How Modern Television Grapples with the Silence of Irish History

Published: January 05, 2026

Author: Liz Dowell

Photo by Loryn O'Neill

When history major Rebeka Frailey stepped to the front of the classroom, she carried more than a stack of notes. She took a question that has quietly followed historians for decades: How do we tell stories rooted in conflict without flattening the truth? Her research presentation, “Say Nothing: Modern Television & the Silence of Irish History,” explored what happens when entertainment and contested memory collide — and why the stories we tell about the past still matter today.

A Century of Tension

Frailey began by grounding her audience in early 20th-century Ireland, a land still shaped by British rule and deep social divides. Native Irish Catholics, she explained, made up most of the population but held little political power. Protestant Anglo-Irish communities — though smaller — controlled government and industry.

The tension escalated in 1921 when Ireland was partitioned under the Government of Ireland Act 1920. The southern region became an independent republic, while the six northern counties remained part of the United Kingdom.

For Northern Irish Catholics, the impact was immediate. “They faced discrimination in jobs, housing, and education,” Frailey said, describing a community effectively frozen out of opportunity.

Resentment built. By the late 1960s — inspired by the American civil rights movement — young Catholic activists began marching for equal rights. Violent backlash from Protestant Unionists soon followed.

“What emerges from this era,” Frailey said, “is not a simple Catholic-versus-Protestant story, but a collision of identity, politics, and generational wounds.”

From Protests to Paramilitaries

Amid the growing violence, the Provisional Irish Republican Army (IRA) was formed in Northern Ireland. Intended initially to protect Catholic communities, it evolved into a powerful paramilitary group seeking to expel British forces and unite Ireland under a socialist republic.

The British Army deployed troops. Unionist paramilitaries responded. The Troubles — a conflict marked by bombings, raids, civilian casualties, and international headlines — defined the 1970s and 80s.

By the 1990s, political pathways toward peace emerged. The Good Friday Agreement of 1998 established a fragile but lasting framework for shared governance.

“It didn’t end disagreement,” Frailey emphasized, “but it ended the regular presence of armed conflict.”

Photo by Loryn O'Neill

Turning Conflict Into Television

With this turbulent history as a backdrop, Frailey shifted to the heart of her project: Hulu’s recent series Say Nothing, based on the acclaimed nonfiction book of the same name.

The show follows several real members of the Irish Republican Army, including sisters Dolours and Marian Price—prominent Irish republicans closely linked to the IRA. Their father, Albert Price, was himself a member of the organization, and one of their aunts lost both hands while preparing hand grenades for a republican operation.

In the early 1970s, the sisters became involved in republican women’s groups before eventually joining the Provisional IRA. The series traces their lives, along with those of others, across decades of political upheaval.

Frailey praised the production’s craft: “The acting was strong, the sets were immersive, and the narrative structure — which jumped between decades — was handled with clarity.”

The challenge, Frailey argued, comes from what historian Hayden White called “artificial emplotment.”

History itself is not naturally a story — it has no built-in heroes, villains, or satisfying arcs. When writers shape history for audiences, they must choose which facts to emphasize and which complexities to compress. Television demands emotional payoffs.

“The show needed a narrative,” Frailey explained, “and choosing that narrative meant stepping away from the ambiguity real history lives in.”

In a region where memories remain raw and political identities are inherited like family heirlooms, any simplification becomes a distortion. Even when done with care.

Why It Matters

One audience member recalled watching the Troubles unfold on American news, where the IRA was consistently labeled a terrorist organization. Another noted that the conflict was often framed purely as a religious one between Catholics and Protestants. National identity, colonial history, and civil rights each played an equally powerful role.

These reactions reinforced Frailey’s core argument: popular representations of history often shape public understanding more than primary sources ever will.

Even so, Frailey believes there is still value in watching shows like “Say Nothing.” “It tries to remain even-handed,” she said. “It’s not perfect. No historical drama is. But it can spark curiosity. The danger comes when we assume the dramatized version is the whole truth.”

And perhaps time itself will open the door to better retellings. Many documents from the Troubles remain sealed. Many who lived through the conflict are still alive, still grieving, and still divided.

“Authentic storytelling may become easier when the wounds are not so fresh,” she said.

Resolution: The Responsibility of Storytellers

Frailey ended her presentation with a paradox fitting of her subject. To tell the whole truth of contested history, a storyteller may need to resist the very instincts that make stories satisfying. Not every question has an answer. Not every arc resolves cleanly. Sometimes, the most responsible way to engage with painful history is to acknowledge what cannot be known.

“In a way,” Frailey concluded, “to portray the Troubles honestly, writers may have had to, quite literally, say nothing.”