Last Saturday was an interesting day for me. I travelled on the Enterprise train from Belfast to Dublin. Even though two extra trains were laid on, our train was filled with cheerful rugby fans, many of them wearing Ulster Rugby tops/jackets/fleeces. They were on their way to support Ireland against Italy and were already having a good time.
Given that rugby in this jurisdiction is played mainly (but not exclusively) by state/Protestant schools, it struck me that these travelling companions, on their way to cheer on the Irish team, were probably middle-class unionists. AND they risked being forced to listen to/sing ‘Ireland’s Call’: enough to test the loyalty of any fan. Yet here they were, happy to travel and support Ireland.
Does this mean anything? Might such people size up the swivel-eyed loons intent on carrying us into the Brexit wilderness and say “Enough already! If this is the price of remaining British, then stop the bus, let me out, there’s a cliff-edge ahead!”? Mmm, maybe. Or maybe not. Maybe those jolly rugby fans have the ability to compartmentalize, and unlike most of us, never let sport and politics mix.
When I got to Dublin, not being a rugger hugger, I went to the Sinn Féin Special Ard-Fheis in the RDS. (Yes, Virginia, there IS a hyphen between ‘Ard’ and ‘Fheis’. Not many people know that.) The RDS was even more crammed than the train. And while there was a sprinkling of oldies like myself, most in attendance appeared to be in the 30-50 range, with a healthy mixture of men and women.
The Ard-Fheis itself wasn’t exactly a nail-biter: the decision had already been made that Michelle O’Neill was to be leach-uachtarán and Mary Lou McDonald an uachtarán of Sinn Féin. I spoke to a number of people.
A man from Tipperary started off by calling me Jude Law, but then checked himself and said I’d a different hair-style. I asked him about the media claims of bullying in Sinn Féin. His take was that the people making bullying claims were themselves people who’d been engaged in bullying, and when they were pulled up on their conduct, did a quick shoe-shuffle and claimed that they were the victims, not the perpetrators.
In the coffee-queue I chatted with two young men from Strabane. They’d got onto a bus at eight in the morning so they could be at the RDS for half-past eleven. We spoke briefly about the proposed tricolour ban on the Strabane/Derry St Patrick’s Day parade (“Rubbish!”) and the succession of Mary Lou (”Looking good!”). Is it because I’m old that young people seem now more friendly and courteous? Or should I just get out more?
Anyway, Americano in hand, I moved into the hall and sat beside a Wexford man who is a Sinn Féin party member. He told me the party had one Wexford TD and was working hard at adding some more. He talked enthusiastically about the number of young people joining the party, and about the smaller number of older people who feel the party is no longer the one they joined back in the day.
Then it was show time. There were a lot of speakers, but in the warm-up to Mary-Lou three people stood out.
Two of them were men in their prime: Pearse Doherty and John Finucane. Both are strong, forceful speakers, both know their stuff and both brim with political promise.
The third one to impress me was a small female. While the musical break went on too long. her rendering of ‘A Song for Ireland’, sung unaccompanied and with immense sweetness was a delight to the ear. The fact that she also is Martin McGuinness’s grand-daughter added to the pathos.
Overall, I got the impression of a party full of energy and sprinkled with mischief. The energy part was obvious – standing ovations again and again, singing along with the performers, keeping time with waving arms. The mischief showed with the way speeches tended to end: we had several “Up the rebels!” and at least two“Tciochfaidh ar lá!”s. Disrespectful? Threatening? Incitements to violence? None of the above, actually. Just people giving the cat’s tail a playful tweak to see how it reacted.
Sinn Féin is now led by two women who are smart, articulate and emphatically not the type you talk over or shout down. And keeping in mind that in this age of television a bald man cannot be elected US president, both the new uachtarán and an leas-uachtarán tick all the boxes. Strong, smart and good-looking: what more do you want?
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