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An apology posted by Eoin Hayes on social media this week as photos were published of him wearing blackface in 2009. Eoin Hayes

Opinion Turning this into a witch hunt helps no one - but blackface is not 'just a joke'

We all need to speak out against racism to stop racist actions being normalised, writes Dr Ebun Joseph.

WHEN A SITTING TD is shown in blackface, it’s not only about his past mistake. It’s about the culture that allowed it, the silence of bystanders, and the responsibility of leaders to set a better example for the future.

In today’s digital age, nothing we do stays private for long. Images of Social Democrats TD Eoin Hayes in blackface as Barack Obama in 2009 have resurfaced, and what might once have been dismissed as a student prank now raises serious questions about leadership, accountability, and the example set for young people.

Hayes’ past is not just a personal mistake — it is a reminder that careless actions can leave long shadows.

Hayes has apologised, calling it a “huge mistake” and “completely inappropriate”. He has said that he did not then understand the harm of blackface, but now recognises its offence. His apology is necessary.

But is it enough to leave it there? The incident forces us to ask deeper questions about what blackface represents, why it cannot be excused, and what it means for those who hold public office in an Ireland that is increasingly multicultural.

The roots of blackface

Blackface is never just a costume. Its origins lie in 19th-century American minstrel shows, where white performers darkened their skin, exaggerated features, and ridiculed Black people as lazy, ignorant, or buffoonish.

These stereotypes helped justify slavery, segregation, and exclusion from civic life. The practice spread into European popular culture, including Britain and Ireland, where “blacking up” became part of theatre, television, and even seasonal festivities.

For Black people, seeing their skin colour mocked and caricatured has never been funny — it has been a reminder of their outsider status, a reinforcement of humiliation and exclusion. That history is why, when politicians appear in blackface, even in their pasts, it matters. It is not harmless fun. It is participation in a long tradition of racial mockery.

Why leaders cannot excuse it

Some might argue that Hayes was not a politician in 2009, merely a Students’ Union president at UCC. But leadership roles matter even then. Student leaders shape campus culture, and those who go on to political careers should be held to a higher standard. More importantly, what leaders do speaks louder than what they say.

If young people see elected officials brushing off racism as “just a joke”, they learn that such behaviour is excusable. That is how harmful practices are normalised.

Political leadership carries with it a responsibility to embody the values of equality and inclusion, not just advocate for them in speeches or policies. Blackface undermines credibility unless the person has shown, through actions since, that they understand the harm and have worked to counter it.

A pattern among politicians

Hayes is not the first public figure caught out by blackface.

Former Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau admitted to wearing “brownface” at a party. In the US, Virginia Governor Ralph Northam faced calls to resign after a yearbook photo surfaced of him in blackface.

Time and again, we see politicians apologising for past missteps they once considered harmless, but which are now recognised as deeply offensive.

The recurring nature of these scandals suggests not just individual failings, but a wider cultural blindness to racism — a blindness that must be confronted, not excused.

There is also a broader lesson about digital culture. Materials we once thought private can resurface years later. Young people should not post things they would not want to defend in the future, and politicians must understand their pasts will be scrutinised. 

The Irish context

Ireland today is not the Ireland of 2009. More than 13% of our population was born abroad, and Black Irish children now grow up in classrooms across the country. For them, seeing a sitting TD in blackface — even in an old photo — is not a detached history lesson. It is a reminder of being mocked, excluded, or othered.

At the same time, Ireland aspires to present itself internationally as a country committed to equality, diversity, and inclusion. That aspiration rings hollow if we fail to reckon with racism at home, including when it appears in the pasts of our leaders.

And we must also ask ourselves a harder question: what makes such behaviours possible? It is beyond what Hayes did, and more about what enabled it. Why was it not frowned upon then? Why did friends say nothing? Why did organisers allow him into a venue? Silence makes us all complicit. Schools, universities, and institutions must reckon with how racism is normalised in plain sight, and how bystanders’ inaction allows harm to continue.

Beyond apology: has change happened?

This is not about punishing Eoin Hayes forever, nor about using his mistake as a weapon for political point-scoring. Many politicians, if we looked hard enough, may have skeletons in their closets. Turning this into a witch hunt helps no one.

It is fair for voters, and especially minority communities, to ask questions about politicians if information like this is revealed about them. In the years since, have they engaged meaningfully with Black and minority communities in Ireland? Have they spoken out on issues of racism, equality, or representation?

If a politician says that their behaviour has changed, it is reasonable for voters to ask for evidence. Have they delivered any Dáil speeches, made public policy interventions, or sustained media engagements specifically about the lived experience of Black or minority ethnic people in Ireland? These are the types of evidence that could show words have been matched with actions.

Conclusion

Blackface is not harmless. It is not funny. It is not simply youthful foolishness. It is part of a long history of demeaning Black people — and when our leaders are implicated, even in their pasts, we are right to take it seriously.

Eoin Hayes’ apology matters. But what matters more is whether his record since then shows learning, engagement, and commitment to equality. Ireland’s increasingly diverse society deserves leaders who not only avoid repeating the mistakes of the past, but who actively work to repair the damage those mistakes represent. Because young people are watching, and the example our leaders set — through both past actions and present accountability — will shape the Ireland we become.

Dr Ebun Joseph is Special Rapporteur for racial equality and racism Ireland, CEO & founder of the Institute of Anti-racism and Black Studies (IABS), and coordinator of the Black Studies module at University College Dublin.

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