THE OUTLOOK OF EIRE

By ALEXANDER DUFF

TRAVELLING along an Irish country road the other day, I noticed two cars immediately ahead, proceeding in the same direction as mine. My Irish companion nudged me. "Dev. is in the first of those cars," he said. "And what about the second? " I asked. " That's filled with plain-clothes men," he replied, " and a machine-gun." The reference to a machine-gun was casual enough, yet it changed the whole atmosphere. In an instant one became acutely conscious that this was Eire. With a feeling almost of guilt one sensed that the armed men in front were speculating over our intentions. Would it be wise for us to overtake the two cars, or were we expected to stay behind them at a respectful distance? After debating the point we decided not to pass. But the two cars were doing no more than twenty miles an hour, and it was borne in upon us that our dilatoriness might be interpreted suspiciously. Therefore, we quickened our speed, fully aware as we passed the detectives that several pairs of eyes were closely scrutinising us. The whole occurrence was a trifling one, yet nothing could have emphasised more clearly the gulf that separates the English outlook from the Irish.

Half an hour later I found myself listening to Mr. de Valera addressing some of his fellow countrymen. They were for the most part small farmers, and they had come to hear him in this little country-town. Nobody seemed to regard the meeting-place as incongruous, although actually it was the local police-court- or court-house. Some of the men smoked their pipes and wore their hats. Womenfolk gazed with critical interest at each fresh arrival in the court, very obviously determined not to miss any- thing that might provide them subsequently with gossip. There was no scandalised protest from attendant police as members of the audience found accommodation in seats that normally are reserved for solicitors or officials. Even the witness-stands were occupied. I had a place in the jury box. A priest and two other people sat unconcerned in the dock, resting their arms on the rails. And Mr. de Valera -went on the magistrates' bench. A solemn, long-faced man, tall, but not quite so slim as when I saw him last, he spoke quietly, with his hands plunged deep into the Pockets of his heavy dark overcoat of rough texture. He wore' big circular spectacles with narrow steel rims, and seemed to have overcome the eye-trouble that used to cause him considerable anxiety. There was no saving touch of humour in his earnest speech, and for half an hour he went on fluently without a single note.

But it appeared to be significant of much that is happening in Eire today that he should have found it necessary, at this late wage of the proceedings, to explain so carefully to his people that a great war was in progress in the rest of the world. For

one is afraid that far too many of them fail even yet to realise the peril of their position, and the meaning of the things that are going on outside their country. Up to now there has been an abundance of good food, and a freedom from distractions like the blackout. It is true that brown bread is said to be the only wheaten fare baked in Eire, but you can always get white if you pay for it. Tea may be rationed to half an ounce for each person per week, but the black market will supply you with extra quantities as readily as extra petrol.

One of the commonest remarks I heard during about a fort- night's stay was, "Why should we give up our neutrality? We should be fools if we did."

" But," you protest, " isn't that rather like living in a fool's paradise? Are you not afraid of invasion? "

"Not a bit," comes the ready answer. " While the British Navy is about there is not likely to be'any serious danger from the sea. And if the Germans come instead by air, where do you imagine they will be able to obtain petrol-supplies? Ours would soon be exhausted, and what could the Germans do then? "

Briefly you indicate that a number of uncomfortable things' could happen, and you go on to inquire whether neighbourliness plays any part in their calculations.

" No ; not with Britain. You are simply a foreign State to us. Why should we give you preference over Germany or Italy, or any other foreign country? We are an independent nation, and we have the right to decide for ourselves on the action we think fit in a war of this kind. We decline to allow any other country to interfere."

"Germany, with all her strength, might think otherwise." " That wouldn't prevent us from fighting them."

"—and being overwhelmed. Why not accept the friendly help of Britain? "

"Because that would bring us into a war we don't *.'ant. We have no wish to see Dublin or Cork flattened by bombs. We simply want to go on living in peace. We believe we can do that by remaining strictly neutral."

" So did Norway, Holland, and other neutrals. Would it not be more natural, in view of the ties that exist, to let Britain man the ports and airfields, and provide you at the same time with adequate defence? "

"' Adequate defence ' didn't prevent London and all the other cities in your country from being bombed."

"No, but it did prevent us from being invaded and conquered. What can you hope to do with a tiny population that is less than half that of London? "

"Quite a lot, with a force of 200,000 men determined to fight for their country's liberty."

Without sufficient arms? "

" Well, that could be remedied by England without bringing us into war. You could supply us with the guns, the tanks, the aeroplanes, and all the rest. We have the men to handle them. That would be to your advantage, because it would save your providing a lot of troops, and to our benefit because we should preserve our neutrality."

" A delightful arrangement—for you. And we should have to go being denied the ports and airfields that we ought to be using against the common enemy."

" Pardon me ; we have no common enemy. We are neutral."

I think that conversation is a fair summary of the views that are being expressed in Eire today in justification of the comfort- able policy of neutrality. But as the expression of a nation's will it is valueless. The simple fact is that the chief exponents of the policy, headed by Mr. de Valera, refuse to tolerate any contrary opinion. Through the agency of one of the most rigorous censorships in Europe all home critics of Irish neutrality have been compulsorily silenced. They are not allowed to utter a word of protest in the Irish newspapers, on the radio, on the platform, on the films, or in the churches. The people of Eire are no longer permitted to judge for themselves ; they are re- quired to let a few men do it for them, or suffer severe penalties. No newspaper may run the risk of indulging in the slightest comment unfavourable to neutrality without facing immediate suppression. That is how Eire is living today.