I HAVE a confession to make. I’m a third Irish, according to the DNA test my sister bought me for Christmas, yet it took me 40 years to learn anything about the history of Ireland. As the crow flies, I live closer to Dublin, where my grandmother was born and spent most of her childhood, than I do to London. Yet I’ve never even spent a drunken weekend on a stag do in Temple Bar.

My only introduction to Irish culture was singing rebel songs with my aunts, uncles and cousins at my grandparents’ house on Boxing Day each year. My mother used to tell me about her Irish dancing lessons and my aunt recalls being in a dance troupe called “Sinn Fein.” But over time, as the family grew and mixed with English blood, that sense of Irishness seemed to fade.

I’m not alone. Some estimates suggest over six million people in Britain and Northern Ireland are entitled to an Irish passport — more than the population of the Republic of Ireland itself! Yet I’d wager that one thing many of us share is our ignorance of Irish history.

I like to think of myself as fairly well-read. I’ve always devoured books on history, both fiction and non-fiction, and my geography degree included units on the rights of nations to self-determination and the geography of identity — topics that really should have mentioned Ireland. I’ve even taught some history to secondary school pupils. Yet, in all this time, Ireland barely got a mention.

I could talk to you about the partition of India, but not Ireland. I could tell you all about the British military’s role on the North-West Frontier in what is now Pakistan, but almost nothing about the sacking of Cork. Sure, part of this is down to my own fickle interests — my grandfather served in India during the war, so it fascinated me — but some of the blame must also lie with the media and the English education system.

What makes it even stranger, in retrospect, is that the IRA was an ever-present part of my childhood. I remember school trips being cancelled due to bomb scares, and my sister was on the train to Manchester when the 1996 Manchester bomb exploded.

The media often featured sinister figures in balaclavas, who we were told were terrorists. They were everywhere — on TV, in movies, in novels. Yet, at school, we were never told why the bombs were exploding or why British soldiers patrolled the streets of Belfast and Derry.

If anything, it was explained away as sectarian violence between Catholics and Protestants, something that “started in the 1970s.” This narrative, which served the interests of the British ruling class, is often reinforced in schools. A textbook for GCSE citizenship students states that “the Troubles” began in 1971 when the first soldier was shot dead. There’s no mention of the preceding 800 years of colonialism.

I had a quick look through the National Curriculum, and Ireland barely gets a mention. At Key Stages 1 and 2, there’s a reference to a Scots invasion from Ireland. At Key Stage 3, there’s non-statutory guidance suggesting schools might teach about Oliver Cromwell in Ireland or Home Rule, but teachers are free to ignore these and use other examples.

History isn’t even compulsory at Key Stage 4, and of those who do choose it for GCSE, most won’t study Ireland in any detail — if at all.

Decolonising the curriculum has gained traction in recent years, and rightly so. The sins of the British empire have come to the forefront in many schools, thanks in part to the Black Lives Matter movement. Yet Britain’s first colony — Ireland — is rarely mentioned. Anti-Irish discrimination meanwhile remains rife in Britain. From the “No Blacks, No Dogs, No Irish” signs of the past to the lazy stereotypes that still linger, the Irish have long been marginalised.

That said, interest in Ireland seemed to rise post-Brexit, as people scrambled to find Irish ancestors in the hope of securing an EU passport. Duolingo tells me there are 42 times as many people learning Irish on its app as there are native speakers. Readers of this paper may be more educated on this topic than the average reader.

Marx, Engels and Lenin, after all, all talked about the centrality of the Irish question in the proletarian struggle, and many revolutionary groups see Ireland as a partner in a shared struggle. In fact, a plaque at the corner of O’Reilly Street in Old Havana reads: “Cuba and Ireland, two island peoples in the same sea of struggle and hope.”

For me, my journey into Irish history and culture began almost by accident. I was researching my family tree and came across an address on my great-grandfather’s marriage certificate. When I looked it up, I found a news article from September 1920 reporting the arrest, court-martial and subsequent release of my great-great-grandfather, “a well-known Republican,” under the Defence of the Realm Act.

Further digging unearthed a history unknown to anyone in my family. My great-grandfather, Patrick Brennan, played a role in the Easter Rising, the war of independence and the civil war. The more I researched, the more I realised that the story of early 20th century Ireland could be told through the lives of my ancestors.

With the help of friends, family and researchers in Ireland, I’m slowly unpicking a story that reads like an adventure novel. Had it not been for this chance discovery — and the brilliant work of archivists who’ve made so much information available online — I’d still be ignorant of this fascinating period.

As trade unionists, socialists and educators, we should remember the words of James Connolly: “The cause of labour is the cause of Ireland, the cause of Ireland is the cause of labour.” The history of Ireland is so tightly interwoven with that of Britain it cannot be ignored and we must push for it to play a more prominent role in our curriculum. That way we can ensure that the next generation grows up understanding the full story of Britain’s past — not just the parts that suit the ruling class.

So this Saint Patrick’s Day, by all means, have a Guinness and stick on The Dubliners — I know I will — but why not also pick up a book on Irish history or listen to a podcast? Not only is it an important part of our shared history, but it’s a cracking tale, too. Slainte!

Robert Poole is a teacher, union rep, assistant district secretary for Bolton NEU and editor of the journal Education for Tomorrow.