Fighting the Empire – Dublin in the Revolutionary Years
Posted by Jim on April 19, 2018
AOH Home of the Brooklyn Irish
Baile na nGael
Sunday, September 13, 2026
Posted by Jim on April 19, 2018
Posted by Jim on

She said:
“Having failed to put forward any serious ideas for how to address Brexit, it appears that the British Government are now finally doing some planning, but for the one thing they promised to avoid. Instead of putting out job advertisements, the British Government should take some serious time to spell out clearly what form of Border they anticipate these employees to be guarding.
“The SDLP will not stand for any borders or barriers on this island. We will continue to fight to protect the rights and freedoms of people here.
“The apparent bar on Irish passport holders from applying for these jobs is however exclusionary and chilling, and likely to be in breach of fair employment guidance. All of us must question what other jobs or services are to be reserved for, as the Home Office has put it, those with “special allegiance to the Crown”? For the SDLP this is completely unacceptable. That’s why I have referred the actions of the British Government in relation to these jobs to the Equality Commission for investigation. Everyone should know that the hard won rights for all citizens of this island should not be compromised.”
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“Expert commentator on Northern Ireland, Brian Feeney, again provides essential reading for Members of Congress. In his own unique, plain-talking, style, his attached article exposes current British Government inadequacy.”—Fr. Sean McManus British move away from Good Friday Agreement is stupid and dangerous
Simon Coveney is going to have another “go” at persuading the British to agree to a British -Irish Inter-Governmental Conference (BIIGC)[*see explanation below] meeting when he meets the proconsul [NI Secretary of State] this week.
It’s alarming and depressing that the British have so far refused to agree to such a meeting because the present crisis in the institutions of the Good Friday Agreement is precisely the point of having the BIIGC as laid out in the British-Irish Agreement of 1998.
As that agreement states: ‘In recognition of the Irish government’s special interest in Northern Ireland and of the extent to which issues of mutual concern arise in relation to Northern Ireland there will be regular and frequent meetings of the Conference…’.
Leaving aside the collapse of institutions, you’d think the small matter of the Customs Union and Single Market might be of mutual concern. We learn also from a Fine Gael party meeting that in February when he met her, the taoiseach suggested to Theresa May that there should be the occasional joint Cabinet meeting like the French and Germans hold. No deal.
This pulling away from the Good Friday Agreement by the British is stupid, negligent and dangerous.
Partly, it’s at the behest of the DUP whose MPs and members want to maximize the separation between the UK and the Republic, and partly because this British government inherited the hands-off approach adopted by David Cameron from 2010 ably abetted by Enda Kenny.
The consequences of this drifting apart are there for all to see. As Senator Neale Richmond, Fine Gael spokesman on Brexit said at the weekend, David Davis’s ignorance about Irish politics is ‘shared by the whole House of Commons’. He added: ‘They do not understand Ireland. They do not know where the Border is. They do not know who the taoiseach is or where Sinn Féin is at.’
MPs who have no connection with Ireland have some excuse but not Davis who is allegedly negotiating the UK’s exit from the EU and thinks Varadkar is under the influence of Sinn Féin. There’s you thinking it was Fianna Fáil keeping him afloat.
Davis has done nothing to update himself since 2016 when he got the job. That year he didn’t know the Republic is independent and believed Britain could make a deal with Germany about cars. He’s never been to The Border. Dominic Cummings, former special adviser to Michael Gove, and Vote Leave guru, gave an explanation for Davis’s shortcomings. According to Cummings he’s ‘thick as mince, lazy as a toad and vain as Narcissus.’
It’s astonishing to see that no one in this British government realizes it might be in their interest both short and long term to act jointly with the Irish government in any capacity. You might have heard the vacuous interview the proconsul for the time being gave BBC on Friday. Obviously without a clue— about what to do next except listen to the DUP and keep the Irish government at bay— she dissembled on every question about steps to restore a devolved administration.
Is she refusing to agree to a meeting of the BIIGC because the DUP oppose it? No. She’s looking at all options. Oh, come on!
What about a ‘Shadow Assembly’ which the DUP want? Yes, if the parties want one.
Now folks this is a disgracefully slippery response. Even she must know Sinn Féin and the SDLP are adamantly opposed and will boycott a talking shop designed to keep DUP MLAs paid and scoffing subsidized food ad infinitum.
The correct answer is: “No. There is no provision in the Good Friday Agreement or the 1998 Northern Ireland Act for a Shadow Assembly. We are on the edge of legality as it is because we are required to call an election so we’re not going to compound irregularity by risking a challenge to the legality of inventing a talking shop.”
Anything except work out how to act jointly with Dublin which is the only way forward. Does this British government not know that without Dublin’s agreement there can be no deal in The North? That they’re obliged to consult Dublin anyway under the British-Irish Agreement? That the DUP will never bring the government down? That without Dublin there’s nothing?
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| Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five; Hardly a man is now alive Who remembers that famous day and year.He said to his friend, “If the British march By land or sea from the town to-night, Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch Of the North Church tower as a signal light,– One if by land, and two if by sea; And I on the opposite shore will be, Ready to ride and spread the alarm Through every Middlesex village and farm, For the country folk to be up and to arm.” Then he said “Good-night!” and with muffled oar Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, Just as the moon rose over the bay, Where swinging wide at her moorings lay The Somerset, British man-of-war; A phantom ship, with each mast and spar Across the moon like a prison bar, And a huge black hulk, that was magnified By its own reflection in the tide. Meanwhile, his friend through alley and street Wanders and watches, with eager ears, Till in the silence around him he hears The muster of men at the barrack door, The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet, And the measured tread of the grenadiers, Marching down to their boats on the shore. Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church, By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, To the belfry chamber overhead, And startled the pigeons from their perch On the sombre rafters, that round him made Masses and moving shapes of shade,– By the trembling ladder, steep and tall, To the highest window in the wall, Where he paused to listen and look down A moment on the roofs of the town And the moonlight flowing over all. Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead, In their night encampment on the hill, Wrapped in silence so deep and still That he could hear, like a sentinel’s tread, The watchful night-wind, as it went Creeping along from tent to tent, And seeming to whisper, “All is well!” A moment only he feels the spell Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread Of the lonely belfry and the dead; For suddenly all his thoughts are bent On a shadowy something far away, Where the river widens to meet the bay,– A line of black that bends and floats On the rising tide like a bridge of boats. Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. Now he patted his horse’s side, Now he gazed at the landscape far and near, Then, impetuous, stamped the earth, And turned and tightened his saddle girth; But mostly he watched with eager search The belfry tower of the Old North Church, As it rose above the graves on the hill, Lonely and spectral and sombre and still. And lo! as he looks, on the belfry’s height A glimmer, and then a gleam of light! He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight A second lamp in the belfry burns. A hurry of hoofs in a village street, A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet; That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light, The fate of a nation was riding that night; And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, Kindled the land into flame with its heat. He has left the village and mounted the steep, And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep, Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides; And under the alders that skirt its edge, Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge, Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides. It was twelve by the village clock When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. He heard the crowing of the cock, And the barking of the farmer’s dog, And felt the damp of the river fog, That rises after the sun goes down. It was one by the village clock, When he galloped into Lexington. He saw the gilded weathercock Swim in the moonlight as he passed, And the meeting-house windows, black and bare, Gaze at him with a spectral glare, As if they already stood aghast At the bloody work they would look upon. It was two by the village clock, When he came to the bridge in Concord town. He heard the bleating of the flock, And the twitter of birds among the trees, And felt the breath of the morning breeze Blowing over the meadow brown. And one was safe and asleep in his bed Who at the bridge would be first to fall, Who that day would be lying dead, Pierced by a British musket ball. You know the rest. In the books you have read How the British Regulars fired and fled,— How the farmers gave them ball for ball, > From behind each fence and farmyard wall, Chasing the redcoats down the lane, Then crossing the fields to emerge again Under the trees at the turn of the road, And only pausing to fire and load. So through the night rode Paul Revere; And so through the night went his cry of alarm To every Middlesex village and farm,— A cry of defiance, and not of fear, A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, And a word that shall echo for evermore! For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, Through all our history, to the last, In the hour of darkness and peril and need, The people will waken and listen to hear The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed, And the midnight message of Paul Revere. |
Posted by Jim on
April 18th
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