Cabbage soup
By Sean O'Donaile
For the first time in my life I've managed to stick
with one of my New Year's resolutions. I've been
surviving on a diet of cabbage soup, skimmed milk and
seaweed, in a desperate bid to shed my John Hume chins
and the Christmas pudding which seemed to have lodged
itself on the outside of my belly.
I was helped along the road to sensibility after
stewing over Cancer Wars, (Channel 4 - Sunday), which
detailed the highs and mostly lows of smoking since the
Third Reich, when scientists, in their drive to create
the Aryan race, first discovered the harmful effects of
cigarettes. Hitler was ahead of his time in banning
smoking from public places and German society was in
the process of taking on the Cancer Wars, when the
little business of conquering the world intervened and
the research was quickly buried by advancing Allies,
who shipped in 93,000 tonnes of tobacco to Germany in
1945.
Smoking was ``cool'' in post-war years, and it was the
thing to do whether you were swinging a hurl, a scythe,
or your partner in the ballroom. Janet Sachman was
``Miss Lucky Strike'' but her luck ran out a few thousand
packs later when she contracted lung cancer. Cigarette
consumption doubled in the States in ten years and
Britain and Ireland duly followed. There was little or
no research and cancer sufferers were treated with
similar disdain to that meted out to AIDs sufferers.
When British scientists attempted to publicise findings
on lung cancer, that august organ The Times rejected
them in favour of the tobacco companies, who had a
stranglehold over them.
It was only in the late `60s, when the average Yank was
puffing through 4,000 a year, that the link with ``the
big C'' was brought to public attention. Tobacco
companies continued to hide their own findings and
received complicit support from government sources and
it wasn't until 1971, when Nixon's $100m Cancer Act was
introduced, that the corner was turned. Unfortunately,
as smoking declines in the West, the people in the rest
of the globe are being ``sacrificed for the short term
gain of politicians and capitalists'' - surprise,
surprise!
So cast aside your twenty Regal, get up offa your bar
stool and get down to the Conway Mill for some of
Alsie's Cabbage soup!
There was further gloomy viewing on RTE's award
winning, but overly condensed, Divided World, which
focused on the plight of the Aborigines whose children
were forcibly taken from them and placed in permanent
foster care with ``more civilised folk (sic)'' right up
to the 1970s as part of Australian government policy.
Julie was one of the 100,000 or so taken at three weeks
to a white middle class suburb in Sydney, where she
grew up with ``nice folk''. At 32 she is one of many who
have now traced their families, and demand compensation
as part of the healing process.
Julie regards the treatment of Aborigines as an act of
genocide as they were robbed of their land, culture,
families and language. Unfortunately the One Nation
Party don't share their views and in a DUP style
speech, their leader expressed their exasperation at
listening to ``these moaners about equality'' and
socialist types who'd never do a day's work if you put
a shovel in their hand.
Fr Ray Bourgouis has to deal with such fascists at ``The
School of the Americas'' - a cover name for a training
camp for Latin America death squads, which he
permanently pickets in an attempt to persuade the US
government to close. The ``School'' has turned out most
of Latin America's worst death squads and dictators
over the last 40 years, and whose pictures adorn the
Hall of Fame.
Sgt McIvor delights in telling us that these graduates
have risen to ``lead'' their countries, putting the
torture techniques to good use along the path to
``democracy''. Poor Fr Bourgouis' only luxury is the good
weather and he regularly ends up in jail as a result of
his campaign of disobedience. Still, he could be stuck
with a banner on O'Connell Bridge on a windy day!
One can't but highlight the more humorous side to
Spotlight's focus on Long Kesh on BBC. Finlay Spratt,
head of The Prison Officers' Association, told us of
their plight ``feeling more like Redcoats in Butlins''
than real screws. Who can forget 1983, when Gerry
Kelly, Bik McFarlane and friends piled into their Fiat
Unos, twenty five at a time. Another suit told us of
the volunteers ``putting a great deal of work'' into
their tunnel, ``which wasn't just an exercise''.
Of course, it must be remembered that Finlay and his
friends' role in life is to sell a version of prison
life which will ensure them more money and jobs. And on
Spotlight they treated us to a star performance.
There were more exciting details of Liam Averill's drag
party, courtesy of An Phoblacht, and the poor screw who
told us of the rowdy Provos who wouldn't sit down in
the bus and ``I just couldn't count''!
Yet another suit ``couldn't believe that the prisoners
would use it as opportunity to escape'' and the harassed
Governor revealed to us that POWs spend their days on
``bouncy castles and Karaoke machines'', but he
re-assured us by stating that ``I didn't go on them''.
d we thought they spent their time doing jigsaws!
Don't mention the (Civil) War
The Madness from Within
The cult of Michael Collins has a lot to answer for. It
was rejuvinated by Neil Jordan's film, which, while
excellent in its portrayal of the war against the
British, distorted the Treaty debates and the Civil War
almost out of recognition. It is no longer fashionable
to go along with anti- nationalist historians such as
Roy Foster who refute the interpretation of Irish
history as essentially a struggle against colonialism.
Largely because of the cult of Collins it is now
officially hip again to hate the Black and Tans. But
you must still oppose the `Irregulars'.
Thus Tim Pat Coogan, the only non-revisionist historian
interviewed on The Madness from Within (RTE 1
Wednesday) might have been expected to provide some
balance. But instead his worship of Collins and deep
antipathy to de Valera meant that the republican case
against the Treaty was not articulated. Hailed as ``a
major documentary'' this programme was RTE's nod to the
75th anniversary of the Civil War.
Coming so soon after Pat Butler's outstanding
documentary on Ballyseedy it was a deep disappointment.
The main selling point of the programme was the
interviews with veterans from both sides of the Civil
War. These were interesting enough but none of the
interviewees were significant players and their
contributions were used only to illustrate the point
that feelings ran very deep and still do. True, but far
from enough to justify RTE's claim that the programme
was ``perhaps the first full account and analysis on
television of this troubled and taboo subject''.
Its account of events was piecemeal and its analysis
was biased. The real meat of the programme was the
pro-Free State interpretation, obviously influenced by
the two revisionist historians featured, Michael Laffan
and Tom Garvin.
The familiar line was trotted out - the Free Staters
were defending democracy, albeit by sometimes ruthless
means, while the republicans were crazed gunmen out to
set up a military dictatorship. There was absolutely no
analysis of the actual causes of the Civil War. The
Government of Ireland Act, the Treaty, the Dáil
debates, the lead-up to the start of the war, the role
of the British government in fomenting it - all were
omitted.
The programme was worth seeing principally for the
historic film footage; but the problem here was that it
was not contextualised. We were not told what was
happening.
At the press preview I made the point to presenter
Bryan Dobson that the Section 31 mentality in RTE for
years had prevented the making of programmes about
Irish history and many of the veterans who should have
been interviewed are now dead. He did not demur but
said that the main reason for avoiding the Civil War
was the unwillingess of veterans to talk.
But who had most to lose by talking? Uinseann MacEoin
filled a large volume (Survivors, 1980) with republican
Civil War veterans willing to speak. The Free Staters
had the political power to cover up their own actions
and the media on their side to slam the actions of the
republicans. As the Ballyseedy documentary showed they
had more to hide in the aftermath and it was clearly
those on the Free State side who said least in
subsequent years. This was no excuse for RTE not doing
their duty.
The balance now needs to be struck and perhaps in 1998
some film-maker will produce a documentary giving the
republican view. It might focus in particular on Liam
Mellows, the nearest the country came to producing a
successor to James Connolly in his understanding of the
interconnections between the national and the social
questions.
BY MICHEAL MacDONNCHA
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