20 November 1997 Edition
Television: Shoot to kill in Kerry
By Sean O'Donaile
Coming to terms with our past has never been easy for us Irish especially with our colonial heritage and the cloud of self censorship permanently hovering, but last week's RTE documentary Ballyseedy was a serious attempt to honestly address the trauma of the Civil War.
This documentary proved what we always believed to be true - the Free State government operated a ``shoot to kill'' policy long before the RUC ever made the term famous.
Presented by Pat Butler and five years in the making, Ballyseedy combined a mix of acting, narration and interviews with survivors, witnesses and historians, which although too lengthy, took us step by step through the events in North Kerry of August 1923.
``Romantic Nationalism'' inspired Liam Lynch and fellow Republicans to attack; ``mandated'' Staters were driven by ``pragmatic ideals'' in republican strongholds in South Munster. These labels are as usual erroneous but are an issue for another programme.
In an effort to flush Humphrey Murphy, Ger O'Leary and others from the hills of North Kerry the ``ruthless'' and ``war hardened'' Paddy O'Daly was sent with his crack troops to Tralee. O'Daly employed Castlereagh-style tactics, frequently torturing locals and put North Kerry under martial law. Local no-good Paddy ``Pats'' O'Connor was a divil for the auld torture and was subsequently lured to his death in an elaborate trap, which led to a landmine in Knocknagoshel where he and four others were blown to pieces.
O'Daly's response was to murder 17 Republicans, including eight men blown up by a landmine in Ballyseedy. The programme unearthed previously unpublished memoirs of Free State soldier Niall Harrington, who describes men being selected on the basis of local geography and whether they were related to clergy; having their fingers sledgehammered by drunken soldiers and then taken to Ballyseedy; tied in a circle and blown up; those who survived were eliminated with machine gun fire.
Incredibly Stephen Fuller was blown to safety and lived to tell the tale, later becoming a TD and retold his account here along with witnesses who describe ``the birds eating flesh off the trees.''
In a shocking parallel of Bloody Sunday the government instigated a sham ``Widgery-style'' Tribunal which O'Daly sat on. Following this Minister Richard Mulcahy was ``quite satisfied'' with the findings and Cosgrave's government tidied up the mess by destroying all their records upon leaving office in 1932. What's that about a good master teaching a dog his tricks?
Speaking of the British army, I subjected myself to forty minutes of drivel on BBC 2's Back To The Floor, where Lieutenant Sir General Hugh Pyke, commander of 130,000 odd Brits, who obviously missed the fun and games, spent a week ``back with the boys'' playing Cowboys and Indians. Sir Hugh had a jolly old time taking part in a mock battle, which was all ``fiendishly complicated'' and he told us ``if you get hit you're out of the game and have to play dead''.
Why some one would want to get up at half-four in the morning to roll around in the muck is beyond me, unless you still think you're that guy in The Victor throwing the grenade and saying ``Chew a pineapple Fritz'' or ``Die you evil Jap''. There was much ``rat-tat-tat-tat'' and ``pow-pow!'' and the battle was followed by a cuppa tea and a few E's off camera.
Soldiers aired some of their grievances, including low pay, poor clothing and facilities, but failed to realise they were the pawns in Mr Pyke's war-games. And someone should have told them to wash their faces and take the grass out of their hats.
The unfortunate thing is, Pyke and friends are bankrolled to play these games for real in Belfast and Baghdad, where he informed us ``we don't want a fair fight'' - are you listening Lee Clegg? The only surprising comment to come from this drivel was that British soldiers are ``nowadays far more educated and sophisticated''. Remember that the next time you're asked to spell ``Mr''.
Not quite as threatening but equally baffling are some of the beliefs held by The Jehovah's Witnesses, seen on Channel 4's ``Cutting Edge''. I hope I'm not offending any Sinn Féin Jehovah's here, but if you're in both you're mixed up, and if you're reading this you should be reading your Bible.
Then again, we have a lot in common. We both go knocking on doors, selling papers and canvassing, except the only people who wear suits when Shinners go walkabout are the Branchmen. And I'll bet they don't get called as many names.
They also have Ardhfeiseanna but call them Conventions and they can't sing the Broad Black Brimmer or go to Shebeens afterwards!
And their Volunteers wear white shirts and don't have wooly faces.
Both of us believe ``Our day is coming'' but if ``Armageddon'' comes before ``Ar La'', we better start going to confession. The Jehovah's believe that ``Satan is in charge'' and to blame for all wrongdoing, while we just blame the Brits.
On a more serious note, they seem to resemble the Catholic Church of yesteryear, with a strict adherence to moral codes, and a pessimistic outlook - ``the world really is a bad place''.
Their structure is also similar to Rome's with control being held by middle aged men called elders. Maritza and Matthew, an engaged couple, are not permitted by the elders to spend time alone indoors, in case of temptation, so every evening this adult couple have tea and biccies in their car in the driveway - they obviously never heard of haybarns.
In fairness, their faith gives them peace of mind and they are more than polite, but questions like distribution of wealth etc don't enter the equation. As for me, I don't have enough white shirts and anyway, putting up posters in the rain is infinitely more appealing.
Coming to terms with our past has never been easy for us Irish especially with our colonial heritage and the cloud of self censorship permanently hovering, but last week's RTE documentary Ballyseedy was a serious attempt to honestly address the trauma of the Civil War.
This documentary proved what we always believed to be true - the Free State government operated a ``shoot to kill'' policy long before the RUC ever made the term famous.
Presented by Pat Butler and five years in the making, Ballyseedy combined a mix of acting, narration and interviews with survivors, witnesses and historians, which although too lengthy, took us step by step through the events in North Kerry of August 1923.
``Romantic Nationalism'' inspired Liam Lynch and fellow Republicans to attack; ``mandated'' Staters were driven by ``pragmatic ideals'' in republican strongholds in South Munster. These labels are as usual erroneous but are an issue for another programme.
In an effort to flush Humphrey Murphy, Ger O'Leary and others from the hills of North Kerry the ``ruthless'' and ``war hardened'' Paddy O'Daly was sent with his crack troops to Tralee. O'Daly employed Castlereagh-style tactics, frequently torturing locals and put North Kerry under martial law. Local no-good Paddy ``Pats'' O'Connor was a divil for the auld torture and was subsequently lured to his death in an elaborate trap, which led to a landmine in Knocknagoshel where he and four others were blown to pieces.
O'Daly's response was to murder 17 Republicans, including eight men blown up by a landmine in Ballyseedy. The programme unearthed previously unpublished memoirs of Free State soldier Niall Harrington, who describes men being selected on the basis of local geography and whether they were related to clergy; having their fingers sledgehammered by drunken soldiers and then taken to Ballyseedy; tied in a circle and blown up; those who survived were eliminated with machine gun fire.
Incredibly Stephen Fuller was blown to safety and lived to tell the tale, later becoming a TD and retold his account here along with witnesses who describe ``the birds eating flesh off the trees.''
In a shocking parallel of Bloody Sunday the government instigated a sham ``Widgery-style'' Tribunal which O'Daly sat on. Following this Minister Richard Mulcahy was ``quite satisfied'' with the findings and Cosgrave's government tidied up the mess by destroying all their records upon leaving office in 1932. What's that about a good master teaching a dog his tricks?
Speaking of the British army, I subjected myself to forty minutes of drivel on BBC 2's Back To The Floor, where Lieutenant Sir General Hugh Pyke, commander of 130,000 odd Brits, who obviously missed the fun and games, spent a week ``back with the boys'' playing Cowboys and Indians. Sir Hugh had a jolly old time taking part in a mock battle, which was all ``fiendishly complicated'' and he told us ``if you get hit you're out of the game and have to play dead''.
Why some one would want to get up at half-four in the morning to roll around in the muck is beyond me, unless you still think you're that guy in The Victor throwing the grenade and saying ``Chew a pineapple Fritz'' or ``Die you evil Jap''. There was much ``rat-tat-tat-tat'' and ``pow-pow!'' and the battle was followed by a cuppa tea and a few E's off camera.
Soldiers aired some of their grievances, including low pay, poor clothing and facilities, but failed to realise they were the pawns in Mr Pyke's war-games. And someone should have told them to wash their faces and take the grass out of their hats.
The unfortunate thing is, Pyke and friends are bankrolled to play these games for real in Belfast and Baghdad, where he informed us ``we don't want a fair fight'' - are you listening Lee Clegg? The only surprising comment to come from this drivel was that British soldiers are ``nowadays far more educated and sophisticated''. Remember that the next time you're asked to spell ``Mr''.
Not quite as threatening but equally baffling are some of the beliefs held by The Jehovah's Witnesses, seen on Channel 4's ``Cutting Edge''. I hope I'm not offending any Sinn Féin Jehovah's here, but if you're in both you're mixed up, and if you're reading this you should be reading your Bible.
Then again, we have a lot in common. We both go knocking on doors, selling papers and canvassing, except the only people who wear suits when Shinners go walkabout are the Branchmen. And I'll bet they don't get called as many names.
They also have Ardhfeiseanna but call them Conventions and they can't sing the Broad Black Brimmer or go to Shebeens afterwards!
And their Volunteers wear white shirts and don't have wooly faces.
Both of us believe ``Our day is coming'' but if ``Armageddon'' comes before ``Ar La'', we better start going to confession. The Jehovah's believe that ``Satan is in charge'' and to blame for all wrongdoing, while we just blame the Brits.
On a more serious note, they seem to resemble the Catholic Church of yesteryear, with a strict adherence to moral codes, and a pessimistic outlook - ``the world really is a bad place''.
Their structure is also similar to Rome's with control being held by middle aged men called elders. Maritza and Matthew, an engaged couple, are not permitted by the elders to spend time alone indoors, in case of temptation, so every evening this adult couple have tea and biccies in their car in the driveway - they obviously never heard of haybarns.
In fairness, their faith gives them peace of mind and they are more than polite, but questions like distribution of wealth etc don't enter the equation. As for me, I don't have enough white shirts and anyway, putting up posters in the rain is infinitely more appealing.