by Timothy Egen
An Irish girl guarding her family’s last few possessions
after eviction for nonpayment of rent, during the potato famine. A wood
engraving from The Illustrated London News, April 1886.
CreditPrint Collector/Getty Images
IN advance of St. Patrick’s Day, I went time
traveling, back to the 1840s and Ireland’s great famine. On one side of the
Irish Sea was Victorian England, flush with the pomp and prosperity of the
world’s mightiest empire. On the other side were skeletal people, dying en
masse, the hollow-bellied children scrounging for nettles and blackberries.
A great debate raged in London: Would it be wrong to
feed the starving Irish with free food, thereby setting up a “culture of
dependency”? Certainly England’s man in charge of easing the famine, Sir
Charles Trevelyan, thought so. “Dependence on charity,” he declared, “is not to
be made an agreeable mode of life.”
And there I ran into Paul Ryan. His
great-great-grandfather had fled to America. But the Republican congressman was
very much in evidence, wagging his finger at the famished. His oft-stated
“culture of dependency” is a safety net that becomes a lazy-day hammock. But it
was also England’s excuse for lethal negligence.
There is no comparison, of course, between the de
facto genocide that resulted from British policy, and conservative criticism of
modern American poverty programs.