THIS Monday marks the centenary of the beginning of the Dublin Lockout in 1913. Frequently referred to as an "epic struggle", at its height it involved the locking out of 20,000 workers as employers refused to recognise their right to be members of the Irish Transport and General Workers Union (ITGWU). From the labour movement's perspective, the arch villain of the crisis was William Martin Murphy, an avowed nationalist and hugely successful entrepreneur who owned the Irish Independent and was chairman of the Dublin United Tramway Company and president of the Dublin Chamber of Commerce.

From 1911, Murphy led the Dublin employers' resistance to the ITGWU led by James Larkin, whose ambition was to organise unskilled labourers into one big union, with the stated aim of seizing control of the economy and abolishing capitalism.

Murphy's argument was that Dublin needed more capitalists and he insisted he would only deal with "respectable" unions.

He depicted Larkin as an irresponsible, egotistical demagogue determined to go to war with church and state, and suggested the ITGWU was no more a legitimate union than "a pirate ship".

The war of words was only one aspect of the Lockout. An estimated 100,000 people, one-third of the city's inhabitants, were affected by the strike and suffered greatly during a five-month battle that in the short-term was lost by the workers, who in January 1914 were told by Larkin to return to work as best they could. During one Lockout protest, two men died after a baton charge by the Dublin Metropolitan Police, hundreds were injured and many tenement homes were destroyed in revenge police raids.

It became a defining event for the Irish labour movement not just because of what was sacrificed and the suffering experienced but because the issues that were central to it – class, power, the right to collective bargaining, union membership and free assembly – remained of relevance for decades afterwards and do so to this day.

The struggle needs to be placed in a broader political context; with a home rule Ireland on the horizon, it was also a power struggle in relation to who would control such a self-governing Ireland.

The militancy of the marginalised was feared by Murphy, a severe but more complex man than his enemies acknowledged. His reputation has been somewhat rehabilitated in recent years. Historian Patrick Maume concluded: "It is hard to like Murphy, but difficult not to respect him. He was a scornful professional surrounded by complacent bunglers and windbags."

Likewise, Larkin was a complex character; courageous and inspirational, he was also a difficult colleague and shamelessly encouraged an unhealthy cult of personality. Crucially, Larkin revolutionised Irish trade unionism by lessening dependence on the British labour movement, and in doing so laid the basis of the modern Irish labour movement and made possible the unionisation of unskilled workers, as well as elevating the strike tactic to a new level. The urgency and vigour in the labour movement in the early 20th century was profound and there was a belief that it was not necessary to wait for middle-class endorsement in order to bring about a new socialist regime. This ambition could not have existed if it were not backed by an extraordinary commitment to hard work.

But in terms of the legacy of the Lockout and its relevance for today, there is a tendency to focus on a noble defeat and the triumph of human spirit rather than acknowledge that those who fought the battle, though they ensured that trade unionism would be an essential part of the Irish experience in the future, were still swallowed up by the bigger ideology of nationalism.

Irish nationalists who fought the War of Independence spouted much disingenuous nonsense about their generation following in the footsteps of the labour ghosts of Larkin and James Connolly, but despite their insistence that they represented all classes and were committed to social justice, the marginalised and those deemed to be born on the wrong side of the tracks were often abused, hidden and denied any voice.

And in relation to the labour movement itself, while the impact the Lockout had on the development of trade union consciousness in Ireland was vital, such a consciousness was not necessarily socialist or revolutionary.

Decades after it, the electorate that was unionised did not vote in large numbers for Labour or left-wing candidates.

What was achieved, however, in the decades after independence, was an occasional acceptance that because economic conditions worsen does not mean that the rights of workers have to be completely frozen. There was a continuing emphasis on wages and legislation to improve workers' lives and living conditions, but trade unions also found themselves swinging between the demands made of them as social partners and the demands made of them as unions that needed to be in touch with the sentiments of their members. With the development of wage agreements and social partnership, some historians and trade unionists wondered was this the ultimate victory for trade unionists or a betrayal of Larkin's legacy.

Padraig Yeates, author of the definitive history of the Lockout, has described one of the key lessons of 1913 as demonstrating "the need to broaden the agenda from workplace issues to the wider social, political and economic situation".

Was this done enough in the last 20 years? Was there enough resistance to the extreme advocates of the free-market economy? Will future historians look back at the Ireland of social partnership and find that there was a proper balance made between economic and social development? And given the pay cuts and dilemmas facing trade unions now, in the midst of recession and austerity, will the centenary of the 1913 Lockout be seen as a time when the final nails were hammered into the coffin of social partnership?

Diarmaid Ferriter is Professor of Modern Irish History at UCD

Irish Independent