By Tim Flynn

History is often shaped by the survival of a single individual. Had events unfolded differently in August 1922, Ireland's twentieth century may have followed a radically different course. Instead of decades shaped by Éamon de Valera's constitutional nationalism, the Irish state might have been moulded by Michael Collins's pragmatic developmentalism. Yet this alternative history raises a deeper question than whether Ireland would have become wealthier sooner or integrated into Europe more quickly. It forces us to consider what Irish independence was actually for, and whether the republic that emerged fulfilled the democratic and social aspirations that inspired the struggle for freedom.

For generations, the standard critique of twentieth-century Ireland has been a material one: a story of economic stagnation, protectionism, and the bitter reality of the emigrant ship. We look back at the long shadow of Éamon de Valera and rightly question whether material prosperity and social development were too often sacrificed on the altar of symbolic sovereignty. Yet the strongest version of this critique runs far deeper than a balance sheet of wealth or poverty under Michael Collins. The real question is not simply whether Ireland would have become wealthier sooner under the Big Fellow. It is whether the entire political culture of the Irish state, and potentially the wider history of the British Isles, would have developed a fundamentally different understanding of nationalism, sovereignty, and modernity. The consequences of such a change would have extended beyond economics into questions of identity, religion, governance, and Ireland's place in the wider world. A different outcome in August 1922 might have produced not merely a different government but a fundamentally different republic.

When Michael Collins was killed at Béal na Bláth in August 1922, a thirty-one-year-old revolutionary died. But so too did one possible future for Ireland. The history that followed was shaped instead by Éamon de Valera, who would dominate Irish public life for much of the next half-century and leave an indelible imprint upon the institutions, culture, and identity of the independent state. Had the outcome been reversed, Dublin's relationship with London might have developed along different lines, while the political meaning of partition may also have changed. Ireland's economic strategy could have become more outward-looking decades earlier than it ultimately did. The state itself might have evolved less as a constitutional project and more as a developmental one. Of course, any assessment of a Collins-led Ireland involves a degree of speculation because his death deprived historians of the opportunity to observe how his revolutionary leadership would have translated into peacetime government.

The Nation-Builder

The most significant difference between Collins and de Valera may have been psychological rather than political. De Valera embodied a form of nationalism rooted in sovereignty, constitutional development, cultural revival, and the unfinished business of independence. His political instincts consistently drew him towards questions of national identity and constitutional legitimacy. Collins, by contrast, appeared to possess the instincts of an executive nation-builder. He was a man of organisation and administration whose achievements during the revolutionary period rested upon practical effectiveness rather than constitutional theory. Where de Valera often asked what Ireland should be, Collins seemed more inclined to ask what Ireland needed. That distinction may seem subtle, but it could have had profound implications for the direction of the new state.

Yet Collins should not be romanticised as an apolitical pragmatist. In the turbulent circumstances of the early 1920s, practical nation-building was never ideologically neutral. Collins was a revolutionary who emerged from a violent struggle against British rule, and his commitment to state authority was considerable. Had he survived, Ireland might have developed into a more centralised and technocratic state focused upon infrastructure, industry, administrative competence, and economic growth. Such a strategy may have accelerated modernisation and reduced some of the economic hardships associated with later decades. At the same time, it would not necessarily have produced a more equal society. History offers many examples of rapidly modernising states that generated prosperity without delivering broader social justice.

Britain and the Wider World

One of the defining features of de Valera's political career was his determination to remove the remaining constitutional links with Britain. This effort eventually succeeded and represented a significant achievement in the development of Irish sovereignty. Yet it also ensured that Irish politics remained heavily focused upon constitutional questions for years after independence. Political energy that might otherwise have been devoted to economic development was frequently consumed by debates about symbols, institutions, and the legacy of the Treaty. Collins appears to have recognised that geography outlasts history. Whatever his hostility toward British rule, he understood that Britain would remain Ireland's closest neighbour and most important economic partner.

A Collins-led Ireland might therefore have pursued a different relationship with Britain. Cooperation could have been driven less by sentiment and more by practical necessity. Trade, investment, and infrastructure may have become priorities sooner than they did under de Valera's more protectionist model. Such an approach might have stimulated economic growth and reduced the scale of emigration that characterised much of twentieth-century Ireland. Yet there would have been risks as well as opportunities. Economic integration could have brought prosperity, but it might also have deepened Ireland's dependence upon British markets and wider global economic forces.

Partition and the North

The question of partition remains one of the most intriguing aspects of this counterfactual. De Valera never accepted partition in principle, yet many critics have argued that the character of the southern state made reunification less attractive to those within the unionist community. A state closely associated with Catholic culture, Gaelic nationalism, and constitutional claims over territory it did not control offered little reassurance to Northern Protestants. In practice, constitutional declarations did little to alter the reality of the border. The tragedy of partition therefore became increasingly entrenched as the decades passed. Nationalists continued to hope for unity, but practical pathways towards achieving it remained elusive. A different political strategy might have produced a different outcome.

Collins approached such questions as a pragmatist rather than a constitutional theorist. He was less interested in declarations and more interested in practical outcomes. A Collins-led state may have sought to weaken partition through trade, infrastructure, investment, and economic interdependence rather than constitutional symbolism. A rapidly modernising southern economy could have exerted a powerful pull across the border, particularly among business and commercial interests. Yet economic attraction alone would not have resolved deeper questions of identity, religion, and political allegiance. Partition was not merely an economic problem waiting for a technical solution. It was rooted in competing national loyalties that could not be dissolved through prosperity alone.

Would the Church Have Ruled?

One of the most enduring criticisms of twentieth-century Ireland concerns the extraordinary influence exercised by the Catholic Church. That influence extended into education, healthcare, social policy, and substantial parts of public life. De Valera's Ireland became closely associated with a conservative moral order that reflected Catholic teaching and assumptions. Critics have long argued that this inhibited social development and narrowed the boundaries of public debate. Yet it is worth asking whether a Collins administration would have pursued a fundamentally different course. The answer is far less obvious than many of his admirers assume.

The Church's dominance predated de Valera and reflected the realities of Irish society during the early decades of independence. Religious orders already operated much of the country's educational and healthcare infrastructure. Collins may have been less inclined than de Valera to provide constitutional recognition to religious institutions, but he would still have faced the practical challenge of governing a poor country with limited administrative resources. In those circumstances, partnership with the Church may have appeared less an ideological preference than a necessity. A Collins-led state might therefore have looked more secular in tone while remaining surprisingly similar in practice. The relationship between Church and State could have been less symbolic but no less significant.

Europe Before Europe

Had Collins survived, Ireland might have looked outward much sooner than it ultimately did. The shift towards economic openness that emerged under Seán Lemass and later accelerated through European integration could conceivably have begun decades earlier. Industrial development, foreign investment, and international trade may have become central objectives of the state from its earliest years. Such a strategy could have reduced emigration and increased prosperity across much of the country. It may also have integrated Ireland into wider economic networks long before membership of the European Economic Community became a realistic prospect. In this sense, some of the characteristics associated with modern Ireland might have emerged earlier. The difference would have been one of timing rather than destination.

Yet contemporary Ireland reminds us that economic success does not solve every political problem. The country's remarkable growth over recent decades has also produced new challenges, including housing shortages, inequality, and pressure on public services. Earlier integration into global markets may have generated wealth sooner, but it may also have exposed Ireland earlier to economic volatility and financial crises. The strengths and weaknesses of modern Ireland cannot be separated from the same forces that transformed its economy. Prosperity has improved countless lives, but it has also generated new social and political pressures. The lesson is that growth alone is not a substitute for good governance. Economic dynamism and social cohesion remain distinct political objectives.

The Republic We Actually Got

The most revealing aspect of this exercise is what it tells us about contemporary Ireland. In many respects, modern Ireland appears closer to the future Collins might have recognised than the one de Valera imagined. The country is outward-looking, globally connected, economically open, and increasingly diverse. The influence once exercised by the Catholic hierarchy has diminished considerably, while debates about economic growth, housing, healthcare, and public services now dominate political life. Younger generations tend to view Ireland through a European and international lens rather than solely through the prism of post-independence nationalism. This is a very different society from the one that emerged during the middle decades of the twentieth century. It is difficult to avoid the conclusion that Ireland has, in important ways, travelled beyond de Valera's original vision.

Yet it would be a mistake to frame modern Ireland as a simple vindication of Collins. The institutions that underpin Irish democracy owe a significant debt to de Valera's statecraft and constitutional legacy. The stability of the state, its democratic durability, and its capacity to reform itself peacefully are achievements that deserve recognition. At the same time, contemporary Ireland continues to wrestle with housing shortages, regional inequality, pressure on public services, and the unresolved question of Irish unity. National success has not eliminated difficult political choices. Instead, it has changed their form. The challenge facing Ireland today is remarkably similar to the challenge facing Collins and de Valera in 1922: how to transform political independence and economic achievement into security, opportunity, and dignity for all citizens.

Perhaps, then, the lesson of this counterfactual is not that one man was right and the other wrong. De Valera helped construct institutions that proved remarkably durable and adaptable. Collins may have accelerated economic development and international engagement had he survived. Both contributed something important to Ireland's story, even if only one lived long enough to shape it directly. A century after the Civil War, Ireland remains one of Europe's notable democratic success stories, but it remains unfinished. The republic has travelled a remarkable distance since independence. The question of where it goes next remains as open as ever.

About the Author

Tim Flynn is a Brisbane-based writer originally from Ashton-in-Makerfield and Southport in North West England. His work focuses on Irish history, politics, identity, regional culture, and the experience of the Irish diaspora. He has written extensively on Irish affairs, exploring the intersection of nationalism, social change, and historical memory. His essays have appeared across a range of Irish and international platforms and often examine the political and cultural legacies that continue to shape contemporary Ireland. He was awarded Best of 2020 by Sense of Place magazine for his writing and is the author of a historical novel exploring themes of migration, belonging, and identity. Through his work, he seeks to connect the experiences of Ireland's past with the challenges and opportunities of its present.

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