How UNESCO shaped the study of Irish traditional music

The concept of intangible cultural heritage was developed by UNESCO from 2001 onward to designate specific cultural traditions that merit international recognition. Ireland holds four entries on the relevant UNESCO list, two of which are musical: uilleann piping was inscribed in 2017 and harping in 2019. UNESCO's official documents define cultural heritage at considerable length, covering oral traditions and expressions—including language as a vehicle of intangible heritage—performing arts, social practices, rituals and festive events, knowledge and practices concerning nature and the universe, and traditional craftsmanship.

What intangibility means for music

Strikingly, the concept of intangibility itself receives no definition in those same official documents. This omission is particularly unfortunate given how appropriate the term is for music—the art of playing with sounds—and even more so for the study of music. The word "intangible" comes from the Latin tangere, meaning to touch, and has come to signify "that which cannot be touched."

A slow start for Irish academic attention

For reasons that might fill a whole volume, Irish academics have been notably slow to turn their attention to traditional music over recent decades. Mícheál Ó Súilleabháin defended the very first doctoral thesis on the study of Irish traditional music in 1987, within the anthropology department of Belfast's Queen's University. Over the following forty years, fewer than thirty-five PhDs related to the subject were awarded across Ireland. This general neglect of traditional music also appears in major sociological studies of Ireland. The work of Luke Gibbons, Brian Fallon, Terence Browne, and Eugenio Biagini with Daniel Mulhall mostly omits Irish music or mentions it only in passing. The situation looks even starker in continental Europe, where very few researchers—Axel Klein in Germany is a rare exception, though his focus is twentieth-century art music—seem to recognise music's significance in Irish culture.

To put it bluntly, music remains invisible—or more precisely inaudible—in the concert of Irish studies, especially in France and across continental Europe. This has often led me to question my own research and its intrinsic value. When such doubts arise, I occasionally ponder "What's the point and what's the use?" Hannah Arendt's famous reply immediately springs to mind: "What is the use of the use?" But that would hardly be a satisfying answer for those of us working in the field.

Music as a gateway to Irish history

I continue to believe that music offers one of the main gateways to understanding Irish history. Over thirty years of researching Irish music, I have grown increasingly aware of its importance—not only within Ireland itself, but also among the Irish diaspora, in festivals, in pubs, and on the Internet.

The diaspora's scale

Recent statistics on the size of the Irish diaspora vary widely depending on the criteria applied. The official government report of March 2015 itself remained quite vague, stating "it is believed that there are up to 70 million people around the world claiming Irish ancestry and heritage" while acknowledging that "there is no clear evidence to support this figure, but it certainly runs into the tens of millions." A 2014 OECD report suggested that around 17 percent of those born in Ireland currently live abroad. It comes as no surprise that Irish music is especially well established in countries where the diaspora has been active for centuries: England, the United States, Canada, and Australia, among others.

The global Irish pub phenomenon

One consequence of the diaspora is that virtually every major Western city—and many beyond that sphere—now has at least one Irish pub, often provided by a turnkey service company such as The Irish Pub Company, which has specialised in "Crafting authentic cultural experiences since 1979." Whatever style of Irish pub you prefer, they will build and furnish it: gastro pub, Victorian pub, brewery pub, country pub, shop pub, Celtic pub, and so forth. Most—if not all—of these establishments worldwide host Irish music sessions organised by local musicians who may have little or no connection to the Irish diaspora.

Beyond the diaspora: newer recruits

A more recent phenomenon is the growing popularity of Irish music summer schools and dance classes outside the diaspora. Across Europe, Asia, and South America, most local musicians do not claim any particular Irish ancestry; they seek primarily to practice and perfect their technical skills in music and dance. This trend has been observable since the 1970s throughout Europe, as explained by Dutch uilleann pipes maker Marc van Daal, who described his first encounter with the pipes at a concert by the then-unknown Irish band Planxty in 1975 and his instant addiction to the instrument.

For context, it is worth examining familiar examples of Irish music's spread beyond the diaspora. In Europe, France and Germany were—and remain—the primary areas of expansion. The Irish Folk Festival was created in 1974 by Carsten Linde in Karlsruhe. The interest in Irish music in France, for quite different reasons, began in the west of the country. Breton musician and collector Polig Montjarret (1920 – 2003) was the main driving force behind cultural links between Brittany and Ireland, leading to the first Breton-Irish twinning in 1975 between the cities of Lorient and Galway, and to the creation of the Festival interceltique de Lorient in 1971—still one of Europe's largest festivals, attracting over 700,000 visitors annually.

Spreading to Paris and beyond

This first wave of Irish music on the continent then moved to Paris, carried by the Breton diaspora. The French capital became a hive of activity, primarily centred on a restaurant called Ti Jos and the Mission bretonne in Montparnasse—an association founded in 1947 to help Breton people in and around Paris. That activity quickly led to the creation in 1981 of the band Shamrock, whose members won the All-Ireland title at Kilkenny's Fleadh Cheoil in 1984. The Irish Music Center opened in Paris in 1982, followed by the Irish Association of Paris in 1984. More bands, like Taxi Mauve and Hempson, along with expert players such as uilleann piper Marco Pollier, harper Katrien Delavier, and fiddler Christian Lemaître, also emerged. Some French fiddlers, including Patrick Ourceau and Philippe Varlet, emigrated to the United States in the 1980s, where they enjoyed highly successful careers teaching exclusively Irish music.

Online and offline communities in France

One consequence of this global musical upsurge, beyond the organisation of sessions across France, was the rise of electronic exchanges on the Internet. The first and primary mailing list, called "Irlandetradfr," was created by Dominique Renaudin in 1998 and has since become a Facebook page with over 3,500 subscribers. Several websites also maintain weekly records of Irish music sessions taking place throughout France, and the list is remarkably long.

Most of France's major cities—and some smaller towns too—host associations dedicated to Irish music and dance, with regular sessions. Some of these associations (and occasionally individuals) have organised summer or winter schools devoted to Irish music. The most significant of the summer schools was founded in 1991 in Dordogne by two French fiddlers, Claude Fossaert and Philippe Giraud. Every July, the Rencontres irlandaises de Tocane attract the crème de la crème of Irish musicians; more than 200 different Irish musicians have taught there over thirty years.

Recognition from the Irish Traditional Music Archive

The unique importance of Tocane was confirmed when the Irish Traditional Music Archive took an interest in 2014. Museum director Nicholas Carolan explained this unprecedented recognition beyond the Irish diaspora: "It seemed a perfect sample of globalisation […] but there wasn't any documentation. And one of our remits is to document Irish traditional music […] not just in Ireland, not just among the Irish diaspora, but worldwide because we're interested in all performers of Irish traditional music wherever they are."

The session as ritual

These gatherings give musicians from across France a chance to meet "for real"—not only via the Internet. The main activity at such summer schools is encapsulated in the new verb sessionner (also used by French video gamers): players spend long hours performing the great classics of Irish trad, and if possible learn novel, rare melodies until well into the night or early morning.

In an ideal session—where the French musicians are passionate and truly excellent—it is very hard for most listeners to distinguish a French fiddler or uilleann piper from an Irish one; you would almost believe you were in Ireland. These gatherings of a new era are not without some religious overtones. A high priest—or anchor musician—coordinates the session, and all the elements of classical liturgy appear: songs and recitatives, music and dance, devotion to the great figures of the past, the ritual of tuning instruments, the sacred jargon, the tacit communion that flows from one melody to the next, the passion some musicians have for tune titles, private remarks and whisperings, and "prayers" to the waiter. Almost like an Irish session, but not entirely; if not for the near-complete absence of laughter and loud conversation, it could certainly sound like a session in Dingle or Gweedore.

After a few days—sometimes amounting to up to fifty hours of music-making—everyone leaves the town in a state of bliss and ecstasy, determined to improve their technique or expand their repertoire so that they can return the following year better prepared, musically and physically.

Many such musicians have become recognised professionals of Irish music in France. Though long-lasting groups are rare, a number of bands—including Blackwater, Broken String, Dirty Linen, Doolin, Faolan, Gaolta, Garlic Bread, Poppy Seeds, Shelta, The Boys in the Gap, and The Rolling Frogs—have made a name for themselves.

Three reasons for academic attention

Returning to the question of why one would take an academic interest in Irish traditional music, I can identify at least three reasons.

First, music—like any constituent part of the chemistry of popular culture—is a comprehensive process that has infinitely more to offer scholarship than what the ear of the musicologist can perceive. It stands at the crossroads between art and other fields: sociology, history, anthropology, economics, literature and drama, religion, gender studies, and even law, philosophy, geography, and psychology. The research possibilities within this domain are almost limitless; each chapter of its past or present history could justify a book or a doctoral dissertation in its own right.

Secondly, music prompts a reflection on tradition itself, and tradition is at the heart of the intangible heritage question. The word "tradition" comes from the Latin tradere—to bequeath or transmit—and thus stands at the centre of our everyday lives. Traditional music is, by definition, a deeply rooted process that adapts continually to the context that generates it. Working on Irish traditional music therefore involves reflecting on a collective past, but also on our collective future. Many forms of traditional music have disappeared over the last two centuries, but Irish music has not suffered that fate; on the contrary, it thrives. Figuring out why and how some traditions vanish while others flourish is a fascinating line of inquiry.

Third, music embodies the original function of social exchange and bonding within a community.

During the century following 1700, what we now think of as “trad music” turned into an instrument of nationalism in both Ireland and its diaspora, transforming into something original. Lately it has spearheaded Ireland's identity and economic revival through the music industry, while retaining a genuine function in daily life for amateur players. The Irish diaspora again played a critical part in keeping the tradition alive. We can now begin to think about the music’s future and the part played by musicians outside the diaspora.

A third reason for studying this music is that—though vital to understanding Ireland—it is almost missing from ongoing academic conversations in France and across continental Europe. Exploring why raises several questions: Is studying music seen as the domain of musicologists alone? Is music too pervasive and elusive to grasp, present everywhere yet nowhere? Is it simply hard to define, quantify, or analyse? Or is there a mutual indifference between the Irish music community and academia in general?

I have noticed over the years a striking gap between two realms: the Dagda world and the DADGAD world. Academics are thoroughly familiar with the Irish mythological figure of the Dagda, while folk musicians all know the guitar open tuning DADGAD. Very few people understand both, and such a divide creates missed opportunities and persistent misunderstandings.

The fact remains that music studies of Ireland in France are literally “unheard” and intangible. Meanwhile, Ireland has achieved a genuine tour de force: offering the world a distinctive cultural feature while preserving a living role for it inside Irish society. This two-sided success is all the more remarkable because it has restored international validation of Ireland’s identity, mostly on world stages.

Questions of cultural identity have sparked heated debates in Western countries since the 1990s, with renewed interest especially at the start of the 21st century in France. French philosopher François Jullien argued: “Il n’y a pas d’identité culturelle pour une raison très simple, c’est que les cultures sont collectives et ne cessent de changer. Une culture qui ne change plus est morte.” [20] For Jullien, cultural identities do not truly exist because culture is always moving and therefore evades fixed identity. Yet identity—like tradition—can and should be seen as a journey, a provisional outcome. Simon Frith explained in his 1996 study that:

> Identity is not a thing but a process – an experiential process which is most vividly grasped as music. Music seems to be a key to identity because it offers, so intensely, a sense of both self and others, of the subjective in the collective. [21]

Thus culture is not simply about “living together” but about “doing and making together.” That shared creative activity forms the fabric human beings cannot do without:

> […] without tradition which selects and names, which hands down and preserves, which indicates where the treasures are and what their worth is – there seems to be no willed continuity in time and hence, humanly speaking, neither past nor future. [22]

For Irish music, this means it has become both an immediate expression of Irish culture and a piece of global artistic heritage. It emerged as Ireland opened up to the world after the 1960s. Some Irish people, observing their music crossing national borders, may feel deprived of something they helped create. The same must have happened with blues, jazz, flamenco musicians in the past. Perhaps musicians in New York today feel similarly as rap music is reappropriated worldwide. Yet like blues, jazz, tango, rap, and reggae, traditions have no owners identities are not property.

One striking consequence of deterritorialisation of Irish music is the focused attempt to repatriate it. The somewhat fragmented Irish music world has worked to reterritorialise its creative resources through campaigns to secure spots on UNESCO’s Intangible Cultural Heritage list for the uilleann pipes and the harp.

Another major novelty of this early 21st century is the possibility for anyone to choose the identity that suits them. My claim is that cultural identity not only exists but has become more a matter of choice, not a given. People can decide to be Irish inside the diaspora, but they can also make that choice from outside as well. Just as the Irish diaspora in the US and England proved crucial to shaping a 20th-century reality, the future survival and development of Irish music may happen through new, unforeseeable extensions of diaspora.

The purpose here was twofold: first to show that Irish traditional music is not just intangible in the UNESCO sense—unable to be touched—but is also “inaudible” in Irish studies in France and continental Europe, too interdisciplinary and elusive. Second, that Irish traditional music in France represents an extension of the diaspora, a choice, and a bridge we should use more often to explore new territory. And to build more bridges between two worlds that currently ignore each other, for everyone’s gain.