Wednesday, March 15, 2017

HAC On Ireland


Okay, it being Saint Patrick’s Day, or at least the day before Saint Patrick’s Day, I suppose now might be a good time for me to respond to the frequent requests I get to talk about Ireland from my own perspective. 

Like Rhodesia, I very seldom talk about Ireland because like Rhodesia, the country I knew no longer exists. I lived there for about five years in the 1980s, when it was for all intents and purposes the last all-White society in Europe. In a way Ireland is yet another White society I was privileged to see and live in the last of before it disappeared, just like Rhodesia under the British raj, and South Africa under apartheid, and my own native-born South under segregation. Bear that in mind. If at times I seem a bit cranky and irasible and impatient to you guys, remember, I saw and lived the old world, a lot of it, before it died, and it was a good world, and there is no excuse for what we did and what we have become. It pisses me off.  

Oh, it was already starting in Ireland, even then. It just started late there because during the 1980s the economy and unemployment were so terrible, and there was nothing there for the foreigners to steal. Almost an entire generation of young people left the country and a lot of them never went back. There were Chinese running hot food takeaways everywhere, with some Chinese gang activity in Limerick of all places, for some reason, and just in the years I was there I noticed a slow increase in the number of black faces in Dublin, but I went back to North Carolina in 1987 before the deluge really started.

I last visited Ireland in 1998 and already Dublin was barely recognizable; Moore Street had become a colony of Nigeria and the TV and other official culture was indistinguishable from any American city as far as political correctness and interracial crap goes; there were posters all over Temple Bar and elsewhere of Kenny the Kid from South Park, who for some reason had become a kind of pop hero. But okay, I’ll cut to the nub here, because what I observed in Ireland during that period definitely had a major effect on my political outlook as well as my writing, specifically the Northwest novels. 

Now, bear in mind I am speaking of the 1980s here, when the country was still all White and when the political and social dynamic was different from what it is today. Also, I spent most of my time in the Republic, the 26 Counties; I made a through trips through the North but never spent much time there, and those were and probably still are two very different places. What it’s like over there today I don’t really know, but the first-hand reports I get from the Green Land are not encouraging, put it that way.  

(Uh, you guys understand, don’t you, that all this stuff I’ve been talking about all this time, it can be done? You know that, right? We could accomplish and bring into being  everything I write about in the Northwest novels. Trouble is you guys would actually have to do some things, not just sit there absorbing it all as entertainment.) 

Where was I? Oh, yes, Ireland. Officially the I.R.A. was outlawed in the Republic as well as in the North, but in fact the Provisional I.R.A. more or less used the 26 Counties as a safe house and a staging area for attacks into Ulster, and so long as they behaved themselves while they were in the Republic, the Dublin government pretended they didn’t notice. For a long time in the 60s and 70s there was a kind of equipoise between the Leinster House régime and the Provos.; the way it was explained to  me was that “Neither side wants what the other can dish out." 

By the 1980s this unspoken arrangement was breaking down. The Provos were getting less Nationalist and more Marxist socialist; it was obvious Gerry Adams and the other leadership did think they were Padraig Pearse or Robert Emmet any more, they thought they were Che Guevara and Mao Tse-tung, and some of the lads starting pulling armed robberies and kidnappings and punishment beatings down in the Republic, trying to take over areas and divide up criminal rackets like they did up north in Belfast and Derry.  

That didn’t go over too well with the Dublin government, especially when all the kidnappings and kneecappings started scaring off the tourists. Inevitably there was all kind of spillover as the situation in the North deteriorated. This situation was of course a lot more complicated than I can possibly convey to anybody who wasn’t there.  

Every now and then a few of them would be tried for I.R.A. membership and gun charges, but that was when these guys had already shown their butts in other ways and the gun charges were tacked on to the violence and the robberies and general terrorism.  

The main thing I recall about life in the Republic at the time was that two of the conditions of the revolutionary Tripod had been fulfilled, notably that  there was in fact a fighting revolutionary part, left-wing though it was, I mean a literal fighting party like grandma and grandpa used to make. 

Secondly the Dublin government did not have a credible monopoly of armed force. Things got done off stage, things went boom and bang and thwack in the night and no one was caught or arrested or charged. What this meant was that in practice, what some Dublin bureaucrat or cop or judge or politician said, didn’t necessarily go. For those who were properly connected, there was a court of appeal.  

This is important to attain in our own society. We have to bring about a state of affairs where the word of some lying thief in an expensive suit, or some political gangster in a black robe, ain’t necessarily the last word, and in some cases the last word is spoken by men in ski masks who explain to the bad people exactly where their lines are and what they can and cannot do, in terms the bad people cannot fail to understand.  

Every one of these scum who rule us need to get up in the morning knowing that there are certain lines they cannot cross and certain things they cannot do. 

I have seen that situation in Ireland, and so I know it can be. You guys don’t, and that’s always been so much of the problem with me and you folks; I know all this stuff can be done because I’ve seen it and lived it; you’ve known nothing but American liberal democracy and American television and Rush Limbaugh, and so you think it’s all eternal and chiseled in stone forever. It isn’t.



Anonymous Anonymous said...

Theres a lot of lessons to be learned in northern Ireland, but keep in mind that the IRA is a bunch of avowed leftist socialists. NOT National Socialists.

7:58 AM  
Blogger Technomad said...

You might find the book Watching the Door by Kevin Myers to be interesting reading. Myers was a reporter in Northern Ireland for the first decade of the "Troubles," and this is his account of what life was like.

12:06 PM  

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