outside, with its cultural alienation,
toward the inside by means of appropriation and understanding. Instead of
generalized insiders, the "hermeneutical" arc may provide another pathway
from the inside, with its cultural engrossment, toward the outside by means
of distanciation and explanation.
(Rice 1997:119)
The notion of "care" cogently suggests the idea of an ethics of practice as a
necessary element of fieldwork, which parallels my own description of the
negotiation of a position of situated friendship with my consultants. In my case
it was not a one-way movement but an encounter where the positions of all
involved shifted gradually over time to appropriate a new position and a work-
able accommodation. As I have described here, my own experience of coming
to understand the musical and singing traditions of Tory Island were predicated
upon such a mediation, to the extent that the formation of good interpersonal
relations greatly facilitated my learning. Conversely, however, this may have
resulted in an unintended selective narrowing of the potential of the project.
In the end, I must accept this as a limitation that I have only become aware of
as, having reached a conclusion of sorts, I am able to contemplate the process
of engagement and appropriation in a more distanced manner. I am forced to
consider that some of those with whom I have not worked may not view my
involvement as a positive development, believing rather that I would do much
better to mind my own mainland business!
I have not discussed my role as performer of the Tory song repertoire except
in passing, although I consider it to have been another important factor in
achieving the position that I have described. This dimension also helped me to
reduce the distance between myself and the islanders. Mark Slobin (1992:25)
has argued that the "moment of enactment" of music may, to some extent,
remain impervious to "supercultural givens" so that participants can work out a
shared vision where pride is asserted and where ego disappears. I consider this
to be one of the primary benefits of Hood's idea of "bimusicality". On visits to
the island I am usually asked to perform at the island dances and I usually
perform an island song. This could possibly be seen as a misappropriation of
their repertoire for my own purposes, but my consultants appear to be satisfied
as long as I acknowledge the provenance and sources of my songs, which I am
always careful to do. For one reason or another, however, my performances are
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not always successful as I am prone from time to time to make serious mistakes
in song lyrics. This subjects me to the same kind of censure which island singers
experience when they sing, and my errors are similarly criticized. Making mis-
takes in performance, therefore, can be considered an advantage since it further
contributes to a reduction of social distance. Being a performer has also been
significant in that, in Teresa McClafferty's case, my singing voice is considered
to resemble closely that of another islander. Regardless of such a perception's
"objective" truth, it seems to me that, like her assertion of imagined kinship, this
can be interpreted as another indication of her approval. The recognition of such
cultural competency by an island singer is a welcome sign of acceptance and a
defence against negative attitudes. As a reinforcement of affective bonds, how-
ever, it also underlines the attendant limitations that such bonds may impose.
Lawrence J. Taylor's anthropological exploration of the consciousness of
Donegal Catholics, following Schneider (1990), remarks on the discourses of
"equity consciousness" (Taylor 1995:161, 253) and reciprocity inscribed in nar-
ratives associated with holy wells and drunken priests, among other phenomena.
Pitt-Rivers (1971) also distinguishes between capitalist attitudes to wealth and
those of "Alcala", the Andalusian village where he worked. He found that,
although there were differences in the wealth of individuals, this wealth by itself
conferred no special status on anyone. Through their friendships, people were
judged to be equal in moral terms, and it was in the dispensing of wealth that
moral judgements were made. I have striven to make such equity consciousness
and moral reciprocity salient features of my encounters with those individual
islanders with whom I work. Each of us tries to keep the equilibrium in a moral
balance where, in symbolic terms, all of us are to some extent equal. However,
since it is impossible to know every islander's opinion, this equity is de facto
confined to interaction with select individuals. Although I remain convinced that
my friendships require constant care and attention in order to maintain them, I
am unsure as to the ways in which such interaction has influenced the attitudes
of others. If I have indeed incurred the dissatisfaction of others, it is a regrettable
but now unavoidable development. My position as an "engaged" worker has
been maintained, but has been tempered and adapted in relation to my growing
experience and academic reading - a constantly shifting horizon.
Instead of a futile search for the "pure essence" of Gaelic Ireland, I now
regard my project as part of a reflexive attempt "to carry on with patience the
endless work of distancing and renewing our historical substance" (Ricoeur
1981b:246). In the end, then, fluidity and continuity are features of my relation-
ships with the Tory islanders. Contemplating these ties in a distanced way has
identified ways in which they may be deficient, and constant vigilance and
re-adjustment will be required in any attempt to redress such imbalances.
0 LAOIRE Fieldwork in common places: an ethnographer's experiences in Tory Island
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Note on the author
Lillis 0 Laoire lectures in Irish language and literature at the University of
Limerick. He is also director of lonad na nAmhrin at the Irish World Music
Centre, University of Limerick, an archival and performance project focusing on
traditional song in Ireland. His book Ar Chreag i Ldr na Farraige: Amhrdin
agus Amhrdnaithe i dToraigh, on the song traditions of Tory Island, was pub-
lished in 2002 by C16 Iar-Chonnachta. He is preparing for publication an
English language book based on the same material. Currently (2002-03) he is
visiting professor (Irish Studies) at Loyola Marymount University, Los Angeles.
Address: Department of English, Loyola Marymount University, Suite 3800
University Hall, 1 LMU Drive, CA 90045, USA; e-mail: lolaoire@lmu.edu.