Marxist
sociologist of social movements Laurence Cox’s Buddhism and
Ireland expands into nearly four-hundred lively pages what to him first appeared to take but a chapter. In fact, this topic elicited his first dissemination in 2009 in JGB 10. His astute interpretations and groundbreaking research stretch
into a sustained grappling to pin down a phenomenon that presents a case study beyond any insularity. One end of Eurasia connects with the other/ Other, for far longer and with more traffic than arguably any previous scholars or practitioners have surmised.
Professor Cox contrasts the academic focus on who controlled the means of
intellectual production with “grey literature” in Asia (tracts and agitprop as produced by late nineteenth and early twentieth-century Irish bhikkus who deployed
anti-Christian polemic to rouse natives against missionaries). He elaborates how “experience breaks up the smooth flow of discourse” as authors and
activists wander East to West and back again unpredictably.
He
highlights his investigation as “a history of people in relationships, rather
than a history of ideas; it is a history of empire not so much as
ideology but as lived practice, and it is a history of social change as
anti-colonial struggle and as counter-cultural transformation.” (pp. 39-40) He
arrays his findings, drawn from testimony and texts, for a stress akin to what E. P.
Thompson asked about Marx: “the question is not whether we are on Marx’s
side but whether he is on ours.” (p. 14) That is, Cox confronts the academic bias for textual domination. However reliant upon the written record for his quest, he prefers whenever possible to interpret decisions as carried out or mooted by those Irish who, having found out about Buddhism, acted on it.
Similarly, Cox asks “whether particular choices and actions mark a
step forward in relation to people’s previous situation and in the
direction of greater personal clarity, interpersonal solidarity and
capacity for transformation” regarding globalizing systems and
ideologies, from the two tips of Eurasia -- and everywhere beyond and
between as the dharma spread, up to nine centuries delayed in transmission.
(pp. 14-15) He distinguishes ancient and medieval glimmers of Buddhist content as
consumed by Westerners from more recent contributors (as Orientalists, as missionaries, but also a few introduced here as converts turned propagandists). Since the
middle of the last century, he locates a shift back to Westerners consuming Buddhism. He
cautions against overly reliant textual emphases for interpretation;
trinkets, retreats, or travel may as they do nowadays convey for many
far more product labeled “Buddhist” rather than books. If agency rather than doctrine, as
with many New Religious Movements tends to dominate over dogma or
“official” devotees regarding the prevalence of Western Buddhists who primarily identify through meditation, this too needs reiteration, for the fluid nature of
identification with Buddhism leads many to a revolving door, challenging census data. In the
Irish case, where some interviewed here still fear “outing,” the
pressure of conformity and the impositions or allegiances of a dominant
culture must be included, and the ability of Buddhist identification and
practice to elude facile equivalences. Cox never assumes a devotee of a certain sangha can be summed up by the precepts of that sangha, as if affiliation
sums up one's outlook.
Cox cautions that two
millennia of Buddhism accumulates vast knowledge and claims, but that these
“make it harder for researchers to hear the ‘needs’ which bring people
to Buddhism, the problems they are grappling with in their own lives or
the hegemonies they are attempting to dismantle.” Rather, organizations
step in to “impose their own interpretation and articulation of these
needs.” This occludes what people on the everyday level mean by
Buddhism, and “we cannot take accounts formulated within this language
at face value-- contra both the guardians of Buddhist orthodoxy and the
left-feminist critique of ‘religion’ per se.” (p. 33) Cox explains how Westerners often drift into Buddhism as converts or fellow
travelers and insert or fixate their own naive or filtered predilections.
These may often
not be what sanctioned ministers desire. Teachers, schooled and approved as
the establishment no matter their often promoted counter-cultural claims, may crack
down on the earlier experimenters. This imported hierarchy may arrive years or
decades later as a witting or unwitting force to push heterodox practice
towards uniformity, and this in turn clouds subsequent understanding of how ordinary people as well as those in charge of imposing order or recording dogma reacted to Buddhism. Cox suggests instead examining practice “as a
pointer to needs,” as a corrective to too much text. While this proves difficult given the paucity of material for many Irish encounters, the reminder that Buddhism appeals or repels many based on their own pressing conditions grounds this invigorating approach while it justifies the humanist and Marxist theoretical framework Cox applies.
Curious readers, to take one persistently purported Irish Buddhist encounter, that of pre-Roman influence on Celtic monasticism from
(quasi-)Buddhism, will find that here, the material basis is thin and the testimony muddled. Cox documents well in his survey how some
scraps of “what-ifs” enticed those in the distant and recent past. The gap in transmission is itself a sobering
corrective; as much as nine centuries between the East and the farthest
island of the West attenuated even a glimmer of the dharma. However, as
Cox finds, the core of the "misrecognised biography" within Barlaam and Josaphat medieval legend does prove (at least for once)
semi-cohesion of that popular, transmitted ur-tale. Contrasting what W. B. Yeats invoked in “Under Ben Bulben” as “Swear by what the sages spoke/Round
the Mareotic Lake” near Alexandria, the Therapeutae rumored (wrongly) by
Eusebius as the original monks, Cox finds attempts at claiming Buddhist forebears for Christian monasticism (or Celtic nature poetry by implicit concatenation) inconclusive.
He gently shelves fervent attempts at “origin relations” alongside
Graves’ The White Goddess as “poetic myths." (p. 63)
The second chapter collects many examples of how the West consumed Buddhist accounts. Testimony from clerics, soldiers, diplomats, pilgrims, and tale-spinners as expressed by learned texts, romances, and chapbooks dominated. The Irish learned more than scholars have claimed. Networks (as Cox examines the Anglican holdings at Trinity College, Dublin and the Catholic equivalents at his home campus, now the National University of Ireland, Maynooth) joined the small farmer or laborer, who might have heard a newspaper account of the East recited by a local priest or merchant, in turn informed reliably or otherwise by Jesuits, Dissenters, traders, or journalists, via communication from China or India. French-language reports enriched Enlightenment discourse in Ireland which began to attempt to make more than mythical sense out of the East. Yet, constrained by conformity to Irish denominational and ethnic allegiances, "being Buddhist" did not appear for pre-modern readers back home or for curious travelers in those Asian realms as a viable or comprehensible personal option.
The "circuits of distribution" for Buddhist material into Ireland as mapped by Cox overlap. A Protestant, "English," and imperial system intersects with the Catholic, "Irish" and diasporic one. By the eighteenth century, a middle-class or plebeian readership itself blends with an orally dispersed set of listeners in cities and towns. Steadily if slowly, the sphere of Buddhist transmission widened. A "more restricted distribution of medieval and classical knowledge before that" period gave way to hedge-schools for Catholics under Penal Law, mass education under Protestant reformers, and then empire-building in which the Irish themselves, once colonized, took part via the military and trading.
All the same, active interest in Buddhism had to wait for opportunity. This came when "the rising power of Catholic nationalism created a new kind of crisis for old affiliations." (p. 97) The nineteenth-century agitations for Home Rule, loyalty to, or freedom from the British Crown eventually forced what exposure alone to texts or hearsay about Buddhism could not invite or suggest. Conversions began only when Buddhism "became an attractive 'Other' for some Irish people," and a choice became feasible, "possible and meaningful." (p. 96) Cox estimates that this choice to legally register as a Buddhist did not occur until a decriminalization of "blasphemy" which occurred after the (partial) independence of the Irish nation, and nearly none took advantage of it, .
at
least as far as the historical records, always only part of the Irish Buddhist chronicle,
document.
Part two of this study offers a theoretically sophisticated analysis of Ireland as a case study for European reception to, and propagation by a few of, Buddhism. Contrasted with the (unmentioned by Cox) 1994 attempt by Stephen Batchelor in The Awakening of the West, Cox's work remains on firmer terrain as he constructs his case with care. He cites often another popularization of Buddhism's globalization, Lawrence Sutin's All is Change (2006), but he applies J. Jeffrey Franklin's "cultural counter-invasion" thesis from The Lion and the Lotus (2008) best to posit Buddhist hermeneutic challenges to Christian mindsets, as Cox unveils this "minor moral panic." Avoiding when possible any sole reliance on textual evidence for earlier centuries, Cox places knowledge of Buddhism within wider networks. These expand exponentially as Asian anti-imperialism plays off of concurrent Irish colonial tensions. By the end of the nineteenth century, the choice to convert or sympathize loomed.
As formal sanctions declined even while "informal social costs" accrued, a few Irish people contemplated taking refuge in, or encouraging the promotion of, Buddhism. Cox emphasizes the impacts of this decision. Most of those so inclined early on were from the Anglo-Irish establishment, and if they served overseas in Asian locales, their careers would have to shift, languages had to be mastered, and new networks had to be found to replace those freethinkers cut off from ecclesiastical or imperial enterprises. Outmarriage usually met with disinheritance, and within what Cox labels Dissident Orientalism, the decision to separate from a matrix where "religion, ethnicity, career and social identity were intimately connected had enormous implications for one's whole life." (p. 110)
His third chapter pursues Irish participation in the British Empire and missionary efforts. The Irish "used religion to critique empire and their own culture," and as with other colonies caught up in the running of the royal realms, ambivalence about what was carried out overseas in relation to what was perpetuated back home continued among a few, driven to chastise what most did without complaint. Soldiers and missionaries brought into Ireland many stories and images from Buddhist culture, and among intellectual Catholics at the turn of the last century, these messages met with interest and dread. Cox charts a "minor moral panic" by papal pundits recoiling from Buddhism's nihilistic aura, even as plain Catholics were kept from knowledge of its energies, a process Cox finds akin to Gramsci's "firewalling" by an Italian clerisy of ideas labeled as too volatile for parishioners to handle.
Meanwhile, the Catholics charged with converting the Asian pagans quailed. Overestimating Buddhists to be forty percent of the world's faithful, they blundered into mission territory severely unprepared. The Columban Fathers entered China not knowing its language. They failed to sway many to the Church, and Cox compiles their incomprehension of the religion they met as their foe. Buddhism tended by the intelligentsia to be handled with care for its prestige and lineage, but consigned by Christian evangelists to the bin of racial stereotypes and character flaws of its adepts.
However, Irish awareness in a less stigmatized form of Buddhism filtered down, if obliquely, into popular culture. Sir Edwin Arnold's successful poem on the Buddha, The Light of Asia (1879), found itself publicized in the Dublin press in bowdlerized or blinkered fashion as a story of a prince's reformation. Cox locates in its coverage no mention of the Buddha. Conversely, most Irish instances then to Arnold's title "are to racehorses or greyhounds, indirectly attesting to its popularity." (p. 169)
Another encounter with the East, the best-known instance for Western readers, has been analyzed far more widely over the past century and more. Theosophy earns a chapter devoted to three concerns. First, it beckoned some Anglo-Irish away from the "service class" (in Marxian terms), to pursue esoteric concerns. Next, it forced followers to choose between Blavatsky and Olcott's Eastern variety or the Western occult tradition in what became the Order of the Golden Dawn. The careers of respectively Æ (George Russell) and Yeats epitomize this bifurcation among this Irish class. Finally, as Indian contact deepened Western awareness of key distinctions between Hindu and Buddhist concepts as actually practiced rather than as textual claims, theosophical divisions widened.
Cox situates his subjects, marginalized yet inextricably tied to identity, within their era, 1850-1960: "For most Irish people, politics was spoken of as religion, as it was in India or Ceylon." (p. 195) His fifth chapter features the stories of many less heralded than Yeats or Blavatsky, "those who resisted sectarian closure at its height" as "solidarity activists" and agents outside Irish or British confines.
Cox and his colleagues Brian Bocking and Alicia Turner continue to investigate an enigmatic working-class hobo-turned-bhikkhu, born in Booterstown, Dublin to an Irish Catholic family. He covered his perhaps subversive tracks as he wandered across America and took the name, after he wound up in Rangoon to go sober and get religion, of U Dhammaloka. Well into middle-age when in 1900 he burst into notoriety as a preacher against Christian missionaries, his career, until it just as suddenly vanishes after 1914, enlivens a memorable case study. He promoted by his Buddhist Tract Society what Cox superimposes as importing Daniel O'Connell's Irish model of cultural nationalism, defending the popular religion (this time, Burma) against the colonial elite (again, Protestant Britain).
While more from Dhammaloka himself would have jolted what remains a jaunty chapter, a snippet from a sample polemic, The Teachings of Jesus Not Adapted for Modern Civilization (1910), conveys his flair. Denouncing "the necessity of a vast host of able-bodied, well-fed Sky-Pilots" as "managers of matters between men and the big Papa in the Clouds," the BTS "holds that if a man's soul is to [be] saved by man's work, the man that has the soul has got to do the work." (p. 251) As Cox's "classic Irish Buddhist" by his defiance of the norm and his sustained reinvention in a different guise and a different realm, to this reviewer, Dhammaloka furthermore appears to fit Gramsci's model of an "organic intellectual": this formation of such a wry, self-confident figure suggests further application.
These Irish Buddhists at home and abroad comprise a memorable faction. Their numbers may have been larger than what can be surmised up to a century later, given that reliance on the "means of intellectual production" limits research to those who have published, as had Dhammaloka and his ilk. Many of those who can be verified emerge, moreover, from the educated elite. Even a shortlist of those who can be verified finds Cox resorting to the modifier "eccentric" more than once. Their common roles found them on the fringes, relegated there for counter-cultural (in the 1890s sense as well as the more recent usage) claims that featured republicanism, the avant-garde, mandarin poses, a spurious if bestselling claimant (Lobsang Tuesday Rampa for a while had fled to Ireland to evade British demands for his purportedly Tibetan passport) of transmigration, and, in Michael (born Laura) Dillon's case, the first female-to-male transsexual through plastic surgery. A doctor, he shifted from Theosophy as he traveled East. Remaking himself into Lobzang Jivaka, his life commemorates total devotion to breaking barriers first of gender, and then, as Cox narrates movingly, those of class and race as he sought to become a humble Gelugpa novice in Ladakh, before his untimely death in 1962.
Bedeviling identification now as then, the pressure for Irish Buddhists to "pass" as Catholics leaves Cox's study necessarily reticent regarding who can be singled out. Allegiances being fluid, those officially Buddhist tally as its smallest cohort, most likely. "Hinduism, paganism and ritual magic" appealed to mavericks who could creolize these practices more accessibly, given purported Christian or Celtic affinities as imagined or invented by Irish adepts. Cox avers that the "sub-Theosophical version" of Buddhism edged too close to Victorian beliefs for its adoption by seekers, while its "orthodox Asian versions" remained too risky for public identification until a few Buddhists stepped forward in 1971. Historically, "most survived by their pen and died poor" even among the smattering, usually those who had left an intolerant Ireland, who admitted their devotion to the dharma. (p. 281)
Such intolerance, as Catholic hegemony over the southern part of the island crumbled between the 1960s and the 1990s, ebbed. The patrician Protestant service class, after the British Empire faded, retreated or emigrated. Educational opportunities and economic expansion drew working-class Catholics into the (sub-)urbanized, and somewhat secularized (if far less than the rest of Western Europe until very recently) middle class. While midcentury Victorians knew more about Buddhism, gleaned from imperial information, than almost any Irish people did between the 1920s and 1950s, the counter-cultural turn beckoned a handful towards a hesitant, perhaps furtive, move towards practice. Wearied by sectarian verities and stagnant piety, Dissident Orientalists from among disaffected Catholics revived within Irish culture, as communities formed in remote retreats as well as Dublin and Belfast. Blow-ins from Britain and Western Europe conveyed "imported Buddhism" during the 1970s-1980s. Then Irish inquirers, often self-taught solitaries who had tended to lay low, invited missionaries with their "export" version of Buddhism in the 1990s. By the millennium, "baggage Buddhism" increased as Asian immigrants contributed to Ireland's globalizing economy.
Cox parallels these changing Catholic reactions to Buddhism with the "Brezhnev era." That is, "following a brief period of openness and self-criticism, an institution turning back to internal certainties and organisational routine, relying on increasingly greying cadres to sustain itself." (p. 316) Syncretism, meditation mixing Christian and Buddhist approaches, and ecumenical dialogue after Vatican II capitulated as Rome turned away from liberation theology and Eastern-inspired practices, and as conservative Irish clerics denounced "cults," yoga, and the New Age in the 1980s.
The American-Irish Dublin student-turned-Zen monastic in Japan Maura O'Halloran attests in her journals to the power of activism, as socialist, feminist, and anti-capitalist campaigns across the world engaged her while fueling her practice in the late 1970s. Cox aligns such awareness with contexts which, while they kept Irish Buddhists marginalized due to sectarian pressures, allowed networks along alternative politics to flourish, even if their precarious nature meant they often had to start from scratch and may not have lasted for long. Still, they managed better than those in the North during the Troubles. Buddhists in the British-occupied province often have emigrated (before as after the partition of the Irish Free State in 1921), yet the identification of "peace and tolerance" with Buddhism, conversely, has appealed to a few daring to defy deeply divided lines. This topic begged for far more space, but the reserve of many Irish, from the North or South, persisting among certain interviewees demonstrates the difficulty that Buddhists there have had, via the diffidence they show.
The final chapter elaborates Jan Nattier's "baggage, import, and export Buddhism" models. Cox distinguishes the Irish from the American differences. Migrants comprise so tiny and so recent a cohort that nearly no Asians in Ireland have sufficient numbers to build their own Buddhist institutions. Western European teachers exported Buddhism into Ireland from the late 1980s on. Importing Buddhism relied on lay rather than monastic trainers, while "Mind-Body-Spirit" circuits construct "informal Buddhisms in private contexts." (p. 328) Moreover, the domestic or occluded nature of Irish Buddhism by many still in the "closet" or who mix its precepts with other spiritualities evades clearer academic scrutiny of its hybrid, creole, and characteristically dissident manifestations.
Cox estimates a third of such practitioners lack affiliation, and the global dependence of the Irish on British and international "imported knowledge" and contacts means that groups may gather at a home to listen to tapes or meditate rather than, say, flock to Rigpa's Dzogchen Beara on Cork's coast, Samye Dzong or the Zen/Insight group in suburban Dublin, or Black Mountain Zen Centre in Belfast. Less-educated and more female contingents, depending on commercially distributed product for their Buddhist connections, increase among importers in Ireland, Cox confides "anecdotally" if relevantly. Current varieties of Irish exporters, by contrast, gravitate towards hierarchy, rely on tighter doctrine and ritual, appeal to those making a "spiritual career" out of the quest, and may suit male ambitions.
Most seekers aiming at a career train abroad. Most teachers serving the Irish move there from abroad. Immigrant communities also recruit overseas their leaders. Cox analyzes O'Halloran's choice to leave 1970s Dublin for Japan as representative. Rejecting home, family, and a job, the option to travel to an enduring Buddhist enclave in its traditional heartland or at least already solvent Western settlements carried more weight than trying to build a sangha or a monastic manifestation within Irish society. Very recently, while the strain of pursuing the dharma openly in Ireland may be easing, the daily difficulties of professionally sustaining a Buddhist enterprise limit opportunities all over the island.
The copy for this book claims that since the 1960s, "Buddhism has exploded to become Ireland's third-largest religion." This boom echoes as a whisper. The progression from under a hundred self-identified Buddhists in the Republic's 1991 census to nearly ten thousand (estimating too the North) in 2011 reveals a dramatic, if still infinitesimal leap forward, to 0.19 percent of those reporting a recognized denomination. Converts make up less than half, with fewer than forty percent of these Irish nationals; nearly half of the Buddhist E. U. immigrants hail from Britain, trailed by Germany and France. Cox reckons these total about a third of Irish Buddhists, however loosely defined by their own affiliations. Reacting against their nation's past, more persist in autonomy and/or "reflexivity in all fields of life" as part of their counter-culture. For instance, nobody polled among local Irish adepts appears to want to establish a Buddhist school. In a country where pedagogy may likely fall under Catholic or Protestant supervision or intervention, this suggests a fresh start for its nascent Buddhists.
Over ten thousand Chinese immigrants dominate the numbers of ethnic Buddhists. But no temples or organizations exist; the sangha remains within the home or family. Falun Dafa/Falun Gong, contested as to its Buddhist claim, emerges as the most visible Chinese denomination in Ireland, where many students and a turnover population may weaken a more elevated base for Buddhism in public view. Sōka Gakkai International, typically, blurs or breaks down ethnic and convert distinctions, boosting its modest Irish beginnings one-on-one in 1978 by way of a growing Japanese presence during the 1990s. A Dublin Thai center opened in 2011; Cox suggests the recession may spur greater cooperation between immigrants and converts, drawn together by dependence and common ground.
Commonalities with Catholic, Christian, or Celtic and pagan outlooks creolize Buddhist adaptation. Samye Dzong in the 1990s tried to link Tibetan doctrine with Celtic lore, and Sanskrit with Irish-language parallels (however sketchy given evidence). A few Celtic Buddhists invented a lineage, emanating through the aegis of an English-born, American-Canadian émigré butler of Chögyam Trungpa back to Tibetan origins, blending ecological and pagan elements into a hybrid vocation.
In turn, engaged Buddhists agitate alongside Catholic Workers against U.S. military planes at Shannon, raise funds for Tibet, build cross-community outreach in Belfast, or carry out prison visits. Buddhists, as ever enmeshed in their set and setting, have sidled away from Maura O'Halloran's affirmation of socialism as the proper response to injustice and inequality. Reflecting "mindfulness" mantras marketed by seminars to corporations, many Buddhists seem readier to turn inward to transform themselves first, rather than to reduce suffering. "Service-class romanticism," Cox chides, pays less attention to "changing social relationships" while perpetuating the endemic Irish entanglements thwarting equality, given monolithic "ethnic and religious community structures." (p. 369) The "neoliberal boom" harnessing all to relentless workplace productivity finds Irish of all sects or none confronting long privation after pursuit of quick profit, so Buddhism may appeal to restless seekers. Whether this brand of Buddhism becomes a narcotic or a shock to the system remains open, as this far Western island ponders how to integrate, share, peddle, or disguise lore from the Far East.
New Age adherents propel many contemporary innovations branded Buddhist, stirring meditation and mindfulness mantras into an eclectic mission of "self-development" aligned with holistic medicine and psychotherapy. Cox avers that today's status of Buddhism as "tolerated and timid challenger" may not last as Irish Catholicism weakens and the Celtic Tiger slinks. He asserts that Buddhists will fare better not to defend religion as placid allies from "spirituality." Given the mordant Irish experience with organized power controlled by clergy, Buddhists should rally "those who seek an end to suffering in the world." (p. 377) Rather than compromise, they must contend and confront.
If change will occur, Buddhists need to stand among those refusing to step aside when churches or states shove back. Rejecting both the "moral monopoly" assumed by clergy and the "consumption as a way of life" which for many Irish as for most in the rest of the world has become the new creed, Cox pushes Buddhists into the front lines, using their momentum gained by an association with "downshifting" out of the rat race. Like the evanescent presence of many past Irish Buddhists, these activists may flicker and fade from the present or future as well, unless published and recorded, for scholars such as Cox to track down and promote. Small flaws (a welcome index and bibliography, but inconsistent inclusions and indentations; Maura O'Halloran's Asian years ended not in 1992 but 1982 with her sudden death [p. 324]) will not discourage any inquirer opening this to learn so much. Professor and practitioner Laurence Cox's survey of Irish Buddhism shines as the first light projected into a dim space nearly every colleague might have dismissed as all but vacant. Instead, this lively book sparks energies within texts, interviews, tracts, tapes, filled by traces he delineates and connects.
(P.S. Some of my citing from and musing upon Dr. Cox's opening chapter was shared on Speculative Non-Buddhism . See comments #11 and #24 [to #14 {cf. #26}] by Patrick Jennings and #17 by Glenn Wallis in response to his "Non-buddhist blotter, anyone?" I thank them for suggestions; their fuller consideration awaits my further elaboration on this study, which will appear at The Non-Buddhist. My review appeared in pdf (via JGB homepage), edited from the 4300 words above to less than 3900, in the Journal of Global Buddhism 15 (2014):79-86. At about 1100 words, 3-17-14 to Amazon US)
Showing posts with label Irish politics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Irish politics. Show all posts
Monday, March 17, 2014
Laurence Cox's "Buddhism and Ireland": Book Review
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Tim Pat Coogan's "The Famine Plot": Book Review
The subtitle plays into conspiracy theory, a melodramatic touch calculated to attract readers to what's a familiar saga for many who know Irish history. So, how justified is "England's Role in Ireland's Greatest Tragedy" by "Ireland's best-known historian" according to his byline? I read this soon after John Kelly's "The Graves Are Walking" which places the "Great Hunger" of the late 1840s in contexts of Europe, North America, as well as Britain regarding its similarities and differences to other famines. Kelly expands the story to show how emigration, privation, and policy combined to bring a near-worst-case scenario to millions of Irish.
Tim Pat Coogan takes the side of the native against the imperialist. His preface compares the Famine with today's austerity imposed upon the Irish Republic, and notes the personal afflictions endured by his fellow citizens--at least where the Irish again have to depend on charity from abroad. Coogan advances the genocidal definition of what happened in the mid-19th century, and he shows in the first chapter about the conditions of his ancestors how his paternal townlands in Co Kilkenny reveal in the archived "Great Book" the appeals of the tenants to their absentee landlord. Throughout, I was impressed by how Coogan navigates between the big explanation and the local detail garnered from such records and scholarship. He has an eye for the detail, such as a Mayo priest's reticent acknowledgement of "a very interesting woman" given that sexual matters were not discussed.
The second main chapter looks at the background, full of "multilayered demonology" as faction fighting, sectarian rivalry, and the repression after the 1798 rebellion struck fear deeper in the minds of the natives. Poor law relief and the Victorian ameliorative attempts to fix what was wrong with the Irish according to the English show in chapter three the responses habitual and experimented by the British Crown to handle what it feared in Malthusian terms as overpopulation and as mass emigration (to England). Relief was seen as helping the poor to survive and so as to procreate even more peasants.
Coogan turns from the masterminds to the "chief actors in the drama. There were, of course, millions of bit players but their lines were not listened to and echoed only in graveyards." Daniel O'Connell, Sir Robert Peel, Sir Charles Trevelyan, Lord John Russell, Disraeli: well-known names who sought to solve the predicament as the potato crop failed. Tory and Whig debated, the Corn Law ironically passed even as another Coercion Bill was implemented for Ireland. Most MPs did not want to spend money on the ungrateful Irish peasants, the subterfuge of party politics aside.
How much money would be spent depended on grain sent over. Indian corn (hominy grits) was notoriously hard to digest. Crops kept failing, workhouses and public works projects meant to keep the poor fed by having them build roads to nowhere met with predictable despair by the natives. As chapters five with evictions and six with work schemes demonstrate, such conditions exacerbated the deteriorating state of millions in the latter part of the '40s. Peel and Trevelyan among others under Queen Victoria's direction attempted to assist the Irish while keeping down costs, and the corrupt and mismanaged whole as Coogan sums up "was a microcosm" of how the island was governed under the colonial power of the 19th century.
When these schemes ran aground, the workhouses (chapter eight) left an awful legacy in the Irish psyche and its landscape. As Coogan relates, in one of his typical asides bringing in current affairs, even in the past decade the reluctance or refusal of some political entities to commemorate the Famine shows the "{s}ensitivity regarding Anglo-Irish relationships." He pays attention to the plight of the young as well as old housed in appalling conditions, and reminds us of the inhumanity that marked many who survived to emigrate or return to poverty, perhaps shunned by neighbors now as unclean after their release from "the last places of resort" intended "for the destitute only."
The Quakers to their credit helped relieve with food and care, but sectarian rivalries poisoned Protestant efforts derided by Catholics as proselytizing. Chapter Nine documents the battle as Vincentian priests countered with parish missions the attempts of other Christians to establish rival denominations to overturn "Romanism" under the guise of a hidden agenda. This intricate feuding, of course, helped connect Catholicism with nationalism even more deeply, as converts from the rosary to the Bible, so to speak, were ostracized in the small towns and communities where most Irish Catholics survived.
Who paid for Irish poverty? The peasants, via the taxes due to landlords who had to fund by property the relief efforts? Or, the workhouses, where no "outdoor relief" outside their walls was permitted? This contention in chapter ten sets up a Poor Law Extension Act. Landlords understandably if not always fairly (some did help and tried to do what they could) were targeted by the natives as blameworthy for the awful conditions of the past few years. Coogan tips more blame to the Crown.
Divine Providence, some leaders argued, coupled with a disdain for the improvident, papist, and brutal Irish peasantry, meted a just punishment on behalf of Protestant Britain. Laissez-faire policies met another rebellion, attempted in 1848 by the Young Ireland movement, and in this year of change and threat over much of the Western world, it failed. "English benevolence" was at a low point.
By 1848, after hundreds of thousands of deaths, millions sought to escape. The landlords under the Poor Law had been charged with increased rates to care for their destitute tenants. So, landlords, emboldened by the Crown's own advice via the Whigs, encouraged emigration. Unrest grew, desperation deepened. Soon, Liverpool, Canada and the U.S. found their ports overloaded with the starving, the sick, the dying, and the dead. Chapter Eleven dips into the highlights of this dramatic event. It's sketchier than other sections as it's such a large topic, but it provides an overview for those new to this.
As a journalist, Coogan's well placed to judge publicity. Chapter Twelve takes on "The PR of Famine." Akin to the stage Irishmen always willing to be hired to grace a play in the West End, Coogan notes how the Irish contributed to their own stereotyping as yahoos and gorillas in the pages of "Punch." How the Whigs managed to control the spin on the Famine relief and keeping the Irish in their role as designated simians and as grateful servants of the Queen (depending on the article) reminds readers of the ease with which the press has manipulated public opinion on Irish affairs for a long time. Coogan in a rambling but justifiable aside looks at how historical revisionists, wishing to accommodate in the 1990s a Britain in the wake of the peace process not to be offended, also colluded in this enterprise as "a certain colonial cringe."
Finally, too brief an epilogue directs the reader to the aftermath. Land reform and more revolt followed, and emigration accelerated. Psychologically, "learned helplessness" may have worsened the prevalence of not only delayed marriages but mental illness and schizophrenia attributed to rural Ireland with its high rates of bachelors and spinsters. (I note that this topic is contested in academia and needs more context than the penultimate paragraph in the advance copy reviewed.) This study, while favoring a top-down approach as it looks at policy from the London perspective, balances it when the record exists by listening to the bit players. It's a helpful short overview of a complicated and still debated theme.
Appendices show some documents from the Crown. The photos in the final version to come were not present, although an index would be advisable. Endnotes show the sources drawn upon but no separate works cited. It remains, as often with Coogan's works, a slightly idiosyncratic approach as he likes to step into the proceedings and as this moves them now and then forward 170 or so years, this can be quirky. However, this also shows the relevance of the strands and threads he pursues, if more loosely than a conventional historical survey. All in all, to nearly cite a cliche, those not killed off by the potato blight and its impacts turned out stronger as a nation, in Coogan's conclusion. (Amazon US 8-28-12 and The Pensive Quill 3-8-13.)
Tim Pat Coogan takes the side of the native against the imperialist. His preface compares the Famine with today's austerity imposed upon the Irish Republic, and notes the personal afflictions endured by his fellow citizens--at least where the Irish again have to depend on charity from abroad. Coogan advances the genocidal definition of what happened in the mid-19th century, and he shows in the first chapter about the conditions of his ancestors how his paternal townlands in Co Kilkenny reveal in the archived "Great Book" the appeals of the tenants to their absentee landlord. Throughout, I was impressed by how Coogan navigates between the big explanation and the local detail garnered from such records and scholarship. He has an eye for the detail, such as a Mayo priest's reticent acknowledgement of "a very interesting woman" given that sexual matters were not discussed.
The second main chapter looks at the background, full of "multilayered demonology" as faction fighting, sectarian rivalry, and the repression after the 1798 rebellion struck fear deeper in the minds of the natives. Poor law relief and the Victorian ameliorative attempts to fix what was wrong with the Irish according to the English show in chapter three the responses habitual and experimented by the British Crown to handle what it feared in Malthusian terms as overpopulation and as mass emigration (to England). Relief was seen as helping the poor to survive and so as to procreate even more peasants.
Coogan turns from the masterminds to the "chief actors in the drama. There were, of course, millions of bit players but their lines were not listened to and echoed only in graveyards." Daniel O'Connell, Sir Robert Peel, Sir Charles Trevelyan, Lord John Russell, Disraeli: well-known names who sought to solve the predicament as the potato crop failed. Tory and Whig debated, the Corn Law ironically passed even as another Coercion Bill was implemented for Ireland. Most MPs did not want to spend money on the ungrateful Irish peasants, the subterfuge of party politics aside.
How much money would be spent depended on grain sent over. Indian corn (hominy grits) was notoriously hard to digest. Crops kept failing, workhouses and public works projects meant to keep the poor fed by having them build roads to nowhere met with predictable despair by the natives. As chapters five with evictions and six with work schemes demonstrate, such conditions exacerbated the deteriorating state of millions in the latter part of the '40s. Peel and Trevelyan among others under Queen Victoria's direction attempted to assist the Irish while keeping down costs, and the corrupt and mismanaged whole as Coogan sums up "was a microcosm" of how the island was governed under the colonial power of the 19th century.
When these schemes ran aground, the workhouses (chapter eight) left an awful legacy in the Irish psyche and its landscape. As Coogan relates, in one of his typical asides bringing in current affairs, even in the past decade the reluctance or refusal of some political entities to commemorate the Famine shows the "{s}ensitivity regarding Anglo-Irish relationships." He pays attention to the plight of the young as well as old housed in appalling conditions, and reminds us of the inhumanity that marked many who survived to emigrate or return to poverty, perhaps shunned by neighbors now as unclean after their release from "the last places of resort" intended "for the destitute only."
The Quakers to their credit helped relieve with food and care, but sectarian rivalries poisoned Protestant efforts derided by Catholics as proselytizing. Chapter Nine documents the battle as Vincentian priests countered with parish missions the attempts of other Christians to establish rival denominations to overturn "Romanism" under the guise of a hidden agenda. This intricate feuding, of course, helped connect Catholicism with nationalism even more deeply, as converts from the rosary to the Bible, so to speak, were ostracized in the small towns and communities where most Irish Catholics survived.
Who paid for Irish poverty? The peasants, via the taxes due to landlords who had to fund by property the relief efforts? Or, the workhouses, where no "outdoor relief" outside their walls was permitted? This contention in chapter ten sets up a Poor Law Extension Act. Landlords understandably if not always fairly (some did help and tried to do what they could) were targeted by the natives as blameworthy for the awful conditions of the past few years. Coogan tips more blame to the Crown.
Divine Providence, some leaders argued, coupled with a disdain for the improvident, papist, and brutal Irish peasantry, meted a just punishment on behalf of Protestant Britain. Laissez-faire policies met another rebellion, attempted in 1848 by the Young Ireland movement, and in this year of change and threat over much of the Western world, it failed. "English benevolence" was at a low point.
By 1848, after hundreds of thousands of deaths, millions sought to escape. The landlords under the Poor Law had been charged with increased rates to care for their destitute tenants. So, landlords, emboldened by the Crown's own advice via the Whigs, encouraged emigration. Unrest grew, desperation deepened. Soon, Liverpool, Canada and the U.S. found their ports overloaded with the starving, the sick, the dying, and the dead. Chapter Eleven dips into the highlights of this dramatic event. It's sketchier than other sections as it's such a large topic, but it provides an overview for those new to this.
As a journalist, Coogan's well placed to judge publicity. Chapter Twelve takes on "The PR of Famine." Akin to the stage Irishmen always willing to be hired to grace a play in the West End, Coogan notes how the Irish contributed to their own stereotyping as yahoos and gorillas in the pages of "Punch." How the Whigs managed to control the spin on the Famine relief and keeping the Irish in their role as designated simians and as grateful servants of the Queen (depending on the article) reminds readers of the ease with which the press has manipulated public opinion on Irish affairs for a long time. Coogan in a rambling but justifiable aside looks at how historical revisionists, wishing to accommodate in the 1990s a Britain in the wake of the peace process not to be offended, also colluded in this enterprise as "a certain colonial cringe."
Finally, too brief an epilogue directs the reader to the aftermath. Land reform and more revolt followed, and emigration accelerated. Psychologically, "learned helplessness" may have worsened the prevalence of not only delayed marriages but mental illness and schizophrenia attributed to rural Ireland with its high rates of bachelors and spinsters. (I note that this topic is contested in academia and needs more context than the penultimate paragraph in the advance copy reviewed.) This study, while favoring a top-down approach as it looks at policy from the London perspective, balances it when the record exists by listening to the bit players. It's a helpful short overview of a complicated and still debated theme.
Appendices show some documents from the Crown. The photos in the final version to come were not present, although an index would be advisable. Endnotes show the sources drawn upon but no separate works cited. It remains, as often with Coogan's works, a slightly idiosyncratic approach as he likes to step into the proceedings and as this moves them now and then forward 170 or so years, this can be quirky. However, this also shows the relevance of the strands and threads he pursues, if more loosely than a conventional historical survey. All in all, to nearly cite a cliche, those not killed off by the potato blight and its impacts turned out stronger as a nation, in Coogan's conclusion. (Amazon US 8-28-12 and The Pensive Quill 3-8-13.)
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Neil Hegarty's "The Story of Ireland": Book Review
"Incorrigably plural" in its diverse history, Ireland has never been as isolated as its geographical position may indicate. Dr. Neil Hegarty links the island--from its prehistoric pioneers to its European financial bailout--to the wider world. International connections, from its first settlers to its increasingly multicultural population today, characterize its gene pool, its waves of invaders and immigrants, and its complex mix of political, religious, and social ingredients. These may simmer, then boil, then cool down again and again over long centuries full of contention and compromise. This energy, distilled into this well-informed study, pulses through every event listed in 330 smoothly paced pages (along with a lively introduction by foreign correspondent Fergal Keane, a timeline, footnotes, reading list, and detailed index).
Contrary to nationalist myth, the Romans traded with and tentatively explored a bit of the island they named Hibernia, "land of winter" from a mistranslation of the Greek "Ierne" for the eponymous Celtic mother goddess "Ériu". Ireland never was totally hidden from classical explorers who braved the Atlantic. "The sea remained a communications highway: indeed in a country cut with forest, highland and bog, it was sometimes easier to travel abroad than within the island itself."
This oceanic network drew a few of its residents into the Christian sphere before Patrick arrived, and Dr. Hegarty reminds us how far Irish influences spread throughout Europe. One determined "dissenter whenever necessary", irascible monk Columbanus took learning into the Alps, while Hiberno-Norse civilization, in Dr. Hegarty's emphasis, arguably strengthened by urbanization and commerce what it had first weakened, when many monastic storehouses of learning perished along with native caretakers and refugees during Viking raids. Brian Boru, conniving High King, comes across here as less heroic and more cunning in his ruthless consolidation of power, as not for the first time the Celtic Irish and their Norse rulers fought together as well as against each other amidst a host of mercenaries-- depending on who was paying whom to enlist not on behalf of a nation but a warlord.
Such allegiances tangled when the Anglo-Normans took advantage of taking over the tribal island to the west, invited by an adulterous local chieftain needing armed backup. Dermot MacMurrough, typecast as the traitor in many a legendary version of the Irish past, here does not come across as sympathetic, but his headstrong character is placed within a territorial feud familiar to viewers of a mob drama today: fractious Ireland with its petty kingdoms produces such as Dermot, with a vicious "style, rooted in a political climate that was positively Sicilian in its intensity and nastiness."
The Normans entered Ireland in 1169. These occupiers pushed aside the Hiberno-Norse and their ports fell, as the "Pale" of English control expanded inland from the island's east and southern coasts. Then "Old English" settlers succumbed to intermarriage and assimilation, so the Crown reasoned they must send more loyal invaders to anglicize the people lest the land "develop into a safe haven" for "rivals and enemies" using Ireland as a back door to sneak into England, so as to undermine or overthrow London's power. Over and over, more invaders were sent as the natives fought back, infiltrated the earlier colonists, and persisted in their anti-English opposition. Dr. Hegarty tells this intricate segment with vivid excerpts from chronicles and laws, and as throughout this book, he incorporates poems, testimony, and historical footnotes now and then taken from solid scholarship and up-to-date research.
Oliver Cromwell, another "polarizing figure" whom the native Irish learned to fear, gains thoughtful consideration. His atrocities are not excused, but his position as a Puritan bent on wiping out the Royalists in Ireland during the English Civil War places him as likely an inevitable military leader sent over to wipe out an insurgency, a general convinced of his anti-guerrilla campaign's necessity. His "ferocious ideological clarity and moral zeal" illustrate one of many case studies, over eight centuries of anti-British insurrection and cultural resistance. Catholic natives press back and are pressed back; both sides refusing to give quarter during frequent rebellions, often with Irish employed on each side.
Gradually, the indigenous language and the clan dominance weakened until by 1700, four-fifths of the land was owned by the English. Penal codes crushed Catholic freedom in a climate of "shrill paranoia and beady-eyed realism". A century before, Scots were planted in fertile but headstrong Ulster as Catholic landlords were driven off, or enticed to convert to Protestantism to keep their diminished holdings. Presbyterians, also oppressed by the Church of England, might listen with sympathy to the 1798 rebels seeking, in the aftermath of the American and French Revolutions, their own victory.
But, after another defeat, the Famine would devastate the native population. This sparked a "devotional revolution" by the Church designed to rally survivors. When Fenians sought to continue the tradition of rebellion, by the late nineteenth century, the hopes of political union with Britain had long been proven foolish. Fewer Protestants would entertain the notion of better times for an Ireland under Catholic power. As a garrison state, it had supplied--from the better-off and the poor--over forty percent of troops serving under the Crown abroad. Imperial ties again would stir fratricidal strife back home.
Politicians found themselves unable to convince Britain of Home Rule as a dominion solution for a measure of Irish self-determination. Isaac Butt, a Protestant barrister, "was intellectual, respectful, careful, uncharismatic, dour and unexciting--in short, lacking in many of the qualities that appealed in Irish political circles." As that phrasing shows, Dr. Hegarty demonstrates a command of nuance. I wondered if he'd miss an observation or qualification, but he never did. He writes for a wide audience, yet by academic training he keeps his detached, thoughtful perspective when addressing contested issues. For instance, he adds to the usual summation of Belfast's sectarian fears of a takeover by Home Rule (let alone Fenians) the progress in scientific endeavor and economic productivity achieved by Ulster's main city by the reign of Queen Victoria, as expressed through a typical Protestant refusal to countenance any "parliament in Dublin in thrall to a host of clerics."
The Boer War earns in-depth treatment to show the inconsistencies of such reformists as Michael Davitt. Despite all his sympathy for Australian aborigines and the Maori, Davitt remained silent when considering the plight of the native Africans as he and many Irish nationalists propagandized and supported the Boers against the Crown. Of course, many more Irish signed up to fight the Boers. Even if an "international consciousness" by modern times defined Irishness as Catholic and anti-British, many families relied on the payments sent home by soldiers to those who endured in poor, limited, and overpopulated conditions. Out of such discrimination and division, the last century's record of Irish fighting Irish begins its long litany of casualties and conflicted loyalties.
Nationalist Irish politics tore itself apart when allied to rebellion. However, after the doomed Rising of 1916, this glorified alliance was judged by enough bitter and beaten-down citizens as a desperate if timely necessity. By then, "Sinn Féin" republicans had convinced enough sympathizers that the Crown would never grant independence peacefully to what the imperial occupiers and a pro-British minority feared as an credulous, resentful, and nearby island that opened a "back door" to "Rome rule."
While these rebels claimed in rhetoric their socialist ideals and non-sectarian policies for all Irish, in practice, the majority of the divided island that resulted turned in on itself by censorship, repression, and moral panics designed to make it more Gaelic and more Catholic, as liberals fought to be heard in an increasingly conservative Free State. Still, facile portrayals of independent Ireland as cut off from European and certainly American culture are denied.
Dr. Hegarty reminds readers how dependent on wider currents of trade, ideas, and influences the Republic of Ireland has been. He examines the economy within the subsidized counties remaining, after yet another protracted conflict, under the Crown. At least, this Derry-born observer adds, in Ulster the "prevailing political uncertainty and civic abnormality kept house prices low and living conditions high" during the Troubles of the past decades.
Finally, the boom and bust of the past twenty years earns Dr. Hegarty's hope that a "sturdier civic culture" may be created to replace the "short-term, patronage and clientist politics" that led to the disfigurement of much of the Irish countryside with unplanned development, and a bubble where Dublin's real estate inflated into the world's most expensive. In a history illustrating the importance of global ties for the Irish, its links to a European economy facing unprecedented challenges by its own unity serve as a cautionary tale, to be careful what a vulnerable, secularizing, and newly affluent nation wishes for. As he concludes,"old pieties, myths and habits of deference are dissolving." What replaces these certainties, he insists, will be decided upon by the diverse people of Ireland themselves.
(Featured at New York Journal of Books 3-13-12)
Such allegiances tangled when the Anglo-Normans took advantage of taking over the tribal island to the west, invited by an adulterous local chieftain needing armed backup. Dermot MacMurrough, typecast as the traitor in many a legendary version of the Irish past, here does not come across as sympathetic, but his headstrong character is placed within a territorial feud familiar to viewers of a mob drama today: fractious Ireland with its petty kingdoms produces such as Dermot, with a vicious "style, rooted in a political climate that was positively Sicilian in its intensity and nastiness."
The Normans entered Ireland in 1169. These occupiers pushed aside the Hiberno-Norse and their ports fell, as the "Pale" of English control expanded inland from the island's east and southern coasts. Then "Old English" settlers succumbed to intermarriage and assimilation, so the Crown reasoned they must send more loyal invaders to anglicize the people lest the land "develop into a safe haven" for "rivals and enemies" using Ireland as a back door to sneak into England, so as to undermine or overthrow London's power. Over and over, more invaders were sent as the natives fought back, infiltrated the earlier colonists, and persisted in their anti-English opposition. Dr. Hegarty tells this intricate segment with vivid excerpts from chronicles and laws, and as throughout this book, he incorporates poems, testimony, and historical footnotes now and then taken from solid scholarship and up-to-date research.
Oliver Cromwell, another "polarizing figure" whom the native Irish learned to fear, gains thoughtful consideration. His atrocities are not excused, but his position as a Puritan bent on wiping out the Royalists in Ireland during the English Civil War places him as likely an inevitable military leader sent over to wipe out an insurgency, a general convinced of his anti-guerrilla campaign's necessity. His "ferocious ideological clarity and moral zeal" illustrate one of many case studies, over eight centuries of anti-British insurrection and cultural resistance. Catholic natives press back and are pressed back; both sides refusing to give quarter during frequent rebellions, often with Irish employed on each side.
Gradually, the indigenous language and the clan dominance weakened until by 1700, four-fifths of the land was owned by the English. Penal codes crushed Catholic freedom in a climate of "shrill paranoia and beady-eyed realism". A century before, Scots were planted in fertile but headstrong Ulster as Catholic landlords were driven off, or enticed to convert to Protestantism to keep their diminished holdings. Presbyterians, also oppressed by the Church of England, might listen with sympathy to the 1798 rebels seeking, in the aftermath of the American and French Revolutions, their own victory.
But, after another defeat, the Famine would devastate the native population. This sparked a "devotional revolution" by the Church designed to rally survivors. When Fenians sought to continue the tradition of rebellion, by the late nineteenth century, the hopes of political union with Britain had long been proven foolish. Fewer Protestants would entertain the notion of better times for an Ireland under Catholic power. As a garrison state, it had supplied--from the better-off and the poor--over forty percent of troops serving under the Crown abroad. Imperial ties again would stir fratricidal strife back home.
Politicians found themselves unable to convince Britain of Home Rule as a dominion solution for a measure of Irish self-determination. Isaac Butt, a Protestant barrister, "was intellectual, respectful, careful, uncharismatic, dour and unexciting--in short, lacking in many of the qualities that appealed in Irish political circles." As that phrasing shows, Dr. Hegarty demonstrates a command of nuance. I wondered if he'd miss an observation or qualification, but he never did. He writes for a wide audience, yet by academic training he keeps his detached, thoughtful perspective when addressing contested issues. For instance, he adds to the usual summation of Belfast's sectarian fears of a takeover by Home Rule (let alone Fenians) the progress in scientific endeavor and economic productivity achieved by Ulster's main city by the reign of Queen Victoria, as expressed through a typical Protestant refusal to countenance any "parliament in Dublin in thrall to a host of clerics."
The Boer War earns in-depth treatment to show the inconsistencies of such reformists as Michael Davitt. Despite all his sympathy for Australian aborigines and the Maori, Davitt remained silent when considering the plight of the native Africans as he and many Irish nationalists propagandized and supported the Boers against the Crown. Of course, many more Irish signed up to fight the Boers. Even if an "international consciousness" by modern times defined Irishness as Catholic and anti-British, many families relied on the payments sent home by soldiers to those who endured in poor, limited, and overpopulated conditions. Out of such discrimination and division, the last century's record of Irish fighting Irish begins its long litany of casualties and conflicted loyalties.
Nationalist Irish politics tore itself apart when allied to rebellion. However, after the doomed Rising of 1916, this glorified alliance was judged by enough bitter and beaten-down citizens as a desperate if timely necessity. By then, "Sinn Féin" republicans had convinced enough sympathizers that the Crown would never grant independence peacefully to what the imperial occupiers and a pro-British minority feared as an credulous, resentful, and nearby island that opened a "back door" to "Rome rule."
While these rebels claimed in rhetoric their socialist ideals and non-sectarian policies for all Irish, in practice, the majority of the divided island that resulted turned in on itself by censorship, repression, and moral panics designed to make it more Gaelic and more Catholic, as liberals fought to be heard in an increasingly conservative Free State. Still, facile portrayals of independent Ireland as cut off from European and certainly American culture are denied.
Dr. Hegarty reminds readers how dependent on wider currents of trade, ideas, and influences the Republic of Ireland has been. He examines the economy within the subsidized counties remaining, after yet another protracted conflict, under the Crown. At least, this Derry-born observer adds, in Ulster the "prevailing political uncertainty and civic abnormality kept house prices low and living conditions high" during the Troubles of the past decades.
Finally, the boom and bust of the past twenty years earns Dr. Hegarty's hope that a "sturdier civic culture" may be created to replace the "short-term, patronage and clientist politics" that led to the disfigurement of much of the Irish countryside with unplanned development, and a bubble where Dublin's real estate inflated into the world's most expensive. In a history illustrating the importance of global ties for the Irish, its links to a European economy facing unprecedented challenges by its own unity serve as a cautionary tale, to be careful what a vulnerable, secularizing, and newly affluent nation wishes for. As he concludes,"old pieties, myths and habits of deference are dissolving." What replaces these certainties, he insists, will be decided upon by the diverse people of Ireland themselves.
(Featured at New York Journal of Books 3-13-12)
Monday, July 11, 2011
Tommy McKearney's "The Provisional IRA": Book Review

Books on the Provos, the dominant faction after the 1970s IRA split with their more Marxist comrades, tend to fall into two categories. Historians and academics such as Rogelio Alonso, Kevin Bean, J. Bowyer Bell, Richard English, Henry Patterson, and Robert W. White tend towards heavily footnoted, analytical narratives; journalists from both Ireland and abroad such as Tim Pat Coogan, David McKittrick, Eamonn Mallie, Ed Moloney, Malachi O'Doherty, and Peter Taylor combine equally footnoted but more anecdotal accounts gleaned from a life or a stint reporting from the heartland of the Troubles during which the contemporary IRA revived and roared, mostly within the Northern Irish province.
What has been lacking from the growing shelf of studies are books which combine a journalist's verve with an historian's detachment. Until now.
This new book--so up-to-date that it covers the Irish Republic's elections this spring after the Dublin government collapsed into debt and sought an EU bailout--comes from a former IRA member who served over a decade and a half in the maximum-security, brutally-run prison known to the British securocrats as the Maze and to the Irish republicans as Long Kesh. Tommy McKearney speaks from the position of an insider, although his own crucial contributions are nearly unacknowledged. He was part of the 1980 hunger strike and helped spur (along with fellow critic of current Sinn Féin policy Anthony McIntyre) the prison movement the League of Communist Republicans in the later-1980s. McKearney gives but one parenthetical aside to the League as to his own leadership, and makes no mention of volunteering for the first of the major hunger strikes that soon would bring worldwide attention to the plight of Republican prisoners "on the blanket".
The results, therefore, serve to offer an objective, almost clinical, view of IRA strategy and tactics. These sections are preceded by chapter vignettes which open each chronological section with powerful paragraphs about the decisions made by various Northerners growing up in the Nationalist community, or coming into contact with it, who had to decide, by the end of the 1960s, whether to take up arms or to hoist the placards to bring about social change and more freedom for the Catholic minority. This community's rights were suppressed by a sectarian regime guaranteeing, by gerrymandering, discrimination, prejudice, and violence a "Protestant state for a Protestant people" ever since 1921 had compromised an Ireland into a Southern Republic and a Northern statelet.
The author rejects the revisionists who claim the Protestants were merely misunderstood; he places the blame for the conflict on a British-run, Protestant-majority system meant to keep the Catholics down. No moral or cultural equivalence can be sustained, and no civil rights movement seeking by peaceful means to bring about change in the late 1960s and early 1970s, McKearney insists, could have challenged the Crown enough to bring down an entrenched establishment. Even if the PIRA could break the Orange state, the one that followed is not quite Green, he adds.
That is, the IRA insurgency brought Northern Ireland to a standstill but not a military victory against an enormously capable British defense force and a political power able to resist reform. The Unionists now share power with the Republicans, but the new state, he finds, remains sectarian, if on a compromised scale according to Protestant and Catholic representation. Class solidarity is weakened while ideological separation, on parallel tracks, is strengthened. Capitalism continues, and socialism totters, undermining any claim by Republicans and radicals that cross-sectarian alliances might bring about equality.
McKearney's take, therefore, reflects leftist rejection of his Republican colleagues who have entered into the political parliaments, North and South, which they cannot overthrow. This has been the fatal attraction for generations of Republicans, for none have been able to overcome their minority status as a party or faction against their rivals already conducting affairs and running the state, who vow to keep business as usual. Poverty persists on each side, post-Celtic Tiger, of the border, as his end-noted statistics tally all too well.
Those who sought economic and social justice as new leftists, such as Bernadette Devlin in the civil rights days before the Troubles erupted, were able to wrest power from such as Communist organizer Betty Sinclair. Devlin, approaching Derry city, led marchers. She convinced crowds not to sit down alongside Sinclair, but to charge the barricades. But, as McKearney reminds readers, such heady promises of radical revolution soon failed when the guns of British troops killed fourteen innocent protesters on Bloody Sunday at the start of 1972. The futility of non-violent unrest convinced many to rise up and fight against the British.
As Provos took the advantage and took up arms, they did so in McKearney's view first as self-defense, then as a deterrent against reprisals, and then in a hope that the British could be forced by guerrilla warfare (and attacks in the British homeland) to withdraw from Ireland. No master plan carried this strategy out, as it was an ad hoc policy worked out hastily by often passionate volunteers committed to action rather than reflection, militarism rather than politicking. This weakened the Republican Movement in the 1970s as it had in earlier decades for those who ran the Irish Republic. Those who fought did not make necessarily the best candidates for leadership in the political parliaments they then sought, eventually, to enter rather than to erase.
Still, as others retreated from British guns, those who fought back inherited the responsibility to keep the struggle underground in a tiny island where guns, people, and talk all could be followed easily, by suspicious neighbors, by informants, by Protestant foes, and via British intelligence and informers. When, as recent years have shown, the head of IRA internal security and the right-hand advisor to Gerry Adams have both been revealed as informants to the Crown at critical stages in the Troubles dating back to the mid-1970s, no wonder the IRA failed to bring about its idealistic goals of a 32-County socialist, secular republic.
Principles and prudence clashed with the brutal realities of torture, betrayal, and weakness as working-class men and women sniped and bombed an enemy on many fronts--the Protestant militia, Loyalist paramilitias, the local police, and the British army. (McKearney skims over another factor, violent feuds with the Provos' former Marxist comrades, as they splintered and turned against one another.) Yet, in McKearney's pragmatic explanation, the PIRA had no choice, abandoned by the Republic of Ireland who viewed the resurgent Republicans as "the real problem rather than a response to it".
The PIRA found arms from their old boys' network through those who had fought fifty-odd years before for a partial independence from Britain. Yet, at the heart of this book is McKearney's avowal that the real mission of the Provos was less to gain that delayed unification of Ireland and more an overthrow of the Six Counties, the Northern Irish statelet.
Best to Come to This Book Informed & Alert
He compares the post-1998 expectations of the Provos since the end of their war to an imagined decision of Hamas to recognize Israel and to give up the refugees' "right of return". The Good Friday Agreement acknowledged with an all-Ireland vote (the first since 1918) that the island would for the present follow a "unity of consent" affording the Unionist majority in the North their right to ally with Britain. The Irish Republic abandoned its constitutional claim to jurisdiction over all of the island.
As with Anthony McIntyre and other prominent opponents to this peace process, the objection of these peaceful radical Republicans comes not from any regression to a "fetish of armed struggle", but to the fact that the Republicans entering power in Sinn Féin have given up on any attempt to bring about any more than a vague aspiration towards national unity and socialism. Some who fought for the ideals of the Provos now feel that their leaders lied to them even as they sent them to fight or saw them off to prison, and have since then sold them out.
McKearney holds no romance for the Fenian cause, but he does remain driven by its energy. Sinn Féin's neo-liberal economics, status-seeking respectability, and patterns of suppression of dissent within Republican communities inspire McKearney to the revival of an earlier Irish radical dream, that of a more just society based upon a class-based, secular solidarity.
The hope of a transformed Ireland does not seem to appeal as much as it once had. The Irish Republic ends its national phase, content to govern three-fourths of the territory and to follow neo-liberal capitalism however cloaked in republican rhetoric. The rejection of "single-issue Republicanism" bent on one Ireland means that sectarianism in the North is solidified on Catholic and Protestant identification (a communal one that does not depend on religious affirmation; similar to the Jewish conception of themselves as a people and not only a religious entity).
For McKearney, a non-establishment version of Radical Republicanism perhaps represents the only hope. This book may not convince those unsympathetic to his vision. A marked understatement about what Republicans (if not herein) call "the physical-force tradition" reveals indirectly his own experience in the IRA. He never reveals his own story, but his combination of vivid characters called in to start each chapter as composite representations perhaps of what volunteers and fellow-travelers endured shows his ability to infuse with journalistic energy and a storyteller's skill the idealism and the agony (and a bit of welcome if droll wit) of the Republican who slogged through the streets and ditches in hopes of bringing about Irish freedom.
However, the horrors of assassinations and of bombings with or without warning, of vicious attacks on civilians, on children, on raw recruits as well as prison staff, on and off duty, does persist, if well outside of this narrative. Some readers may react to this passage with a range of feelings: "Whatever rationale the IRA offered for the imperative of acting as it did, many Protestant people viewed this campaign as a sectarian assault on their community. This anger in turn lent a semblance of justification from a Unionist point of view." There is a careful, diplomatic distancing within this phrasing. While McKearney throughout this book combines a short, powerfully imagined scene with a more academic analysis of the PIRA's campaign and tactics, the scholarly register here may speak to some skeptics of a continued reluctance to accept blame.
I can hear on the page (even at a distance) the power of McKearney's position; in meeting him once, I was impressed by his compressed energy, his adroit intellect, and his steely insistence that his intricately argued philosophy presented progressive Republicans in Ireland with an alternative to what Sinn Féin and its leaders had proclaimed the party line. The appearance of the renewed leftist bloc Éirígí may signal a wider application of core Republican activists who seek to work within a wider constituency of those disenchanted with capitalism. These progressives seek (as the answer to continuing Irish inequalities in opportunity and in equality) a fairer system, cognizant of class and not sectarianism as the ultimate divide keeping many on the island from fulfillment of their common hopes.
As in person, so in this book: McKearney packs so much material expressing both progressive dreams and pragmatic strategies into such a brief time that one must come to him informed and alert.
His history, one that brings the impact of informers (if not the IRAs killing of supposed or real informers), elections North and South, and the continued economic meltdown of capitalism and neo-liberal policies inflicted upon the Irish population throughout the island, makes this a valuable and recommended study. Some of those authors whom I mentioned earlier will prove easier guides to the entire story of the IRA (before and after its spats and splits). But for a contemporary analysis of the main IRA force in its forty years "from insurrection to parliament", from a participant not in a seminar but a cell, as an operative and not as a professor, as not a reporter but a volunteer and a leader of the IRA, this is the report worth pondering.
(Featured on June 29, 2011 in RePrint at PopMatters; also posted July 4-5 to Amazon US & Lunch.com in shorter and altered form.)
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Kevin Myers' "Watching the Door": Book Review
This reads as if a mad picaresque tale. Myers as first a reporter for RTÉ (Irish state radio and television) and then as a freelance journalist with no real experience, finds himself wandering into savagery as he hastens north as the Troubles explode. A soldier dies next to him; he witnesses an IRA ambush; he sees children shot to death by snipers. The adjectives pile up: the conditions in 1970s Belfast lead to a life led as lies. Insane, vile, ludicrous, preposterous characterize what happens to everyday situations turned into hidden truths, revealed only behind one’s own doors, to one’s own tribe.
The prose takes one through barricades and checkpoints wittily if not to me always accurately. Perhaps as with Myers’ own encounters when he first ventured into the statelet, today’s intrepid tourists may find the “pathological hospitality” credited to Northerners but Ballymurphy, the admittedly dull housing estate in West Belfast, seemed overstated as “mesmerizingly hideous”. Myers, a mordant critic of nationalist pieties, heaps scorn on incoherent IRA Belfast one-time leader Seamus Twomey. Those for whom Twomey claimed to speak and fight, Myers insists, were rarely asked. “The vote for hostilities was unanimous among those people with guns: and those without were not consulted”. (89)
Myers pinpoints the problem inherent in Irish republicanism as “an almost autonomous state with an internal folklore that embraces and indoctrinates those admitted to its mysteries. Suffering, either inflicted or endured, is a keynote to its ethos”. (14) He contrasts Twomey’s ravings with today’s republicans with a “telegenic veneer of suited respectability”. Twomey’s the “raw product: a man indoctrinated in the ways of death, who had repeatedly and casually caused men to be murdered. These deeds meant nothing to him: his eyes were not cold but angry, as if he lived his life in a permanently homicidal rage. His soul knew no pity, his conscience no sin”. (91)
The IRA never wants to claim responsibility, as Myers argues it, for the Troubles; republicans blame a white Cortina’s disappearance before a bombing, or they blame the system. And even when blame’s justified, as with Bloody Sunday, why its fourteen sudden deaths garner far more publicity than the fifteen blown up by loyalist terrorists a month earlier at McGurk’s pub mystifies him as a reporter. But, such news ensures his own paycheck, and his pursuit of such horrors creates his own career.
Not that the British troops, their commanders, the loyalist paramilitaries, the nutting squads escape opprobrium. “Everyone in Northern Ireland lied. Everyone, without exception: republicans, loyalists, soldiers, police—everyone. Lying is easy in such a place. It is the default mode to which everyone turns when there is no consensus about truth. In the absence of an agreed reality, truth is whatever you’re having yourself”. (117-8) Myers names the victims, and makes us watch as they die. He tallies forty people he knew who died in the North, and another eight he did not, but whom he watched die. We like him are forced to remember how statistics cloak murder, and how anguish shatters those left behind.
Myers rails against the warped Fenian perspective for those trapped there by their own stubbornness. “The Northern Irish nationalist ghetto experience” ensured that those “north of the drumlins concocted stereotypes, and then lived their lives surrounded by these people of their own imagination”. (145) As the son of Dubliners who left during WWII for work in Britain, his first name and his own English accent from his Leicester upbringing mark him as close enough to be suspected for his Catholic loyalties, foreign enough to stand out among the unionists. He’s also suspected as an undercover British officer spying on the paramilitaries. He judges himself one of the only men frequenting both the Falls and the Shankill Roads as he crosses sectarian lines to drink among those thugs who—as with the sinister UVF loyalist despot “Rab Brown”-- may plot his own demise from within the pub, if later that very night.
As the decade and the Troubles grind on, Myers loses his bearings. He struggles to find work, to keep girlfriends (although he beds an impressive number), and to stay sane amidst the “exonerative moral machinery” which grinds down his resistance to republican rhetoric and unionist idiocy. As a “semi-hippy”, his loyalty to the factions supposedly fighting against imperialism turn tested as the Official IRA’s contorted justifications for capitalist gain in the service of a Marxist revolution confound even him. (See my Amazon US review of "The Lost Revolution" by Brian Hanley & Scott Millar; this cites Myers briefly.)
Everyone fighting against the Crown gets paid by it, for housing, rebuilding grants, the dole, and this turns the first war where both enemies benefit from a common benefactor and (sometimes) foe. The years wear him down, as he hears over and over how the IRA allows its members immunity for the most hideous outrages. The cant of its volunteers and the endlessly one-sided recital of their woes disgust him. “For immunity-to-consequence was both a by-product of the Troubles, and its fuel, rather as a nuclear reactor can run on its own waste”. (230)
Everyone fighting against the Crown gets paid by it, for housing, rebuilding grants, the dole, and this turns the first war where both enemies benefit from a common benefactor and (sometimes) foe. The years wear him down, as he hears over and over how the IRA allows its members immunity for the most hideous outrages. The cant of its volunteers and the endlessly one-sided recital of their woes disgust him. “For immunity-to-consequence was both a by-product of the Troubles, and its fuel, rather as a nuclear reactor can run on its own waste”. (230)
Still, Myers for all his acerbic contempt for all involved in taking a guerrilla war into a densely populated city manages to admit the “compulsive generosity” and unbroken gallantry of a resilient and kind resident who endures in the West Belfast ghettoes with admirable good will and innate decency. He fills the narrative with vivid reportage from his perspective, starting with the Shaws Road ambush he tape recorded after he stumbled upon its IRA setup, and continuing into Robert Bankier’s last breath as a British soldier, the final moments of Rose McCartney and Patrick O’Neill at the hands of loyalist killers, and a bomb attack Myers narrowly misses meant for that “deeply manipulative” republican apologist to “revolutionary tourists”, John McGuffin. Myers provides abundant tragedy, danger, and narrow escapes.
Luckily, he intersperses happier tales. His best, such as Lady Henrietta Guinness meeting the consumers of her family’s stout in West Belfast’s pubs, combine a poignant moment with a satirical relish for the absurd that all too often became the ordinary. He loves relating his two escapades when the man of the house returned and Myers had to hide from the cuckold; his visit to his friend Barney’s brothel, surely the least successful in all of Ulster, represents a comic triumph. My favorite episode, near the end of this often dispiriting narrative, managed to lift my spirits. His hosting of Shannon, an utterly unspeakable American feminist, who befuddles Myers with her contradictions, as a splendid set piece succeeds.
His memoir confronts his own complicity as a journalist who becomes too intimate with those who he meets, for Myers looks back upon his own compulsion to mix with the natives turned friends, lovers, and neighbors. Malachi O’Doherty’s The Telling Year: Belfast 1972 (see my Amazon or "Blogtrotter" review) documents a similar experience by a fellow journalist, but a native who finds himself reporting on his own neighbors. As for Myers, he attempts to reduce the tension. He arranges a meeting across enemy lines. This backfires. He flees to another district after loyalist brutes through whom he tried to broker a truce target him. Everyone talks to him, but Myers learns that half-truths fill their admissions. He is never trusted enough by any side.
Nobody’s innocent, at least those who he estimates provided fifty silent supporters in every community for the one among them who fired back. Certainly, his judgment of the IRA also stands for the recruits and activists whom the republicans fought. Loyalists and “security forces” indulged in their own equally lucrative, cynical, and repellent campaigns. While history often earned the appeal and politics the justification for violence and intimidation, Myers denies their ideological legitimacy. “The Provisional IRA did not consult the living, only the past and future: the present meant nothing to them”. (226)
Of the catalyst for the deaths which sparked the doomed Peace People, Myers writes that the only sacrifices which mattered to the republicans were when the wrongs were committed by the other side. In this spiral of violence, it reminded me of Orwell’s 1984. As in Oceania, the IRA declared war against one if not always two of its opponents, as allies turned sudden enemies and friends were targeted as foes. This malignant maelstrom before decade’s end spun him out of the province, as he tried to escape the degradation that corroded his professional career and personal life. As I finished, I wondered what he learned, for the back cover tells us he went on to cover civil war in 1980s Lebanon and 1990s Bosnia. (Posted in slightly shorter and edited form to Lunch.com & Amazon US 4-26-11. In much shorter form to Slugger O'Toole, this popular Irish-British political-cultural portal, 11-3-11.)
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Brian Hanley & Scott Millar's "The Lost Revolution": Book Review
How Fenians turned leftists, and then split into militants and paramilitaries, one faction campaigning, the other operatives bankrobbing, to bring about a 32-County Socialist Republic sounds familiar. But this isn't the Sinn Féin and IRA most know (at least outside Ireland). The Provisionals, who took the media and then political spotlight, split in 1969-70 from the original, then-Marxist republicans, who were forced to call themselves Officials, but their put-down as Sticks or Stickies soon stuck (the way they wore their Easter lily pin) while Pinheads for their soon-to-be bitter rivals more than cousins never did. Brian Hanley's written a fine history of the earlier IRA, in its humbled incarnation 1926-36 after it fell from power after the Civil War and the rise of its enemies as the Free State. So, he and journalist Scott Millar possess the acumen and patience necessary to finally tell the Official's story, after five years of interviews and research.
As with the IRA in the 20c, victories proved brief and setbacks long-lived. The narrative recalls the years of regrouping after the failure of Operation Harvest, a futile late-1950s guerrilla action in the North of Ireland. Leaders entertained a political wing to accompany the traditional "physical-force" strategy. Gradually, as British-trained Communists and radicals coalesced around a Dublin-based core of believers, the 1960s found republicans involved in civil rights, resistance to British and foreign-owned businesses and property holders, and causes that placed the activists more and more on Ireland's tiny far-left, even as many republicans carried the considerable counterweight of Catholic dogma.
The dense details add up, and livelier sections of this study retell stories that any student of Irish history the past half-century will know well. However, as the perspective's for once not from the predominant Provo-oriented side, it's fresher even if often familiar. The shift in the angle reveals how bitter the Official-Provo feuds became, and how the momentum early in the 70s lay with the OIRA, given their strength in numbers and more coherent, if increasingly far-left rhetoric. This politically correct, undeviating, relentlessly logical mindset doubtless alienated more than it wooed.
The logic of their Communist and Marxist ideology led the Officials to oppose the elevation of the cause of the hunger strikers (four of whom started off with the Officials before their second split that led to the INLA-IRSP formation not long into the 70s), to back the RUC and state security forces against the Provos (despite inevitable cooperation between some republicans however unapproved during most of the Troubles), and backed by a British Communist "two-nation theory," the argument that the British community in the North had as much right to political determination of their future as did the island's Catholic majority. How this was sold to the largely native, pro-republican community, angered and turning to tit-for-tat sectarianism in revenge and self-defense however politically incorrect, remains despite this six-hundred-page study largely a mystery.
That is, I wondered how the Officials in their Sinn Féin-the Workers' Party stage (they also articulated a stagist model that argued to support the British presence for now, so as to better overthrow it come the impending dawn of Irish working-class socialism later), managed to convince their cadres, to get the vote out (often 1-2% of the total in the 26 Counties but enough by the early '80s on Ireland's preferential system to earn them up to seven representatives in the Dáil or Irish parliament, and a chance to topple one coalition), and to motivate so few to do so much for so long against what I expect were very long odds indeed.
Millar and Hanley do their best to keep the anecdotes coming, analyze the manifestoes, scour the press, and talk to the participants, their enemies, and their often rather befuddled neighbors and colleagues and recruits. And in an era when global capital appears to have won despite its own internal schisms and lack of compassion, it's bracing to read again such as Cathal Goulding after Allende's overthrow: "At what point in history was it ever possible to say to the power hungry and the rich: stop, you have had enough. You cannot ask the tiger for mercy." (267)
The Officials did perpetuate, from the 60s on, the image of the hairy-git, the dismal tract and the stolid placard-waving march. John Arden, a playwright (many intellectuals and journalists passed through their mandated study circles, more it seems in Ireland than graduated from the Provos' "University of Revolution" at such as Long Kesh prison) lamented (as he was expelled as were many progressive idealists who couldn't put up with the Leninist discipline and the Stalinist tendencies for "democratic centralism") how these politically ambitious comrades would soon be in Leinster House, "talking big and keeping quiet," while there they'd find "many masters of your craft already seated in the Dáil ready and willing to instruct your apprentice legislators." (249-250). This ambition to enter the political structures of the Irish (and Northern Irish) establishment distinguished them from their Provo rivals, who disdained this treason, at least for a few decades.
As the years went on, the Official IRA was shunted underground; by 1977 or so, the military wing had its feathers trimmed by the political Sinn Féiners who sought Protestant support for their non-sectarian platform. This naturally distanced themselves from the Catholic republican alliance, but it did win them (a few) converts from across the sectarian divide. Most republicans clung to their guns, so the Officials had a hard time convincing their "natural" constituency to surrender their ancestral and communal loyalties to Fenian identity.
In the aftermath of the Workers' Party (who dropped Sinn Féin as the vestige of an unwanted legacy) breakthough into the Dáil as kingmakers in the early 80s, they faltered. They backed an oil refinery in Dublin Bay and mocked environmentalists. They idolized industry but baited tax-dodging farmers. Their principled opposition to Provisional pieties and the cult of the hunger strikers (as they denigrated or downplayed it) made it imperative that they replace their republican base, dwindling, with a wider leftist one across Ireland. Paul Bew and Henry Patterson noted in '83 how the WP had been "reduced to a hard core of support in Catholic areas" of the North even as it continued to "expose the gap between the verbose professions of generosity and non-sectarianism of both constitutional and non-constitutional nationalism and the rather seamy reality." (499)
This sordidness also defined the Provos' one-time comrades turned enemies more than estranged relatives. Even if "special activities" of what internal WP documents called "Group B" occluded the role of the OIRA, everyone knew of their continued existence, and their threats backed up with guns, forgery, counterfeiting, and deals that led to North Korean, Soviet and Iraqi (in the regime of Saddam Hussein) skulduggery. The theories expounded by the WP drove them to oppose Solidarity, praise Kim Il-Sung, and condemn the Hungarians who rose up against tanks in 1956. The Officials were unbending leftists, who pitilessly conducted their own purges, secret trials, doublespeak, and endless self-correction. They bowed to state socialists as totalitarians-- against the rebels and dissidents; so they seemed, as the Cold War ended, to risk derision.
Paddy Woodward, in 1991 as the Officials' beloved USSR collapsed, critiqued the WP's groupthink. The OIRA to their credit gave up their futile military campaign (if not their criminality) but they perpetuated among their co-conspirators their fatal "cult of authoritarianism, the fetish for discipline," which however necessary for a paramilitary wing, poisoned their political balance. Woodward noted how the party was seen as too Communist: "rigid, hard, masculine," and their expansion into what the party pitched as their PR move to entice the "white-collar, professional, female house-owning sector" appeared limited. (566)
The internal contradictions tore the movement apart. As socialism's appeal dimmed and post-glasnost capitalism glowed, the appeal of the WP appeared miniscule. Scandals tore apart the few remaining after yet another split, the Democratic Left party, and by the end of this long march, the few remaining inspire less sympathy than they do detachment. The WP could not detach itself from its own thuggery that accompanied its slogans. Read this and remember the deaths of such fellow Irish, workers and children, those whom the party and the army claimed to liberate: Good Samaritan Sammy Llewellyn, census taker Patricia Mathers, ten-year-old bomb victim Kevin McMenamin, six-year-old Eileen Kelly shot instead of her father; the Provos apologized afterwards. They had meant to kill her Official father in one of thousands of score-settling feuds.
As often elsewhere in documenting the contradictory course of republican justification over the past forty years, ex-PIRA participant-observer Anthony McIntyre's here cited. This book nears its end with his prescient 29 October 2002 obituary in The Blanket:
What I wondered is how convinced the less heralded members of the OIRA and WP were of the imminent revolution, the takeover of the island, the fact that victory could be theirs despite woeful ballot results and their increasing military and then political marginalization. Leaders are often quoted from the party, ideologues and speechmakers, but the voices of the volunteer, the canvasser, the prisoner, the recruit, as perhaps with any such organization, lurk more in the anonymous quotes, the quieter sense of rueful vengeance and youthful dreaming.
The index is slightly incomplete, but typos are nearly absent; the compilation of details and the attention to primary sources represents a lasting work. So many books about and by the Provos crowd the shelves. Now, we have one substantial study of their common ancestors turned in the course of days or months distant cousins, if still next-door neighbors.
(Here's a recent review on Only a Northern Song which I found after writing mine, as I was searching for McIntyre's original citation. Link to his current blog, The Pensive Quill and to his archived The Blanket. The moment I typed this, the BBC aired a segment on the Real IRA's opposition to the Queen's Irish visit.)
(Posted in condensed form to Amazon US & Lunch.com 4-25-11)
As with the IRA in the 20c, victories proved brief and setbacks long-lived. The narrative recalls the years of regrouping after the failure of Operation Harvest, a futile late-1950s guerrilla action in the North of Ireland. Leaders entertained a political wing to accompany the traditional "physical-force" strategy. Gradually, as British-trained Communists and radicals coalesced around a Dublin-based core of believers, the 1960s found republicans involved in civil rights, resistance to British and foreign-owned businesses and property holders, and causes that placed the activists more and more on Ireland's tiny far-left, even as many republicans carried the considerable counterweight of Catholic dogma.
The dense details add up, and livelier sections of this study retell stories that any student of Irish history the past half-century will know well. However, as the perspective's for once not from the predominant Provo-oriented side, it's fresher even if often familiar. The shift in the angle reveals how bitter the Official-Provo feuds became, and how the momentum early in the 70s lay with the OIRA, given their strength in numbers and more coherent, if increasingly far-left rhetoric. This politically correct, undeviating, relentlessly logical mindset doubtless alienated more than it wooed.
The logic of their Communist and Marxist ideology led the Officials to oppose the elevation of the cause of the hunger strikers (four of whom started off with the Officials before their second split that led to the INLA-IRSP formation not long into the 70s), to back the RUC and state security forces against the Provos (despite inevitable cooperation between some republicans however unapproved during most of the Troubles), and backed by a British Communist "two-nation theory," the argument that the British community in the North had as much right to political determination of their future as did the island's Catholic majority. How this was sold to the largely native, pro-republican community, angered and turning to tit-for-tat sectarianism in revenge and self-defense however politically incorrect, remains despite this six-hundred-page study largely a mystery.
That is, I wondered how the Officials in their Sinn Féin-the Workers' Party stage (they also articulated a stagist model that argued to support the British presence for now, so as to better overthrow it come the impending dawn of Irish working-class socialism later), managed to convince their cadres, to get the vote out (often 1-2% of the total in the 26 Counties but enough by the early '80s on Ireland's preferential system to earn them up to seven representatives in the Dáil or Irish parliament, and a chance to topple one coalition), and to motivate so few to do so much for so long against what I expect were very long odds indeed.
Millar and Hanley do their best to keep the anecdotes coming, analyze the manifestoes, scour the press, and talk to the participants, their enemies, and their often rather befuddled neighbors and colleagues and recruits. And in an era when global capital appears to have won despite its own internal schisms and lack of compassion, it's bracing to read again such as Cathal Goulding after Allende's overthrow: "At what point in history was it ever possible to say to the power hungry and the rich: stop, you have had enough. You cannot ask the tiger for mercy." (267)
The Officials did perpetuate, from the 60s on, the image of the hairy-git, the dismal tract and the stolid placard-waving march. John Arden, a playwright (many intellectuals and journalists passed through their mandated study circles, more it seems in Ireland than graduated from the Provos' "University of Revolution" at such as Long Kesh prison) lamented (as he was expelled as were many progressive idealists who couldn't put up with the Leninist discipline and the Stalinist tendencies for "democratic centralism") how these politically ambitious comrades would soon be in Leinster House, "talking big and keeping quiet," while there they'd find "many masters of your craft already seated in the Dáil ready and willing to instruct your apprentice legislators." (249-250). This ambition to enter the political structures of the Irish (and Northern Irish) establishment distinguished them from their Provo rivals, who disdained this treason, at least for a few decades.
As the years went on, the Official IRA was shunted underground; by 1977 or so, the military wing had its feathers trimmed by the political Sinn Féiners who sought Protestant support for their non-sectarian platform. This naturally distanced themselves from the Catholic republican alliance, but it did win them (a few) converts from across the sectarian divide. Most republicans clung to their guns, so the Officials had a hard time convincing their "natural" constituency to surrender their ancestral and communal loyalties to Fenian identity.
In the aftermath of the Workers' Party (who dropped Sinn Féin as the vestige of an unwanted legacy) breakthough into the Dáil as kingmakers in the early 80s, they faltered. They backed an oil refinery in Dublin Bay and mocked environmentalists. They idolized industry but baited tax-dodging farmers. Their principled opposition to Provisional pieties and the cult of the hunger strikers (as they denigrated or downplayed it) made it imperative that they replace their republican base, dwindling, with a wider leftist one across Ireland. Paul Bew and Henry Patterson noted in '83 how the WP had been "reduced to a hard core of support in Catholic areas" of the North even as it continued to "expose the gap between the verbose professions of generosity and non-sectarianism of both constitutional and non-constitutional nationalism and the rather seamy reality." (499)
This sordidness also defined the Provos' one-time comrades turned enemies more than estranged relatives. Even if "special activities" of what internal WP documents called "Group B" occluded the role of the OIRA, everyone knew of their continued existence, and their threats backed up with guns, forgery, counterfeiting, and deals that led to North Korean, Soviet and Iraqi (in the regime of Saddam Hussein) skulduggery. The theories expounded by the WP drove them to oppose Solidarity, praise Kim Il-Sung, and condemn the Hungarians who rose up against tanks in 1956. The Officials were unbending leftists, who pitilessly conducted their own purges, secret trials, doublespeak, and endless self-correction. They bowed to state socialists as totalitarians-- against the rebels and dissidents; so they seemed, as the Cold War ended, to risk derision.
Paddy Woodward, in 1991 as the Officials' beloved USSR collapsed, critiqued the WP's groupthink. The OIRA to their credit gave up their futile military campaign (if not their criminality) but they perpetuated among their co-conspirators their fatal "cult of authoritarianism, the fetish for discipline," which however necessary for a paramilitary wing, poisoned their political balance. Woodward noted how the party was seen as too Communist: "rigid, hard, masculine," and their expansion into what the party pitched as their PR move to entice the "white-collar, professional, female house-owning sector" appeared limited. (566)
The internal contradictions tore the movement apart. As socialism's appeal dimmed and post-glasnost capitalism glowed, the appeal of the WP appeared miniscule. Scandals tore apart the few remaining after yet another split, the Democratic Left party, and by the end of this long march, the few remaining inspire less sympathy than they do detachment. The WP could not detach itself from its own thuggery that accompanied its slogans. Read this and remember the deaths of such fellow Irish, workers and children, those whom the party and the army claimed to liberate: Good Samaritan Sammy Llewellyn, census taker Patricia Mathers, ten-year-old bomb victim Kevin McMenamin, six-year-old Eileen Kelly shot instead of her father; the Provos apologized afterwards. They had meant to kill her Official father in one of thousands of score-settling feuds.
As often elsewhere in documenting the contradictory course of republican justification over the past forty years, ex-PIRA participant-observer Anthony McIntyre's here cited. This book nears its end with his prescient 29 October 2002 obituary in The Blanket:
the seeming losers in those feuds – the Officials – must be sitting wryly observing that, body counts apart, they ultimately came out on top. We, who wanted to kill them – because they argued to go into Stormont, to remain on ceasefire, support the reform of the RUC, uphold the consent principle and dismiss as rejectionist others who disagreed with them – are now forced to pretend that somehow we are really different from them; that they were incorrigible reformists while we were incorruptible revolutionaries; that killing them had some major strategic rationale. And all the while the truth ‘sticks’ in our throats. They beat us to it – and started the peace process first. (598-599)This history remains a welcome contribution. Many pages I admit did dull me with diligent records of bickering and revenge, pedantry and platforms, but as with any political entity, these first-hand findings deserve inclusion. These depict the applauded activity (and shadowy skulduggery) of those who aspire to power.
What I wondered is how convinced the less heralded members of the OIRA and WP were of the imminent revolution, the takeover of the island, the fact that victory could be theirs despite woeful ballot results and their increasing military and then political marginalization. Leaders are often quoted from the party, ideologues and speechmakers, but the voices of the volunteer, the canvasser, the prisoner, the recruit, as perhaps with any such organization, lurk more in the anonymous quotes, the quieter sense of rueful vengeance and youthful dreaming.
The index is slightly incomplete, but typos are nearly absent; the compilation of details and the attention to primary sources represents a lasting work. So many books about and by the Provos crowd the shelves. Now, we have one substantial study of their common ancestors turned in the course of days or months distant cousins, if still next-door neighbors.
(Here's a recent review on Only a Northern Song which I found after writing mine, as I was searching for McIntyre's original citation. Link to his current blog, The Pensive Quill and to his archived The Blanket. The moment I typed this, the BBC aired a segment on the Real IRA's opposition to the Queen's Irish visit.)
(Posted in condensed form to Amazon US & Lunch.com 4-25-11)
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