NASTY BRITISH, NICE SINN FEIN
Mary Kenny is present at an occasion
attended by the strange mix that is Irish republicanism
WHEN I said I was going off to see Martin McGuinness deliver his oration over the grave of Wolfe Tone in Bodenstown, Co. Kildare last Sunday, one of my Dublin nieces said to me lightly, 'Oh, give him my love. He's gorgeous.' This is not an uncom- mon view held by young women of the Sinn Fein Mid-Ulster MP and former Pro- visional IRA leader. For all our modern talk about the rule of reason, it is the rule of television glamour, power and personal- ity that has the most primitive and essen- tial appeal. Martin McGuinness is 'as seen on TV', and is perceived as human, cuddly, nearly defenceless in the face of that mean Jeremy Paxman's harrying of the man. WHEN I said I was going off to see Martin McGuinness deliver his oration over the grave of Wolfe Tone in Bodenstown, Co. Kildare last Sunday, one of my Dublin nieces said to me lightly, 'Oh, give him my love. He's gorgeous.' This is not an uncom- mon view held by young women of the Sinn Fein Mid-Ulster MP and former Pro- visional IRA leader. For all our modern talk about the rule of reason, it is the rule of television glamour, power and personal- ity that has the most primitive and essen- tial appeal. Martin McGuinness is 'as seen on TV', and is perceived as human, cuddly, nearly defenceless in the face of that mean Jeremy Paxman's harrying of the man.
The Bodenstown annual pilgrimage to Wolfe Tone's grave — Tone is the father of Irish Republicanism, who died in 1798, by his own hand, after an abortive uprising — takes place in June. Republicans assemble in the nearby town of Sallins in Co. Kildare, and march to the grave site. The gathering of several thousand is com- posed of a strange mixture of ancient IRA relics from the 1930s, young Dublin bower boys with shaved heads, earrings and tattoos, a selection of overweight lon- ers usually described in America as trailer- park trash — the women in pink leggings, the men with huge bellies, the children dressed in bright orange anoraks bearing the legend 'Spice Girl Fever', a scattering of young families out for the day, female intellectuals dressed like suffragettes, and disciplined groups of young paramilitaries, girls and boys, generally from Northern Ireland. The most numerous and vocifer- ous of these youth groups come from South Armagh and the Crossmaglen area. These are les purs et les dures', march- ing in ranks, with drums and flutes, cheer- ing at intervals, `Eye-Are-Ay!' The girls, dressed up as green-and-black drum majorettes, seem to be chosen for their characteristics of 'strength and joy': hand- some, strong young lassies who could model for Stalinist social-realist art as a worker ideal.
When Martin McGuinness comes among the crowd, he does so as their star and their darling. He suddenly appears, quite formal- ly dressed in a tweed jacket and a bright clubman's tie; being rather thin — almost undernourished — his tweed coat hangs loosely on prematurely stooped shoulders. He is surrounded by people looking at him lovingly, admiringly, touching him, pressing him for autographs, wanting to have pic- tures taken with him, congratulating him on his new status as an MP. I saw a beard- ed older man shake McGuinness's hand with enthusiasm, and speak of his admira- tion, and when the man came away I asked him why he felt the way he did.
`I am an Englishman,' said the man, who then introduced himself as Roy Tassell, now living in Clonakilty, West Cork. 'I admire Martin McGuinness for trying to get his country back. I admire people who stand up for what they believe in and who stick their necks out.' But what about the violence, the killing, the murders for which Sinn Fein-IRA had so often been responsi- ble, most recently of two police officers in Lurgan? Mr Tassell shrugged his shoulders indifferently: 'They were carrying guns, weren't they? They knew what they were in for when they joined the police. I did my National Service as a young man. I had to. But men who join the army or the police today are volunteers.' The pictures of the weeping children at the grave of the RUC officers evoked no special pity from him. This was just part of any conflict.
Mr Tassell has a business in Clonakilty, and has developed a friendship with the local Sinn Fein councillor, Kenneth O'Sul- livan. Mr O'Sullivan had 'helped and sup- ported him' in every possible way, facilitating him in his business, advising him, and teaching him about Irish history: `I never learned any Irish history in Eng- land. I was shocked — shocked — by what I found out, and by what England did to Ireland. The famine, for example.' The Great Famine of 1845-50, whose 150th anniversary is being marked between 1995 and 2000, is often mentioned as a touch- stone of England's beastliness to Ireland. A young Dublin lad, Declan, told me he became interested in Sinn Fein politics when he saw something on television about the famine. Television, of course (like some history books), does not deal in nuances and complexities, of which the events of the famine are full. Television sends simple messages, and the simple message it sends about the famine is that the English were cruel and the Irish were their victims.
Yet Roy Tassell, who originally comes from Rochester in Kent, has also found, in his involvement with Sinn Fein, new friends, new interests, a new community and, in his sixties, a fresh start in life. His business in West Cork — he is an industri- al model-maker — is thriving, too, and everyone in the community is 'wonderful' to him. The Sinn Fein people are 'very, very nice'. Shaking Martin McGuinness's hand made his day.
Orations at graves are very significant Irish republican occasions. Joe Cahill, a veteran IRA fighter, introduced the pro- ceedings — he may come from the age of De Valera, but he now uses the language of the politically correct, referring carefully `You've reduced her to tears!' to 'chairpersons', and to spouses as 'part- ners'. The chairperson of the events was Joan O'Connor, a purposeful young woman who had the air of a head teacher. The new Sinn Fein TD — the first to enter the Dail in 40 years — Caoimhghin 0 Caolain (Kevin Keelan) spoke about the new dawn that his victory represented, 'the Irish dream of justice and peace', to many cheers. And then Martin McGuinness, flanked silently by Gerry Adams, gave his keynote address. He had reacted almost shyly, his face colouring a self-conscious pink, when pressed for autographs, but on the platform he was confident and sure of himself.
It was a very clever address, and some- one should brief Tony Blair in detail about the kind of strategy that brings Sinn Fein its steady advance: 'We are in good heart. We are in good shape. And in 15 years of fighting elections we have the biggest mandate we have had for years. Sinn Fein is vibrant. Sinn Fein is confident.' McGuinness gave a qualified welcome to Tony Blair's administration. It was an improvement on the John Major adminis- tration which had brought the peace pro- cess to an end, he said. (This is now an article of faith propounded by all Sinn Fein members: the 'peace process' was ended by John Major's refusal to 'take it forward'.) The 'tragedies' that had occurred — including Lurgan — were unfortunately the outcome of the British government's dogged persistence in putting obstacles in the way of Sinn Fein, McGuin- ness went on. Decommissioning before talks was out.
What Martin McGuinness was saying (to rousing cheers) was that Tony Blair, and Mo Mowlam, being more naive and more full of tosh about the rule of reason and compromise, were at this point more amenable to Sinn Fein's strategy. Sinn Fein's strategy, after all, was aimed at peace, and their conditions were equality and inclusiveness. 'The obstacles to this were put in the path by the British govern- ment,' he said. But things were moving for- ward.
Tony Blair's face, when he heard of the Lurgan murders, was a picture of wounded disappointment. Why, he had opened the door to Sinn Fein on the grounds that they had kept the peace. But Mr Blair will expe- rience many more occasions of disappoint- ment, as Ms Mowlam will go to many more funerals, before they learn the old, old les- son: Sinn Fein have been doing what they do for a very long time. They are very com- mitted, very purposeful, very certain of what they want — which is, simply, victory; and it is that will to power, that sense of purpose and certainty, which makes young people exclaim of Martin McGuinness that he is gorgeous, and causes older men to shake him so warmly by the hand.
Previous page
