A day in Dublin
Mícheál MacDonncha visited some contrasting political events in
Dublin last Saturday
It is impossible to know anything of Irish history and not be
conscious of the ironies and echoes which fill Dublin Castle. The
centre of British rule in Ireland for nearly 800 years, the
Castle has hidden behind its walls the corruption of tyrants, the
torture and execution of patriots, the nerve centre of a spy
system reaching into every parish.
Under the Free State the concealing walls were needed more than
ever to hide the shame of a regime which took down the British
flag but kept their methods. The Special Branch was based here
until the 1980s.
In Dublin Castle the day after the referenda the stage was set
for yet another `historic occasion'. The Castle was opened to the
world's media - or at least to that part of it which was not in
Belfast. Satellite dishes and TV cables abounded as camera crews
and presenters practised their ``pieces to camera'' on the lawn. A
straggle of politicians hung around. The sense of history should
have been even keener yet the scene in the Castle was strangely
subdued.
Perhaps it was because the enormity of it all was too much to
grasp, a new phase beginning in Irish politics, the tentative
start to a resolution to 30 years of conflict. Perhaps it was
because a referendum lacks the excitement of an election with the
personal fate of people you know being decided by the last few
transfers and a government hanging on the thread of a marginal
constituency. Whatever the reason, it was obvious that history
was not here. It had been made the day before in thousands of
ballot boxes throughout the 32 Counties.
I left the Castle and went to Glasnevin Cemetery. The contrast
could not have been greater. Gathered around the grave of Martin
Doherty were family and friends and comrades of the man who had
lost his life because he saved others.
He was honoured then, as he is honoured now, among his own. Slain
by loyalist gunmen who had intended to blow up a pub full of
people a few months before the IRA cessation of 1994, this
Volunteer holds a special place in the hearts of Dublin
republicans.
His people are the ordinary people of Dublin - a world away from
the media up at the Castle.
A couple of hours later, once the final results were known,
Bertie Ahern addressed a press conference in the Castle. ``Doesn't
this mark the death of traditional Irish nationalism'' asked Irish
Times columnist Fintan O'Toole, a man who has been writing the
obituary of nationalism for many years now. When will he and
those like him realise that if anything has been clear from this
peace process it is that nationalism and republicanism are
vibrant forces in Irish politics. They survived years of attempts
to suppress them in the 26 Counties. O'Toole did not notice the
presence in the room of a namesake - Larry O'Toole who was shot a
week before.
In dark days before the peace process Larry, in a famous court
case, challenged Section 31 censorship and won. He paved the way
for the free debate which allowed the peace process to blossom.
It is hard to imagine now how grim things were when Section 31
was in force. It was a state in denial as whole communities were
shut off in darkness. Public ignorance was cultivated in order to
facilitate political opportunism. But Section 31 is now long
consigned to the dustbin of history.
On Saturday evening I accompanied Caoimhghín O Caoláin to RTE
where he appeared on Prime Time with Mary O'Rourke, Ruairi Quinn,
John Bruton and Anthony Coughlan. We've only had four years to
counter the effects of over 20 years of Section 31 but we're
getting there.
The powerful in our society are still determined to keep many
commmunities in darkness, even though they have unbanned some of
their representatives from the airwaves. Dublin communities
ravaged by drugs, like nationalists in the Six Counties, have
suffered death and destruction, censorship and marginalisation
but they are fighters and survivors and they have spirit.
A memorable Saturday ended with a social gathering organised by
the Coalition of Communitries Against Drugs. Up and coming Dublin
band Duffel rocked into the small hours and the hundreds in the
Temple Theatre rose to their feet as Larry and Ann O'Toole were
brought on stage. Having faced death at the hands of a crazed
gunman in a Ballymun church a week ago here was Larry thanking
his friends in the anti-drugs movement and in Sinn Féin for the
support they gave him and his family in the most traumatic week
of their lives.
Someone that day had re-christened him `Lazarus' but it could be
a nickname for a struggle that has made more than one dramatic
recovery.
History? Just make it.
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