Latest / The History of Ireland: Rebellion, Empire, and Independence — Fexingo History / The 1913 Lockout: Dublin Workers vs William Martin Murphy
Transcript
- Lucas: So we've covered a lot of ground in this series—battles, rebellions, famines—but there's one event that's often overshadowed by the Easter Rising, even though it directly set the stage for it. I'm talking about the Dublin Lockout of 1913. Luna: The Lockout—that's the big workers' strike, right? Against William Martin Murphy? Lucas: Exactly. Murphy was the classic 'captain of industry'—owned the Dublin United Tramway Company, the Irish Independent newspaper, the Imperial Hotel on Sackville Street. He was incredibly powerful, and he despised trade unions. In 1913, the Irish Transport and General Workers' Union, the ITGWU, had been organizing his tram workers, demanding recognition and better pay. Murphy's response? He fired 40 workers who were union members, and on August 26th, the union called a strike. But Murphy didn't stop at the tramways. He forced his other employees to sign a pledge renouncing the union, and when they refused, he locked them out. Soon, 20,000 workers were out on the streets. Luna: So the 'lockout' wasn't just a strike—the employers shut the workers out. Lucas: Right. And the conditions in Dublin at the time were absolutely dire. The city had some of the worst slums in Europe. Families lived in single-room tenements, often without running water or sanitation. Disease was rampant, and poverty was crushing. The workers had nothing, and Murphy knew that. His strategy was to starve them into submission. Luna: And that's where James Larkin comes in. Lucas: Larkin was a firebrand. He was a towering figure, both physically and rhetorically. He'd come from Liverpool, but he made Dublin his battleground. He organized mass meetings, gave impassioned speeches, and used the ITGWU's funds to support the strikers. But the employers had their own weapons. They formed the Dublin Employers' Federation, and they brought in scab labour from Britain, including railway workers who crossed the picket lines. That created a lot of bitterness. Luna: What about the police? There were those famous baton charges, weren't there? Lucas: Yes, the Dublin Metropolitan Police, under orders from the authorities, broke up meetings with extreme violence. The most infamous incident happened on August 31st, 1913, on Sackville Street—that's O'Connell Street today. Larkin had been banned from speaking, but he showed up disguised and climbed onto a balcony of the Imperial Hotel—Murphy's own hotel—to address the crowd. The police charged, beating men, women, and children indiscriminately. Two workers were killed, hundreds were injured. It became known as 'Bloody Sunday', but that name later got attached to a different event in 1920. Luna: So the police were just brutal. But wasn't there also a plan to send the children of strikers to Britain? Lucas: Ah, the 'Dublin Kiddies' scheme. The British trade unions offered to take the children of striking workers into their homes temporarily, to relieve the pressure on the families. Larkin and the ITGWU accepted. But the Catholic Church stepped in and condemned it, claiming the children would be placed in Protestant homes and lost to the faith. The church, led by Archbishop William Walsh, actually organized mobs to block the children from leaving the port. It was a huge controversy, and it divided the labour movement. Luna: So the church sided with the employers, essentially. Lucas: Not entirely—the church was anti-socialist, but it also had its own complex motivations. The lockout dragged on for five months. By January 1914, the workers were starving. The union's funds were exhausted. Larkin and others were arrested and imprisoned. Eventually, the workers had to go back, signing the hated pledge. The lockout was a defeat—on paper. But it galvanized a generation. Many of the workers who had been locked out later joined the Irish Volunteers and fought in the Easter Rising. James Connolly, who was also deeply involved, saw the lockout as proof that Ireland's struggle was class-based, not just nationalist. Luna: So in a way, the lockout radicalized the people who would later lead the revolution. Lucas: Exactly. Michael Collins was working in London during the lockout, but he was deeply affected by it. Sean O'Casey wrote his play 'The Plough and the Stars' partly based on the events, showing the human cost. And Liberty Hall, the union's headquarters, became a center for the republican movement. It's amazing how one industrial dispute reverberated through history. Luna: It's easy to forget that the fight for independence wasn't just about politics—it was about bread and butter too. Lucas: Absolutely. And that's what I love about digging into this episode—it connects the dots between social justice and national liberation. The lockout is a reminder that history is made by ordinary people demanding dignity. Luna: If today's conversation gave you a new perspective on that struggle, you might want to help us keep these stories coming. We keep the show ad-free, and that only works because of listener support. You can find us at buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. Lucas: Yeah, it really does make a difference. Every little bit helps us keep digging into the details that textbooks often skip. And speaking of details—let's talk about what happened after the lockout ended, because it wasn't the end of the story. Lucas: After the workers went back, many were blacklisted—they couldn't find work anywhere. The union was weakened, but it survived. And just a few months later, World War I broke out, changing everything. The promise of Home Rule was shelved, and the focus shifted to the war effort. But the bitterness of the lockout fueled the growing republican sentiment. When the Easter Rising came in 1916, the leaders knew they could count on the support of the locked-out workers. Luna: So the lockout was like a dry run for the revolution—a trial by fire. Lucas: Exactly. And it also produced one of the most iconic moments in Irish labor history: the 1913 'Baton Charge' photograph, showing a lone worker being beaten by police. That image became a symbol of resistance. The lockout may have been a tactical defeat, but it was a moral victory. It showed that Dublin's poor would not be crushed without a fight. Luna: It's amazing how many threads lead back to 1913. I want to know more about the actual negotiations—was there any attempt at mediation? Lucas: There were attempts. The British Board of Trade tried to intervene, but Murphy refused to compromise. The famous British trade unionist Ben Tillett came over to speak, but the employers wouldn't meet him. There was even a suggestion that the British army would be brought in to run the trams, but that didn't happen. The lockout was really a war of attrition, and the workers were outgunned. Luna: But they didn't give up easily. I read that the women played a huge role, setting up soup kitchens. Lucas: Absolutely. Countess Markievicz, who was a nationalist and a feminist, helped organize the Women's Workers' Union and ran a soup kitchen at Liberty Hall. She also distributed food in the tenements. Other women like Helena Molony and Dr. Kathleen Lynn were deeply involved. The lockout was a radicalizing experience for many women, who later went on to fight in the rising and the war of independence. Luna: So the lockout was truly a community effort—everyone had to pitch in to survive. Lucas: Yes, and that sense of solidarity carried forward. It's one of those events that, even in defeat, planted seeds for the future. The lockout is a powerful chapter in Irish history, and I'm glad we finally got to cover it.