Jane Ohlmeyer, a leading historian of early modern Ireland and empire, spoke to The Indian Express on the sidelines of the Jaipur Literature Festival about the long afterlives of the Empire and the deep, often uncomfortable connections between Irish and Indian histories under British rule. A historical consultant and associate producer on From That Small Island: The Story of the Irish, Ohlmeyer reflects on Ireland’s dual position as both colonised and complicit, the transfer of imperial practices from Ireland to India, and why these shared histories matter today. Edited excerpts:
India features prominently in the documentary you have worked on. Why is the Ireland–India connection central to understanding the Empire?
We discuss the relationship with India, which goes back over 400 years, to the 17th century. Ireland was part of the British Empire, a bit like India. You were the largest colony; we were one of the oldest. And imperialism is complicated: the Irish were victims of imperialism, but we were also active perpetrators of it. We piggybacked on the empires of Britain, France, Spain – many European powers – which is why Irish communities exist almost everywhere.
The Irish were, in many ways, servants of the Empire in India. But there were also Irish subversives within the imperial system. There were ways in which Irish political experience influenced Indian ideas of resistance and freedom struggle, particularly in Bengal, though not only in Bengal.
We filmed in Mumbai and Delhi, and other filming was done in Kolkata. India comes across as vibrant, the cinematography is beautiful. We filmed in 17 different locations, including India. There’s a 90-minute feature version, which is what’s at the Delhi Film Festival and what we’re screening in Delhi and Kolkata in March. And there is also a four-part documentary series where we go into much greater detail.
When the British came to India, they brought Irish people with them, often in positions of power. How do we look back at that fraught history?
By the 19th century, about two-thirds of the British army in India, meaning the White soldiers, were Irish. But many were Irish-Catholics and treated as if they were indigenous sepoys. They were not allowed to become officers. The officers were typically Anglo-Irish Protestants.
This raises a difficult question: Ireland provided enormous “cannon fodder” for the British army. Why? Largely because there was no economic opportunity at home. Many volunteered, not because they were ideologically committed to the Empire, but because grinding poverty leaves you few choices.
Outside Belfast in the north, Ireland was not industrialised, most of it was agricultural, consciously shaped to provision England. Ireland supplied food and also human capital for the army. Earlier, it also supplied indentured servants to the Caribbean. Ireland’s biggest export, historically, has been people.
Were policies and practices perfected in Ireland later adopted by the British in India? If so, which ones?
Yes, many. Education is one. By the nineteenth century, curricula developed in Ireland were taught in India. Policing is another. Both India and Ireland had coercive models of policing—armed policing. Many were trained in Dublin. Political governance structures also matter: viceroys, presidencies. These were developed and refined in Ireland and exported to India. And personnel matter too: many bureaucrats who served in India were Irish or trained in Ireland. This is a huge story, but it isn’t widely discussed. Even in Ireland, people forget. Ireland was a laboratory for the Empire.
A map showing locations of India and Ireland. (Wikimedia Commons)
Episodes like Amritsar complicate Irish narratives of colonial victimhood. How should historians approach this?
A difficult example is Amritsar. General [Reginald] Dyer was educated in Ireland. The lieutenant-governor of Punjab at the time was [Michael] O’Dwyer, an Irish-Catholic from Tipperary. Irish people often struggle with this: they were not representing Ireland, but they were of Ireland. O’Dwyer even saw himself as an Irish nationalist. As historians, we must tell the story holistically, including the dark side. We can’t pretend it didn’t happen.
You have said history can be a dangerous political weapon. Why is that warning especially relevant to colonial pasts like those of India and Ireland?
History can be a very dangerous political weapon in the wrong hands. It’s extremely important not to weaponise history. We need to tell stories from multiple perspectives and recognise that there’s rarely a single “right” version. History has many mothers. I object whenever history is used in a politicised way. Of course things are contested—artefacts are one example, and the Koh-i-Noor diamond is an obvious one in the Indian context. The Irish are complicit in taking things, including from India, but things were also taken from us. A third of Ireland’s landmass was expropriated to bring in colonists. The first requirement is to understand complexity and nuance. And it’s not about judging, it’s about understanding. That is a profound difference.
Partition links Ireland and India in particularly enduring ways. How do you see that shared legacy today?
The legislation that partitioned Ireland was the same legislation later used to partition India and Pakistan, and also informed partition elsewhere, including Israel and Palestine. Ireland was a laboratory for the Empire. But there is also hope. Ireland is now seriously discussing reunification. Maybe Ireland can offer hope to places that can’t even have such a conversation yet. I grew up in Belfast during the Troubles in the 1970s. It was inconceivable to me then that we’d be having this conversation today. But here we are. Ireland has moved forward economically and socially; it’s progressive. The Catholic Church no longer dominates public life in the way it once did.
There have been cases of attacks against Indian immigrants in Ireland in recent years. How do you look at this trend?
First, about 20% of the people living in Ireland today were not born in Ireland. In the United States it’s about 15%, so Ireland is proportionally more diverse in that sense.
There is a genuine sentiment in Ireland that people who come are welcome, we aspire to be cosmopolitan. The Indian community is significant. I heard today it’s about 165,000 people, which is roughly 3% of Ireland’s population.
The vast majority are well-assimilated and respected. They are essential to the health service and the tech sector, and they are neighbours and friends. There is, however, a minority of a minority that resents anyone coming in. They commit racist acts and get attention, which is unfortunate, because focusing on them gives them oxygen.
Most people’s lived reality is the opposite: a strong level of inclusion and community. At my university, after Irish students, Indian students are among the largest groups. We celebrate Diwali and Holi, people bring so much to Irish society.
A historical consultant on From That Small Island: The Story of the Irish, Jane Ohlmeyer reflects on Ireland’s dual position as both colonised and complicit. (Credit: COCO Content production company/Jaipur Literature Festival) 
A map showing locations of India and Ireland. (Wikimedia Commons)
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