Civility, emotion reign in U.S. debates

By Ray O’Hanlon

CARLSTADT, N.J. – The speaker was going at it hard. There was a loud roar. Clearly of the tribal variety. But it wasn’t coming from this crowd. Not that the speaker would have objected to a few hoots and cheers. After all, this evening’s debate was about the fate of dear old Ireland – again.

The roar was coming from the bar adjoining the packed dining room. Behind lines of beer glasses, New Jersey folk were roaring on the Indiana Pacers, about to do in the locally scorned New York Knicks. Sport and politics weren’t mixing tonight. But they were intimately aware of each other’s presence. Soon, there was a burst of loud applause in the seated Irish crowd. One or two heads were turning in the bar. Where had the Knick fans come from? All night long there would be moments of such confusion – cheers and applause erupting, seemingly out of nowhere and seemingly for no reason.

The debate at the Grasshopper bar and restaurant in Carlstadt, N.J., last Wednesday evening was an event charged with emotion. As had been the case so many times before when partitioned Ireland was the subject, old friends found themselves on opposite sides of the argument. It would be, at times, a tense affair, but one staged within the rules of reason and accepted political discourse. Your opinions can sharply diverge but you don’t have to split.

Those who had left the comfort of home to navigate the tortuous Garden State highway system had come to hear at firsthand how Irish history would be ironed out in the coming days, weeks and years. For the locals, it wasn’t such a big deal. For the visiting New Yorkers, though, it was another example of a law of cosmic physics, one that states that you will get lost at least once should you dare cross the Hudson River.

Six speakers were listed for the evening in the Grasshopper’s dining room. The debate, put together at short notice by a coalition of Irish-American groups and chaired by human rights attorney Ed Lynch, featured three speakers in favor of the Good Friday-signed peace agreement and three against. The three speakers in the no corner were Irish American, while the yes trio comprised a Kerryman who had served time as an IRA gunrunner, a British-born lawyer, and a Unionist from Northern Ireland – an international pan-yes front.

Martin Ferris, a member of the Sinn FTin ard comhairle who had served a decade in jail for his part in the 1984 Valhalla/Marita Ann arms smuggling affair, was passionate in his defense of Sinn Fein’s leadership, its judgment and the view that the peace accord was only a phase in the continued struggle to rid Ireland of the British presence.

The Belfast Agreement was not a settlement, he said, but a vehicle that could, in time, bring about a settlement. And while it was difficult for republicans to accept, it posed even greater problems for Unionists.

The agreement, he said, was indeed a deal fraught with risk, but the alternative was too cruel to think about.

It was easy to say no, Ferris told the attentive listeners. But it took courage to give leadership. The struggle was not over and would continue until British troops and the British government were gone and there was a united Ireland.

“We view this document as transitional,” Ferris said. Sinn FTin would not settle for injustice, inequality and the British presence in Ireland.

Richard Harvey, the British-born lawyer and veteran of Irish-American efforts to secure human rights reform in Northern Ireland, was of similar mind. The right of the Irish people to self-determination could only be won by force of argument, Harvey said. The peace agreement would provide the needed space for hope and argument to develop. In a short time, he said, Sinn FTin would be the majority Nationalist party in the North.

Bill McGimpsey, whose forthright Unionism is respected even in greenest New York, picked his target and let rip. Not too long ago Gerry Adams might have been the object of his ire, but not tonight. McGimpsey let fly at Eamon de Valera and his 1937 Constitution, which, he argued, had been disastrous for the Protestants of the Irish South. Indeed, McGimpsey argued, de Valera had moved Ireland in a direction that had made Irish unification “virtually impossible.”

A prime issue in the Grasshopper debate was the fate of Articles Two and Three of Dev’s constitution. McGimpsey contended that these had been merely a sop thrown to Northern Catholics who had in fact been left high and dry by de Valera.

Getting rid of the articles would be a generous gesture to the people of Northern Ireland. The only answer people should give to the questions posed by the referenda on both sides of the border was, in McGimpsey’s view, a yes vote.

McGimpsey’s view underlined something of the varying emphasis in the “Yes” camp. While he himself was against Articles Two and Three per se, Ferris, reflecting Sinn FTin’s unfamiliar and somewhat awkward position, spoke only in very reluctant favor of their demise.

The naysayers

Arrayed against the yes side were Jean Forest, a human rights activist and primary force behind the locally sprung U.S. Voice for Human Rights in Northern Ireland; John McDonagh, host of the weekly “Radio Free Eireann” show over WBAI, and Martin Galvin, for many years the public face of Irish Northern Aid but more recently a largely independent voice and attorney for the “deportees,” several of whom were present at the debate.

Galvin, to not a few in the audience, was the most forceful speaker of the evening. Fiery and loud, he gave the Knicks/Pacers game a run for its money in terms of cut and thrust.

The first principle of republicanism, if it existed anywhere, existed in Articles Two and Three, he said. The document being presented to voters in Ireland gave up that principle, Galvin bellowed to cheers and applause.

“The articles establish Irish sovereignty and this document throws them out,” he said.

Galvin, attorney by day, invoked the spirits of Pearse and Connolly while leaning heavily on the language of international law. Once the articles were gone, he argued, the British would always point to that fact that Ireland had given up its sovereignty claim on the North under international law.

The Treaty, Galvin said, had once been described as a steppingstone, but what had followed was 80 years of oppression. Galvin’s deep suspicion of British motives was palpable. Where in 800 years, he asked rhetorically, had the British ever displayed any sign that they would play a positive role in the quest for a united Ireland?

“It’s not easy for me to stand here and say the agreement is wrong,” Galvin said. “It would be easy to remain silent, but ladies and gentlemen, this agreement is wrong.”

McDonagh described the accord as a “new partitionist agreement.” People who opposed it would be called warmongers and demonized in the media. The Stormont Assembly, he said, would turn into a debacle for Nationalists and Republicans because a 60 percent vote would be needed to get anything passed.

McDonagh attacked the U.S. government’s policy of visa denial against the likes of Republican Sinn FTin leader Ruairi O Bradaigh and Francie Mackey of the 32 County Sovereignty Committee. It was “unfortunate” they were being denied a chance to take part in the debate while Sinn FTin members “with records as long as your arm” could take part because they were in favor of the agreement.

Forest, whose work on behalf of individuals detained under dubious legal circumstances in Northern Ireland was the foundation of her speech, concentrated her doubts about the future in the area of human rights and policing.

There were currents supporting both sides running through the crowd, members of which closely questioned all the debate participants. One spectator, Mary O’Malley from nearby Clifton, N.J., was firmly against the agreement. Michael Collins could have cut a better deal, she said. She was worried that the “Dublin government would sell out the North again,” should the agreement be passed.

Charlie, who preferred to give only his first name, was sympathetic toward Sinn FTin. The party, he said, was damned if it did and damned if it didn’t in the context of the agreement. It had been put in a position where it had really no room for maneuver. Still, he himself was against the agreement. It was “just a restatement of the Unionist veto,” he said.

There were moments of raw emotion during the course of the almost three-hour debate, one being when Ferris introduced veteran Republican Joe Cahill, who had sat quietly in the front row as the argument flowed. Cahill, now 77, punched the air energetically with his fist. He was greeted with a roar that had nothing to do with the impending demise of the Knicks on the multiple television screens next door.

America’s $ay

Irish America, breast fed on the milk of first amendment free speech, has never been shy about bare-fisted debate. The Grasshopper exercise was a case in point. But despite all the talk, few could forget that Irish America is essentially a spectator to events in Ireland this week. Most here are voteless even if not precluded from casting long-distance opinion, agreement or invective.

But right after the voters of the entire island have their collective, if still divided, say, Irish America’s particular relevance will come storming back with the speed of an Indiana Pacer.

Gerry Adams is expected in New York next week. His visit is being built on two cornerstones: a keynote speech and a party fund-raiser. Sinn FTin needs money to propel its assembly election campaign. Whatever about debates in New Jersey hostelries, Irish America’s ultimate clout lies in its wallet. Sinn FTin will hear Irish America’s verdict on its profound new direction eventually, not so much in terms of yeas and nays but in dollars and cents.