Peter Robinson: are you the Captain in disguise?

Peter Robinson doesn’t look like Terence O’Neill and he doesn’t sound like him (OK, maybe a smidgen of nasal-tone match) but in his  DUP conference  speech he reminded me of the Captain.

For the benefit of the younger members of our audience, Captain Terence O’Neill was the top man of unionism in the 1960s. Most people remember him for his famous Crossroads speech, of which nobody took a blind bit of notice. Some people remember him for inviting An Taoiseach Sean Lemass,up to Stormont for a cup of tea. Myself, I remember him as the Man Who Visited Convents. One minute, he’d never been near one, next you couldn’t open a newspaper but you’d see Terence  flanked by a set of smiling nuns. No, Virginia, Captain O’Neill was not thinking of converting to Catholicism. He was in those convents in search not of faith but votes.  Catholic votes. Alas, Catholics started demanding civil rights instead and then the balloon went up.

You may wonder why O’Neill wanted Catholic votes.  Hadn’t he more than enough votes from Protestants/unionists? He had.  But maybe the Captain figured the demographics, long-term, were against him.  Or maybe he felt nervous with this large undigested section of the population straining in the opposite direction from him and unionism. You may be sure he wasn’t looking for Catholic votes because he really, really liked Catholics. He wanted their votes because he was convinced it’d be in the interests of unionism.

Which brings us to Peter Robinson’s speech. In it, Peter scoffed at the idea of having a border poll and declared more Catholics than ever before are now happy to remain in the United Kingdom. 

Those two statements surprised me, coming from Peter. I’ve always thought of  him as a man of logic.  On the few occasions when he tried making gestures towards the emotional or dramatic,  like wearing an Ulster Resistance beret or breaking windows in Clontibret, he just looked silly. So it baffles me how he could hold those two views in his head simultaneously: (i)  a border poll is laughable and (ii) more Catholics than ever want to stay in the union.

John Taylor,  the greatest leader  unionism never had, used to say the second bit - that lots of Catholics were happy as pigs in muck with the present set-up. But he never added “And a border poll would be ridiculous”.  Peter, in contrast, did.  Which pushes to centre-stage the obvious question: what better time for a unionist to have a border poll than when loads of Catholics are in favour of the union? Think what it’d mean if the union got a resounding Yes from tens of thousands of Catholics: a major - perhaps the major plank in Sinn Féin’s platform would have been sawn clean off.  If I thought like Peter, I’d be yelling “Bring it on, right now!”  And were he to do so, I’d be the first to clap him on the back. Not because I have access to the voting intentions of Catholics ( which Peter appears to have) but because I think we should dealing in realities and not dreams. 

For fifty years, successive Irish governments in the south dodged reality, particularly the reality of the border. They gave impressive speeches about the need to strive for the historical goal of a united Ireland, but they never stirred a finger to help achieve that goal. So let’s all, unionist and anti-unionist, try not to sink to that hypocritical level.

Because here’s the thing: a border poll would tell us all where we stood. Peter is confident any referendum on constitutional change would be resoundingly defeated. Maybe he’s right. Or maybe he’s wrong. But if we had the actual wishes of the people, we’d know where we stand. If a majority favours continued union with Britain, then nationalists and republicans will have to go off and have a rethink.   If, however, the poll indicated that Peter was wrong and that a majority of people are in favour of a re-united Ireland, then their wishes, in line with the Good Friday Agreement, will have to be acted on.

One thing’s sure: driving into the future with your headlights switched off isn’t just silly. It’s dangerous. 

Are republicans marching in the wrong direction?

For unionists, the sight of Martin McGuinness at the heart of the North’s government must a pill beyond bitter. Republicans may point to this to emphasise the massive changes that have occurred and how the Orange state has been effectively dismantled. Their goal remains a re-united, independent Ireland. Their problem, however, is how they should regard the state of Northern Ireland in the meantime.

Charlie Haughey famously described the north as a “failed state”, and he was right, in that Northern Ireland could not exist without a huge annual subvention from London. However, exist it does. Sinn Féin now share its government with the DUP and other parties. The problem for republicans is, do they want to see Northern Ireland prosper or perish?

For decades the bombs and killings gave the unambiguous answer: they wanted it to perish. Now that the peace process is firmly in place, what should  republican attitudes be to the state they’re in?

The obvious answer appears to be that they will work in a positive spirit to making the place the best it can be. Partition has damaged north and south not just economically but in all sorts of other ways as well. But given that partition remains in place, republicans appear set on not just healing old wounds but making the northern state as successful on as many fronts as possible.

And therein lies the irony. The more republicans work for the success of this state,  the more (presumably) unionists will come to trust them as co-workers  and old divisions will begin to vanish. However, the more successful the north becomes, the stronger the argument for continued union with Britain. Why fix it if it ain’t broke? 

I think there are two answers to that. The first is that success cannot be measured in economic terms alone. Certainly a full belly and a decent job are a necessity for most of us; but it’d be wrong to say that concern for economic success crowds out all other concerns. The recent poll in the south indicates that a sizeable number of southerners would welcome unity, even if that had negative connotations for their own living standard. Man does not live by bread alone, nor woman either. That’s why we shouldn’t be too quick to respond with a dismissive snort when polls are constructed that attempt to measure happiness as distinct from merely economic success.

The second answer has to do with something we Irish are not always good at; self-respect. Were the northern economy prospering, were the material conditions of all the citizens in the north to be comfortable and getting better, it would still be a sad reflection on our immaturity that we depend on an annual hand-out from London and the control of such matters as taxation and foreign policy from that outside source.

With those two matters in mind, maybe there’s less irony than there seems in republicans working towards a better Northern Ireland. This isn’t a peace settlement, it’s a peace process; and it’s not one that aims to stop with a resurgent northern state. 

Me speak Irish? Get real!

Interesting piece of information in this morning’s Irish Times. It’s headed ‘Most people say they can speak some Irish’, but in the last paragraph it tells us that most people (again, in the twenty-six counties) say they don’t want Irish revived as the main spoken language of the country (by which I presume they once more mean the twenty-six county state).

In between heading and finish, there are some significant pieces of information. For example,  Sinn Féin voters have the lowest proportion capable of speaking some  Irish (admittedly it’s 75 % ) and highest among Fine Gael voters (86%).  You can read all about it at  http://www.irishtimes.com/newspaper/ireland/2012/1128/1224327207177.html

My own moment of epiphany regarding the Irish language came some years ago when I was at a European conference for teacher educators. They were a lively group, keen on establishing contact with one another and keen to find out more about their fellow-Europeans. So this Dutch guy said to me “You - you are English, right?”  I told him no no no, I was Irish. “Big difference there” I told him. “Ah” he said. “I see. And Ireland - is there an Irish language?”  I told him there certainly was, a rich and historical language full of beauty and nuance. “Ah” he said again. “And you can speak it?” Um, er, I’ll get me coat, then.  Here was I, extolling the uniqueness of Ireland, and unlike my interrogator and those around him, I was incapable of speaking even a few coherent sentences in my own language.  I’ve since made stumbling efforts to rectify that short-coming but the memory of my own blindness still stays with me.

It’s not surprising that most people in the south don’t want Irish to be the main working language of Ireland. They clearly see this as meaning that speaking English would be demoted and we’d lose the economic edge that speaking English gives us. There’s little chance of that, I’d say. Besides, those who promote the Irish language do so with the aim of having people equally fluent in both languages. 

Does it matter? Isn’t it embarrassing when Gerry Adams speaks his halting, Northern-accented Irish at the start of many speeches? Only if you’ve a prejudice against the Northern accent and you think that it’s better not to speak Irish at all rather than speak it less than perfectly - two fairly sad positions to adopt. 

Irish at present is undergoing something of a revival, particularly in the north and, surprisingly, among the Dublin middle-class. And encouragingly, the Irish Times  survey shows young people more likely to be able to speak Irish than their older counterparts. 

But to repeat: does it matter? I believe it does, for two reasons. One, consider the whale. A huge, warm-blooded, beautiful creature who plays no necessary part in the lives of nearly all of us. Yet if it were to be announced that whale numbers were declining, that it would be soon extinct, and that it wasn’t worth trying to save it, we’d be appalled. To let all that power and beauty just die! Unthinkable.  The same, only multiplied by 10, goes for the Irish language. It’s too massive and miraculous to even think about letting die. 

Tir gan teanga, tir gan anam - a country without a language is a country without a soul? I’m not completely sure of that. But a country with its own language will have a deal more self-respect and self-confidence,  two qualities that we Irish have always struggled with. 

Why 12 December won't mean much to the Finucanes

I used to think that the killing of Pat Finucane touched people here, at least in part, because he was middle-class.  A successful lawyer, living in a nice house, sitting down to a  family dinner as so many people like him have done. And then the door opens and Death comes in. 

I still think that the ease with which the middle-class could identify with him and his family played a part in his death standing out from so many others. But I’ve changed my mind that class was the central issue in terms of people’s response. I now believe it was because he was a lawyer. 

The fact that he came from a republican family, the fact that he defended those charged with IRA activities should not have entered into his right to conduct his work with all the energy and talent he had. The fact is that Pat Finucane played by the rules - he worked literally within the law. And for that he was cut down mercilessly in front of his wife and children. 

The family have for years been campaigning for a public inquiry into his death. The British PM David Cameron has accepted that collusion took place and apologised to the family - but he refused to set up a public enquiry. Instead he set up a review of the evidence under the London lawyer Desmond de Silva.  

So what will the family get when the review reports on 12 December? Not what they asked for, that’s for sure. Cameron has appointed de Silva in the hope that people will be unwilling to criticise the report because it might be seen as criticism of de Silva. It won’t. The criticism of the report is and will be that it’s not a public inquiry. And it’s not a public inquiry because the British government is concerned that some very old skeletons might tumble out of the cupboard. 

I do hope the Finucanes refuse to be fobbed off with the de Silva report. I don’t think they will. 

Tim Pat Coogan and the visa that wasn't

Maybe it was the title that did it. Tim Pat Coogan,  historian and former editor of The Irish Press, has had his application for a visa to the United States turned down. He was due to do a book tour of the eastern states, including a lecture to the American Irish Historical Society, but that’s off now. The title of his book? The Famine Plot.

The Irish Famine, or more accurately the Great Hunger, is an event of enormous significance in Ireland’s history. And not just Ireland’s. Among the million or so who made their way to the United States in the mid-nineteenth century were the ancestors of John F Kennedy, and the Irish have left and continue to leave a deep imprint on American society (yes, Virginia, for good and bad). Even more important is the imprint that time left on the Irish psyche. There’s a kind of race memory that still carries the scars of what happened to the Irish people more than a century and a half ago. 

But like all history, the history of what happened in Ireland in the 1840s was written by the winners, at least as far as the general understanding of most people is concerned. What caused a million Irish people to die and another million to emigrate in coffin ships? “Because of over-reliance by the Irish on the potato crop. It failed, and the Famine happened”.  That’s true but it’s only half-true. Less well-implanted in public consciousness is the fact that food of all kinds went on being shipped out  of Ireland even as the people died on the roads and ditches of the country. Tony Blair apologised for Britain’s part in the Famine but he didn’t make clear what that part was. I haven’t read Coogan’s book but the title suggests that he’s pointing a finger at the action and inaction of the time which meant death for so many.. Maybe he  should have called it The Famine:  How the Irish Starved Themselves. 

Suffering - at home and abroad

We can’t feel sympathy for all the suffering in the world. There’s just too much of it and too little room in our heads and hearts. Despite that we do feel the pain of some, which is good.  Others we choose to ignore, which is less good. 

Take last week. A young Indian woman called Savita Halappanavar died in a Galway hospital. She was 17 weeks pregnant and she died, her husband said, because the doctors refused to perform an abortion to save her life. The grief of her husband, faced with the double tragedy of the loss of a spouse and child, is deep and dark. You can see why people took to the streets carrying placards saying ‘Ireland’s shame’.  You can see why Joe Duffy’s Liveline programme dealt with the question four days in a row. 

Five other women died on Sunday last.  Not in a hospital, where doctors and nurses, even in Galway,  strive to keep patients alive and restore them to health.  These five women died without doctor or nurse. They didn’t die alone - eight children died with them. And their deaths didn’t happen because someone in a hospital didn’t do the right thing. They died because bombs had been dropped on them by the Israeli air force. In recent days over a hundred Palestinians have been killed by Israeli fighter-bombers. 

No four-day Joe Duffy discussions for these people.  Newly-elected American president Barack Obama spoke about the Middle East deaths but he did it in a way similar to the way the Troubles here were once reported: from behind police or British army lines.  So Obama chose to speak of the conflict in the Middle East but it was suffering of Israel, subject to rocket attacks from the Gaza strip, that he drew attention to. He didn’t mention the names of the Palestinian women who died. He probably didn’t know them. Neither do I.

There’s a reason for this selective sympathy. Savita Halappanavar was an individual about whom we learnt a lot. We saw her picture, we heard from her husband, we watched a spokesman for the Indian government speak critically of what had happened. All around the world, newspapers carried headlines painting Ireland as the country  which let a helpless woman die. She was an individual.

The Palestinians - they’re just an amorphous mass. Uneducated, excitable, far away. And so Barack Obama presents the situation as one where Israel, surrounded by enemies, must strike out in self-defence, and most of us accept that. We think of what the Jews suffered at the hands of the Nazis and, squashing a sense of uneasiness, we sympathise with Israel.

The United States sympathises with Israel too. In fact it goes beyond sympathy. Between 1996 and 2006, Israel was given $24 billion in financial military aid by the US. In August 2007, a new Memorandum of Understanding was signed between the two countries, guaranteeing Israel $30 billion in military aid over the next ten years. Americans, you might say, have put and are putting their money where their mouth is. Just as the Jews were incarcerated in concentration camps, so the Palestinians are virtual prisoners on the Gaza strip: a piece of land 25 miles long and some 5 miles wide is home to 1.7 million people.  It’s on these cooped-up people that the Israelis drop bomb after bomb. 

Several decades ago, Christy Moore sang a song about the American role in the assassination of Chile’s president,  Dr Salvador Allende.

“It’s a long way from the heartlands

To Santiago Bay

Where the good doctor lies 

With blood in his eyes

And the bullets read ‘US of A’ “

In Gaza today, you don’t have to alter too many words to hear the same old song. 

Ann Travers, whataboutery and unique pain

David Dunseith was a man I had not just respect but affection for. He somehow caught all the political bits of mud that people slung at him and each other, and made out of them a forum in which people could maybe think again about things, could set aside or at least put on hold the fierce loyalties or prejudices or pain that they brought to his Talkback programme. However, there was one term David used which I think was misleading and sometimes diminished the  case a caller was presenting. The term was whataboutery.  You’re claiming A, but what about B. Or C or D or Z? David had no time for whataboutery.  

I think whataboutery is important, or certainly can be. For example, when the media and everyone else was weighing into the Catholic Church for the sexual horrors some of its clergy were guilty of, and the cover-up that followed those crimes, no one said “What about other sections of society? What about the BBC, and care homes, and even within families?” As a result, the horrors of society were piled on one back and all other backs apparently didn’t exist. How stupid and short-sighted that was is now becoming slowly and painfully evident. 

Which brings us - yet again - to the death of Mary Travers. Yes, call it murder by all means, if that’s how you see it and if it helps us focus on the point. Mary Travers’s sister Ann was on TV during the week and it would have taken a heart of flint not to feel for her.  Trying to cope with cancer, trying to cope with the loss of her sister in horrific circumstances, trying to get what she believes is justice in an unjust world: it seems like too much to heap on one frail back. 

But then, on Good Morning Ulster I think it was,  Jude Whyte rang in. His mother was killed - yes, call it that if you wish, or murdered - in the same year, in the same time-period as Mary Travers died.  Mrs Whyte was killed at her own front door by UVF people, probably with state collusion. Whyte still feels the loss of his mother - who wouldn’t? But his point on Radio Ulster/Raidio Uladh was that there are hundreds of cases like his and Ann Travers - hundreds of people grieving for a face and a hand and a voice that will never come back. But that the way we’ve stopped these losses is by coming to an Agreement that, while it’s more than difficult for victims - all victims - to accept, it’s what we’ve agreed on and that’s the price we pay for a fragile peace.  

I’m reading a booklet at the moment called The Pitchfork Murders. It’s about two young men - more boys, really - who were killed by a loyalist gang, again most likely with state collusion. It’s called The Pitchfork Murders because, initially, it was thought the two young men had been killed with a pitchfork. In fact both died by repeated stabbing with a 6” Bowie knife. There were no signs of resistance from either of the two, which suggests they were held by others while the killer stabbed again and again. One of the pair had wounds on his back and front, suggesting the killer stabbed him first in the front and then had him turned over, like an animal on a spit, so he could be stabbed on the other side. The killers have never been brought to justice; the state has never conceded involvement. 

There are hundreds of people out there bearing the kind of grief that came to eat into the relatives of those killed in the Pitchfork Murders,  the relatives of Mrs  Whyte, the relatives of Ann Travers. It’s not to take away from Ann Travers’s pain to say that she hasn’t the right to seek personal, unique terms of punishment for the woman who was involved in her sister’s death - yes, her sister’s murder, if you want to call it that. The woman involved in the death of her sister served time in prison, like hundreds of others, for what she’d done. And she was released under the terms of the Good Friday Agreement. And the GFA said nothing about released prisoners not being allowed to be advisers to politicians in Stormont. If anything, the situation of released prisoners deserves thoughtful and sympathetic consideration, to help re-integrate them into society, rather than place further restrictions on their lives. And that’s all prisoners. 

So what am I saying in a long-winded way? That Jude Whyte is right. The only way forward is for all who have suffered to move on, accept the terms under which agreement was reached, and stop claiming that his or her grief is unique. What about all the other victims and their grief? Each and every one is equally unique.