CATHOLIC CHURCH- STATE RELATIONSHIP ON PRESPICE OF CHANGE

Introduction;

The Catholic church in Ireland has been indicted for its complicity in its collusion in non disclosure of material which was sought by a State appointed commission to investigate the degree of this non cooperation.
The State sought documents from the Vatican pertaining to the extent and type of child abuse perpetrated by priests. The violation of children has been utterly depraved .
The Murphy Commission requested documents from the Vatican in order to determine the degree of the non -disclosure of documents by bishops to the commission. The Vatican did not acknowledge the requests . The defence of the Vatican has been that the Commisssion did not go through the proper diplomatic channells . It maintained that it should be treated as a state and as such documents the orthodox channels should have been used .
The Catholic Church has enjoyed a special position in Irish political life . It had at one time been afforded a ''special position ''under the Irish constitution.
One Bishop has resigned , Bishop Murray of Limerick.
5 other Bishops stand indicted in the public conscience for the same offense which Murray was guilty of ie refusal to cooperate and disclose to the police the names and identity of the offfending priests . Their depraved sexual abuse of children has been tryly shocking.

One priest has been hauled from the courts this week in shackles , to prison for life . There are others who must follow.
But here I address the reason why the bishop in my own diocese must resign.


******************



Should Bishop Drennan of Galway resign or Must he be retired


In a word yes . Immediately.
If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly .
Should Dr Drennan wish to wallow in the self satisfying delusion that he is better serving his congregation by staying he should look at today 18 Dec .2009 poll on the Galway Bay FM Radio web page . 77 % wish him to go.; 23% wish him to stay.
Despite this Dr Drennan has spoken this morning about the many calls from well wishers and those pleading with him to remain. This is curious perspective in the light of this poll.
But perhaps more well wishers ring the palace than those silent majority who were hoping at least until this afternoon that he might have chosen to act honorably and go gracefully .
They will have been disappointed that he has not done so . Many will startled by the bishop's trenchant obduracy, most especially now that he has attacked Diarmuid Martin , whom Drennan believes has disparaged him.

Dr Drennan does not have a user friendly personna . He comes across as cantankerous , curmudgeonly misanthrope .He has little charm or warmth about him. He exudes a lofty haughter ; an aloofness which not simply alienates - it is hectoring and scarcely what he sees an an outrageous chalange to his authority And he has been less that magnanimous in his own defence .
He has offered no solace ; no comfort; no piety , repentance or contrition.
He is ruthlessly doctrinaire ; a fundamentalist who has manifestly lost the drift of the message of his founder , the gentle Nazarine carpenter .

The common denominator running through the defence of the remaining bishops is the one famously used by Bart Simpson
'' I didn't do it . Anyway no one saw me ( me do it)''

The absence of a single genuine utterance of true remorse is deeply upsetting to the congregations. The remorse they do express seems sadly to focus more on for themselves
In seeking forgiveness they are only asking the remaining faithful to secure for them their tenure in the comfort of their palaces. - '' I have only a few years to go ...'' - an utterly asinine excuse .'' .and ''.if I thought that I would better serve their interests by going I would .go instantly.''
And this disguised platitudinous self centered pity plays to the most fervent and pious of their congregations , most particularly the elderly , who have invested a lifetime in their sincere personal faith in their pastoral carers , and who are loath to accept failings in men they believe are conduits to their God.

These utterings now , especially Dr Drennan's are an unworthy display or hubris . They are worse ; they are an affirmation that their lust for power eclipses all else .

This seems to be a well rehearsed strategy. Deny , remain obdurate ,obfuscate denunciate the vileness perpetrated on the children - but then back off.- NOT ME .
I was not involved .I knew nothing. They have nothing on me.
If the Church through its religious and secular representative , the Papal Nuncio ,is not now called in by the Minister for Foreign Affair to account for the bishops betrayal and abandonment of the common law , this would be an indictment of Minister Martin in his capacity as Minister for Foreign Affairs .
If through the Byzantine channels of communication , which the Vatican has sought to use in order to thwart further the legal process the Pope through his own diplomatic channels fails to respond , and his servants ( employees) fail to cooperate with Stait Eireann in providing to the legal custodians of this state , every document which is relevant to the systematic abuse of children- not just those documents which are specifically known to exist - but those documents which are pertinent , Germain , relevant ( as these terms are used in common parlance in the English Language and without availing of the absurdity and demeaning defence of '' mental reservation'' - to the entire case then relationships with the Vatican must change utterly and formally so. The Vatican in these circumstances would have to be regarded as a hostile state .

Ultimately people will have to face the courts for the criminality which the church engaged in in concealing by collusion the evidence which they held and withheld from an Gardai , for that is what the Murphy Commission was all about ; the church's failure to cooperate with the state's own investigating authority .
This is not an exercise in revenge . It is rather more what a '' confident and mature Independent secular state should insist in doing with errant and aberrant members of its citizen ; who if convicted are common criminals.- (but not ODC's)
To haul the convicted elderly men away from the courts in shackles , which seemed to be the case last week - that seemed wrathful and an unnecessary display of bravado , which only serves to confer martyrdom status on them ,when they should be simply reviled and put away.
This is the mature execution of punishment for crime .
Old Testament Justice is not required here ; the laws of Aquinas will suffice.
Cannon Law has been made redundant the very instant that the Vatican insisted on the ruse of obfuscation insisting on the use of diplomatic channels in engaging with an investigating authority commissioned by this State .

''Roma Loquitor , Causa Fineta ''- This no longer applies since the Vatican have elected to be treated as a State rather than a religion .

''Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's ''-
That is the road the Vatican have chosen to go .

And as for Drennan - He must listen to the voice of the people . It is not difficult to hear the silence of the angry rumble ; and if he is still in doubt he could have a look at the Galway Bay FM Web page .
The voice of 77 % of the people should surely warrant his attention and should assist him focus in this , his time of '' reflection''

The Sons of Abraham > The Middle East in Bible Prophecy

The Sons of Abraham > The Middle East in Bible Prophecy

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THE CASE AGAINST BRIDEY IN BRIDESHEAS REVISITED

Bridey is the anthisis of Sebastian ; he has to be both to give tonality to the family assembly; he is monochrome where sebastian is all luminous and like a brilliant bubble from a pipe - exudes for an instant the exquisitenesses of a rainbow and then opuff and its gone- Anthony Blanche.Blanche later described Bridey as a sort of a great LLama heading of to the endless and pointless destiny of his predictable life.
He is happy after all to take over the meaningless continuiyty of the feudal systaem and has no vision or concience to see the inequality his forbears have foisted of the farming community. the Wealth is assumed ; it is not earned nor is there any thought given to any altruism of the spirit. He prays dutifully - but disdains Catholicism and Christianity; he is not a reformer - that is repugnant to his nature; neither will he end up as a monk dying alone in an abbey never to be reconciled to god or to his family , because he has no spiritual attachment to either - He is ritualistic and predictable ; for him noblesse oblige and preserving the family escutcheon is all ; But nothing matters because he is so soul

On reflection I think Bridey was the character who best personified Waugh himself. Waugh had an indifferent relationship, was fastidious and petty minded inmany things . He aspired to discovering an aristocratic lineage , and having failed to do so in the UK he retired to Ireland and bought a castle where he tried to life out his pretentious imaginings.
But he disdained the indigent Irish who had little interest in blue blooded ancestry , much to Waugh's exasperation . He eventually abandoned the project. If we are to believe what is written about him he was a pretentious ,intolerant and insufferable snob.He also , let it be said , wrote at least one masterpiece in Brideshead, which remains one of my favorite books and will remain in the canon of English literature , and Waugh's own name is firmly placed in the pantheon of major 20th century writing.

Booksie

BooksieBy way of preamble I would like very briefly to relate some of the circumstances, which led to my decision to pursue my career in the Defense Forces.
These motivations were a mixture of personal experiences over a 7 yr period during which I had sought but failed thus far to discover a sense of professional security or personal satisfaction in my career.
I do not propose to elaborate here on this particular strand of my experience but the allure of the army however may have had a more subtle, subterranean but potent psychological influence on me given that both my father and my uncle had served with distinction in most of the major campaigns during the second world war
. My Father served as a dentist in world war 2 from the battle of El Alamein- the defeat of Rommel; through Italy, and again on the D-day landings.
He was also one of the first dentists sent in to Dachau death camp after the war to assist in quantifying the dead from dental forensics.
But to return to my own narrative. Having spent 7 post graduate years on a seemingly aimless odyssey – in surgery , medicine , psych , casualty obs etc during the winter of 1979 at the age of 30 I saw an advertisement for doctors in the Irish Army.
My impression of the Army at the time was fused with images of bulls wool. Boots, high barrack walls and booze ; of broken down trucks manned by frozen soldiers with cyanosed faces on St Patrick’s day parade , but I was also aware that their involvement in the Congo had changed the Army ; had shaken the mothballs and laid down a challenge for them to participate in the UN mission in the Congo, and that they had responded this challenge with valour.
I was immediately attracted to the world of the Mid Oriental glamour that service in the Lebanon might provide ; that dual sense of revulsion and seduction coupled with the sense of adventure into the exoticism of the middle east seemed to evoke in me an irresistible appeal. I was also lured by the hope that I might finally find some definitive destiny and purpose in my chosen career.
I was commissioned in Feb 80 and my first posting was to St Bricins Military Hospital. The post was ill defined. I was a kind naïve novitiate in this strange new world of military medicine ..
The first time I attended the surgical OPD was indeed a revelation to me . The surgeon – a Prof of Surgery in Mercers hospital was reviewing his post op cases. These were first inspected by my commanding officer, and he in turn instructed me how to present the case to the surgeon in military fashion,
. I was like a kind of a minor acolyte in what was beginning to look to me more and more like something bordering on comical farce The case was an excised ingrown toenail. I joke you not -They both looked at the toe quite ponderously, then turning to me the surgeon said – a thing of beauty is a joy forever’ . At that dark moment I had that sinking feeling that I was becoming an unwilling participant in a of a bad pantomime , out of season.
But there I was an innocent on the precipice of something propitious; a beholder of the prodigious marvels of this giant of surgery.
But then quite to my surprise, this quaint and avuncular old professor came up with one astonishing epithet which I have cherished to this day. After the laborious day in OPD reviewing toe nails and other mind boggling surgical triumphs he called me aside and told me there were 2 kinds of patients I would meet in the army – Those who wont stand up and those who wont lie down.
This was to be come quite manifestly clear to me very soon , and it would endure the span of my military career .’ Those who wont stand up and those who wont lie down-It was so prophetic and precise that I always doubted if this later day surgical pioneer could have conceivably coined the phrase. It was axiomatic and almost Wildean in its satiric wisdom .
I was soon posted to Costume Barracks Athlone where I was to learn more about Byzantine structure of the army chain of command . This is quite unfathomable to comprehend. Suffice it to say that by comparison the HSE module is one of dazzling clarity. In the army , the pyramidal structure is so ordained that the higher up the chain you go the less responsibility you take ; It also ordains than when any cudos attaches to some initiative , the traffic is all one way to the top; and where blame attaches the traffic goes all the way to the bottom.
The most benign way of describing it is to say that the Army has a time honored code, which says that divided responsibility is diminished culpability. This keeps the top guy at the top and inures him from any usurpery , competition or challenge from those lesser creatures beneath him.
By 1980 the destiny of the Army had already been determined The weather vane of all militaries had changed and that arrow which was slewn in the Congo in the 1960s had drawn the army into a new and consequential era , and now the Defense Forces were involved in the changing geopolitical landscape of the Middle East
I arrived in Lebanon just after the Israeli war. The Israelis had retreated to a UN brokered line in Southern Lebanon .The UN had been sent in to the buffer zone between Israel and Southern Lebanon. But now the Lebanese were engaged in a civil war .This involved a power struggle between the various sectarian factions- largely Shiite and Sunni Muslims, and smaller Christian and Druze community . At one time or another each of these groups aligned themselves to the other 2 for political supremacy.
So within the buffer zone the civil war was raging ; and to the south the Israelis were poised to reinvade if their Northern territories were imperiled again by the PLO.
It was here in this buffer zone that the Irish battalion was deployed. The medical platoon comprised 2 doctors and 18 medical orderlies. The mission was referred to by the acronym UNIFIL - the united nations interim forces in Lebanon. The interim part of the thing is curious given that the mission lasted 23 years.
We occupied a hospital about the size of Portiuncula in the 60s in the mountain town of Tibnine – about 40 miles East of Beruit
Due to the vagaries of the civil war the attendance of the resident medical staff was irregular and unpredictable. We therefore had to provide hospital in patient care in medicine, surgery, paeds most of the time for the surrounding hinterland.
In addition to this we were tasked with the providing clinics outside the UNIFIL- where the villagers were deprived of even the basic medical services for weeks on end.
My first call out was a road side execution.
There at the side of the road was a young man with his hands tethered with electric cable and a bullet through his head There was and a note attached to his clasped hands. We were cautioned never to touch the bodies lest they be booby-trapped. The body had to be turned with a grappling hook - The note read – those who chose to play with fire will pay with fire. He was about 16 yrs of age.

My second call out was after a dawn air raid – the houses of a suspected terrorists had been targeted and blown up by an Israeli Air strike. The mercenary had escaped leaving 2 dead children in the carnage. I can never forget the image of their 2 beautiful faces – undamaged as we put their small bodies into adult body bags, tagged them , and bought them to the hospital fridges. The hardest soldiers were touched by this pitiful sight, as most had children about their ages: a boy and a girl about 10-11 years of age
We were called back to the same village some 2 hrs later.
There was a flurry of activity around derelict house. Hope dawned in that something could be salvaged from the carnage. We were soon to discover that there was a mule trapped inside the smoldering shack. After the initial shock the farmer who owned the shack and the father of the dead children realized that he could have another family, but he couldn’t harvest his meagre tobacco and olive crop without his mule.
And while this seemed repugnant to our sense of values, as most of these mountain people were living on subsistence farming his rationale was very real to him. So you had accept the realization that this was Lebanon- life was at the same time both sacred and cheap, but survival was everything.

We also catered for a Norwegian Transport Company of about 400 soldiers within our area . One morning I was called to the yard, where a mechanic had blown himself up while welding a petrol tank. His clothes were still smoldering when we got there and the smell of burning cloth and flesh still lingers. He had massive 3rd degree burns, well in excess of 50%
We infused him with plasma , plasma expanders and morphine. He went into shock and had a cardiac arrest. He was resuscitated and when he was stabilized to some extent he was airlifted by helicopter to Naqura – the UNIFIL field hospital on the coast between Israel and Lebanon, My only worry in transit was that he would have another arrest in flight .You hear nothing with a stethoscope in a helicopter.
As we approached the field hospital I spoke from the air with the chief surgeon explaining the extent of the burns. I suggested we request permission to take him over the border into Israel – to Rambam medical hospital in Haifa, He agreed and assured me that he would arrange permission for us to cross the border without landing . He was to arrange this with the Northern Command of the Israeli Defence Forces who controlled the border. There was a mechanism whereby these airlifts , Missions of Mercy could usually be readily negotiated with the Israelis , who almost without exception responded positively and expeditiously to such requests .The pilot then got clearance to go and as we approached the border just over the cliffs at rosh an enqura they opened fire on the helicopter. The rounds were tracers mostly it later transpired, but the Israelis later insisted that they hadn’t been forewarned of an air lift and as they had been aware of an imminent air attack by the PLO , and thinking this was it they took preventative action by firing on the helcopter.
We landed on the rooftop of the hospital and delivered the patient to the care of the Israeli doctors. We had dealt with Israeli doctors on many previous occasions . Most of their doctors were , like their military American trained. Miraculously the patient survived; the Israelis had been at the cutting edge of the management of extensive burns at the time . So a week went by and against the odds the pt had survived . then a fortnight ,then a month. At this stage there was a great yearning by the Norwegians to bring him home as the Norwegians were also developing new techniques for the management of burns – This involved treating the pt untouched in a bath of olive oil and using bilaminate skin and biologic self-skin replacement. So the patient survived for a further 2 months and died in Norway just short of 100 days post injury.
On reflection had he died on the spot or after the first cardiac arrest, things might have been more humane.
Lazarus
Reflecting on many of the memories which in turn both haunt and humour me now , on reflection I see they have a common thread ; the of lack of communication.
This is certainly the case in another incident.
This was a case where at an outlying clinic I was asked to see an old man who was bedridden. On examination it seemed to me that he had Congestive Cardiac Failure, and I arranged to bring him back to the civilian hospital in Tibnine, which was now under military control. I knew the Col in charge of the hospital and explained to him that I would look after the patient . In the morning the family arrived at my surgery in a very distraught state to tell me that their father had been transferred to Tyre hospital on the coast. I went immediately to the Col who confessed that he had ordered the transfer on account of the old man’s political baggage – he was a PLO fighter and any overt sympathy shown by the military in charge of the hospital could invite retaliation .
Because of further suicide bombings on the coast road the family had been denied access to the Tyre hospital.
On the following day I received a call from a French Major – an NGO officer to tell me that my patient had died during the night and that he was delivering the remains back to me later that day.
I then went to break the news to the distraught family. When the hearse / ambulance arrived in the village square the major came directly to me with the papers – his manifest - I went in to the ambulance to identify the remains before the family might see him to see to my initial horror, there was the old guy sitting up on a stretcher, his stick still in hand – He winked at me and bade me- Marhabba ( good day )
Shocked and stupefied I went to the grieving family across the square who just wanted the body back. I explained that there was an error and that their father was in fact alive. I was knocked aside in the stampede, and they whisked their father away never to trust me again.
I just could not comprehend how the French Officer could have accepted a corpse believing it to be so without checking. He was outraged simply because in his opinion his office had been misled. It never occurred to him that he might have inspected and identified his manifest – No, he was adamant –He had followed proper procedure and he insisted that he was given a death certificate in Arabic and that it was completely outside his remit, and his Gallic affront could not be appeased. It transpired that the ‘death certificate ‘ were just the personal details of the old man. It made no reference to his health let alone his demise.
The family later forgave me, but after some humble contrite imploring on my behalf and later I came to befriend the old man… but they never let him out of their sight in my presence ever again.
We helped out in other battalion areas. I remember having to go to stay in the Fijian area after their doctor had dropped dead out jogging one morning. he was just 40 . The Fijians sent just one medical officer per battalion – considering that they have only 4 battalions in their army their contribution to the UN was proportionally quite enormous.
But the workload was far too much for one doctor in a stand alone situation, particularly when just some months previously the Israeli Defence forces launched an aerial bombardment on a tent within the Fijian compound where the local civilians had taken refuge.
There had been warnings of retaliations on suspected members of the Hizbulla in the town of Quana. The Israelis launched what they referred to as operation Grapes of Wrath. The Air strike was precise. Despite the blue flag of the UN and the Red Cross they struck the tent with precision killing 150 women and children.
Again we were confronted with the merciless barbarity of war in all its evil manifestations- more children in more body bags, and the mass burials before dawn.
This particular episode more than any other highlighted for me the many shortcomings of the UNIFIL mandate. We had failed all the refugees seeking protection in a UN compound, under the Red Cross and the blue flag and had witnessed an incident of ethnic cleansing which we were powerless to prevent.

Don Tidey Kidnapping
Between tours of duty things were still unsettled at home. The IRA was still active and the main function of the army at home was to aid the civil powers and to subdue any internal threat to the structures of the State.

In Late December 1983 the business man- Don Tidey, had been kidnapped by the IRA)

I had been stationed in Finner Camp in Donegal and had gone down to Dublin for the Medical Corps Annual Dress dance. I was in the middle of the jubilations when I was called to the emergency phone in St Bricins. The 4 western Command had been put on stand by; I was ordered to return to Finner.
I was given 4 hrs to recover from my revelry then get into my car and drive to Finner.
I arrived in Finner where there was an escort waiting. I didn’t have time to change. I was told to follow on so I turned the car – and was led into the heartland of IRA Country – Ballinamore. There was a siege mounted around Dadara wood. They were expecting the IRA to break cover at any time. A Garda and a soldier had been killed just before I arrived.
I immediately set about establishing a medical aid post in the belief that a shoot out was imminent.
There was only one request I made, Just provide me with a room to treat any injuries, Every 6 hrs we had a briefing and a debriefing – sometimes with the Gardai sometimes without. At each briefing I asked about the possibility of getting a room in a school house. There was a reluctance to entertain this request which baffled me initially. It then became apparent to me that the local parish priest was a sympathizer and had refused the request, I thought it was simply a question of knocking down the door but it shows you that even then the army didn’t want to cross swords with the clergy; besides my superiors reasoned, hadn’t I 3 ambulances at my command, and an army helicopter at my disposal- one of the 4 helicopters in the air corps -dedicated for evacuation of wounded. What more could I possibly want – A room just to stabilize the patients, I
reasoned. I tried to explain that a helicopter is like the worst possible kind of ambulance except it was in the sky – I needed somewhere to stabalize patients before they could face being evacuated by helicopter ; But there seemed to be this indelible belief that if you got your wounded into a helicopter all would be well – after all that was the way it was in the movies .
For 4 days and nights I stayed in the ambulance in Ballinamore Square . By the end of the 2nd day my hopes for a shoot out were fading. On the 4thrd day O Hare was shot in an ambush in Cavan. He survived and Don Tidey was rescued.
The Cordon of steel around Darada wood was wound down and on Xmas eve I handed over duty to a colleague. But by then the IRA had long escaped through a maze of tunnels and undoubtedly with some not insubstantial local support.
A TV documentary was later made about the kidnapping and the siege and the rescue. It brought home to people how much the Army were resented in the area at the time.
It was alleged that soldiers were refused service in some shops which was denied by the local representatives- but I saw my own staff being refused cigarettes and minerals in at least one shop. Such was the feeling of IRA support in these republican enclaves around the country in the mid 80s and there e was a reciprocal antipathy to the Army and Gardai in these areas.
As 2000 ended I had declined to go forward for interview for promotion. Twice. The thought of returning to Dublin and all that entailed was something I just could not countenance.
Now the Lebanon was over and I was returning to a microcosmic world of peacetime – army life.
A life of petty jealousies, of small tyrannies , where the classic tensions of command structure vied with comradeship and collegiality.; where the ruthlessness of self promotion above personal loyalty were hard wired into the cultural ecosystem. Where the compensation culture had become endemic; where I seemed to be seeing more and more of those soldiers who would not stand up, and fewer of those who would not lie down , and where my personal sense of compassion was waning with all of these regrettable changes..
Lest I have given the impression otherwise, I should acknowledge that I have also been privileged to work and serve with the very best of Irish soldiery ; and it would be gravely unjust if I were to close without marking my personal respect to those who paid the ultimate sacrifice in the cause of peace.
And for all the other soldiers who served as noble ambassadors in Lebanon and elsewhere; who give of their service, but much more – who give willingly of their magnanimity and their personal affection for those less fortunate than themselves. These I also applaud and revere.
But for me .the hum drum of barracks life was beckoning and a gloom seemed to be descending on army life for me
Army in peace time is like unscripted amateur drama. Prima donnas and pretentiousness, the pettiness of barrack life - ,the boots , and booze and the vacuous boastfulness and heroics lived out only in a delirium of spurned opportunity.
I could see myself slinking ever earlier in to the officers mess as the sun slid over the barrack walls , over the polished unplayed piano , along the freshly waxed corridors , through the squinting windows -and seasons would pass , the world would turn and old barrack room warriors would live out their delusions at the bar to a captive audience of timorous junior officers.
And so in 2002 I decided to retire and unlike General Mc Arthur I decided to just fade away .
Je ne regret rien.

THE LAST OLIVE TREE

From the mountain the rolling dusty hills rippled under the dappled light all the way to the coast. Here deep against the slopes the village was perched like an eagle landed furtive, timorous
The moods of the changing seasons seemed to mirror those of the villagers – from the stolid and wistful in winter yielding to a jauntiness in spring followed by the languor under the torpid summer sun; Now it was autumn and the fruit hung heavily on the olive trees, the tobacco leaves a vivid yellow in the slanting sunlight.
. The people had been invaded conquered, oppressed in turn by the Greeks, then the Romans. Each had tried to impose with an implacable force the ideals of their empires; their justice and law, their art and their culture Both had failed and had at length abandoned their missions; they deemed these people indolent and unworthy. But these people were of an older race; The Phoenicians whose own creed was as ancient as it was resolute.
Bountiful harvest following on a good blessing, justice following on wisdom rather than mercy. Their most prayer invoked a belief that one day’s justice was worth a thousand days prayer. But despite their prayer both peace and justice had long eluded them; yet they were resilient and accepted their fate with a resignation and fortitude which the cynic saw as surrender, but the which wise as an expression of nobility.
But now things had changed.
Abdul Hassan Nabbi was among them He was a lowbred thug from the other side of the mountain; He had fled to the south when the Israelis first bombed the mountain villages. There he was recruited in to the Israeli backed militia, and now he controlled the region with his band of craven vagabonds. Because of the ill-defined ambiguous nature of their mandate the UN forces were powerless to restrain them. Nabbi exploited every opportunity of this ambiguity and was thus inured from restraint.
He had pillaged the villages as he choose. Taken a young boy here, a girl there; had taken anything of any value from each home. Sometimes the captives were returned when they failed to amuse him any more. But some rather that face the shame on return had taken their own lives.
Since their young men had fled to the north and only the elderly and the very young remained Nabbi had humiliated and terrorised the mountain people with impunity. Each evening after prayer he came to the village square in a convoy of battered Mercedes cars. He would alight from his car with a pretentious splendour. He was dressed in the uniform of Colonel and carried a swagger stick with a silver cap as he strutted among the frozen people emerging from the mosque. He would sit in regal court in the village square and speak to them in hectoring tones about the young men who had fled, how the UN soldiers had to dig the graves, which now awaited each of them. Some of the villagers would approach him and plead his mercy for a son, a daughter.

Nabbis militia had taken control of the bridge leading to the coast and he was accruing a substantial income from the taxes he imposed on the trucks carrying the tobacco to Tyre. But just yesterday the Un had taken the bridge and tried to disarm his men. They had refused them armed passage across the bridge. They were allowed cross if they surrendered their arms, which would be returned to them on the other side of the occupied enclave. This was the first confrontation of its kind he’d had with the UN. Such was his fury at the affront that even now his own henchmen now knowing his wrath feared his volatility. They had seen him angered in the past and knew his retribution to be ruthless merciless and unpredictable.
But he seemed oddly mild mannered tonight as he sat in the square in the falling light He listened in a manner which seemed almost obsequious; a sort of mild mannered patrimony which erstwhile might have suggested concern and when he spoke he did so with an odious calm, his menace hidden by the shaded glasses.
He told them they would each join his militia and march on the bridge in the coming days. His men would train them the rudiments of marching and carrying arms. Only the housebound would be excused. The training would begin this evening.
Leelia listened to his monstrous speech with a wide-eyed innocence. She was vulnerable. At 17 she was the last one left to care for her grandfather, who now bedridden with a cancer which was slowly eating him up. He bland expression showed not the smallest suggestion of her inner revulsion at this vile man. She hated him with a passion, which she knew was sinful. The UN doctor was now caring for her grandfather. A kindly man but who was given to the weakness of arak . The smell was always on his breath. He came at odd times to her house to see the old man and the two though separated by language and culture had developed a friendship, which was strange. Her grandfather scarcely tolerated the UN for not holding a stronger position with the Israelis who every day broke the agreement they had made with the Un by remaining in the demilitarised zone.
To tell him now that the people of the village were being marched to the bridge by this thug would be like a scorpion in his heart. He had fought from Jerusalem, to Beirut. He would never accept the new borders. His homeland was in Palestine. His family had lived just outside Jerusalem and he considered the Israeli the invader – the Occupier.
Leelia thought quickly. She would have to get to the hakim tonight. He had explained about the medicines. How often the old man was to take each. There was one for pain, one for sleep, one for. Hiccoughs and others for the several afflictions he endured now in his last battle – the one he could not win.
When she came home he was sitting out in the twilight, under a vine her father had grown.
He asked her about all the news from the village and then
- The hakim – he did not come today.
- No Papa he could not come today; there was much bombing in Shakra – they were with the wounded all day. He will come tomorrow.
Unlike him her grandfather complained a lot that evening. Then she discovered that he had not taken his medicine today. He had got a bottle of Arak, which he was going to drink with the Hakim when he came. He liked him and would like to drink with him; just the 2 of them. She could see the disappointment even through his pain and it hurt her more than he could possibly ever see. At last she persuaded him to take his medicine now and to rest. He protested a little but this was more from habit than from hope.
When he was in bed she came gave him a measure of each of the syrups the hakim had made up, as the old man could not swallow tablets anymore. She waited until she saw the pain ebb from his face.
She slipped out quietly. Ahmed was waiting in the dark under the vine. He had with him an old suitcase. He asked if she had everything she needed. Just one other thing she asked. Could he bring her to the Hakim that night? Ahmed looked at her bewildered.
- Tonight with all Berry’s men.
- -No they have gone now. They wont be back until morning. Do this one thing for me Ahmed.
She had known the boy all her life. He could scarcely refuse her. She got into the car and directed him to take a route that avoided all the checkpoints. This puzzled Ahmed, as the UN would be the only ones at the checkpoints now.
Finally they drew up outside the medical aid post. She instructed Ahmed to wait and went to the gate. The soldiers knew her as her sisters used to interpret for the MO at the clinics and while it was late they let her in.
When he came out of his room his face was flushed and bloated. What a waste of a mans life she thought as he came to her with a smiling frown.
- It is papa. I hate to come so late. But he is very sick now.
He looked at her with concern
-Leelia, do you want me to go to him tonight,
- No not tonight. But maybe you come tomorrow.
- Yes of course, I was supposed to go today, but I suppose you heard about Shakra
- Yes I hear, Can you please give me strong injection for papa for tonight. I give it to him. You show me how.
- Yes I know you know how, but I have to tell you Leela he is a very frail man. Any more than just as much as he needs for the pain would. well... be too much
- Yes you tell me this before. Please just for tonight
- I really should se him you know. I could
- No no please not come tonight, road very dangerous. You not hear..? Yes maybe they boom boom our village tonight, not safe.please.
He thought aloud –it’s not the right way, but there is nothing anyone can do for him now you know … it’s very delicate. Only so much medicine. Any more.... ..He trailed off then sobered from his reverie and asked
- How did you get here? How will you get home?
She assured him she knew the safe road and he could come in the morning. Reluctantly he went to the medicine cupboard and took out a vial a syringe and some swabs. As they were walking down to the gate he asked about her brothers. No news of them. It was better that way .He had heard something about the trouble on the bridge and this man Nabbi .Yes he is very evil man but no trouble. She said nothing of the plan he’d made to march the villagers on the bridge. It was simply too complicated.
When she looked in the old man was asleep. She took out the measures and filled each one again, and going to the bed she gently roused him.
Papa, she told him in his delirium. We have forgotten the medicine tonight. He protested but without conviction. She fed him the syrups one by one again. He had long accepted his confusion with time and took the medicines with the contorted face children made. She eased him back to bed and waited. He was asleep again within minutes. She then took the vial and filled the syringe. She waited in the light of the paraffin lamp until she saw his breathing grow shallow and the anguish dissipate as the medicine coursed in his feeble veins .She went to the bed and gently drawing back back the sheet she injected his withered buttock. He barely flinched as she withdrew the needle.
Though it was not yet dawn she knelt to the east and prayed. She then took the suitcase and assembled the corset as she had been shown. She had 2 measures of the syrup ready and now she threw each back. Very soon both anger and joy were fusing in her soul, she was an olive tree with silver hands reaching to all the people of the valley, legs and arms and golden clouds swirling and she stepped on to the road. The cars drew nearer. She walked on, just a bit farther to where there was reason or anger but a burning conviction beyond these; where reason and anger had merged. Nothing was, as it seemed .It was the right thing to do. There was no argument in reason, and no sense in being, no point in the politics – there was only the least worthy of passions in her soul as the cars pulled up beside her. The last thing she thought proudly about was the image of a single cedar tree she’d seen somewhere in a brochure .
Then slowly but firmly she pulled the cord.


-

BRIDESHEAD REVISITED- THE ENGLISH CATHOLIC

THE FOLLOWS ON FROM A DISCUSSION GROUP..OF SAME NAME ..


Bridey is the antithesis of Sebastian ; he has to be both to give tonality to the family assembly; he is monochrome where Sebastian is all luminous and like a brilliant bubble from a pipe - exudes for an instant the exquisitenesses of a rainbow and then puff and its gone- Anthony Blanche.Blanche later described Bridey as a sort of a great Lama heading of to the endless and pointless destiny of his predictable life.
He is happy after all to take over the meaningless continuity of the feudal system and has no vision or conscience to see the inequality his forbears have foisted of the farming community. the Wealth is assumed ; it is not earned nor is there any thought given to any altruism of the spirit. He prays dutifully - but disdains Catholicism and Christianity; he is not a reformer - that is repugnant to his nature; neither will he end up as a monk dying alone in an abbey never to be reconciled to god or to his family , because he has no spiritual attachment to either - He is ritualistic and predictable ; for him noblesse oblige and preserving the family escutcheon is all ; But nothing matters because he is so soulless.

On reflection I think Bridey was the character who best personified Waugh himself. Waugh had an indifferent relationship, was fastidious and petty minded in many things . He aspired to discovering an aristocratic lineage , and having failed to do so in the UK he retired to Ireland and bought a castle where he tried to life out his pretentious imaginings.
But he disdained the indigent Irish who had little interest in blue blooded ancestry , much to Waugh's exasperation . He eventually abandoned the project. If we are to believe what is written about him he was a pretentious ,intolerant and insufferable snob.He also , let it be said , wrote at least one masterpiece in Brideshead, which remains one of my favorite books and will remain in the canon of English literature , and Waugh's own name is firmly placed in the pantheon of major 20th century writing.

This was a book written by an atheist about an English Catholic Aristocratic family.
The family had resided in the family pile dating back to the battle of Agincourt.
They are resolute in their slavish fanatical ethos of their faith. The church forbids divorce ,and much of the book fringes on the periphery of theLord Marchmaain's dalliance and his escape from the strictures of catholicism. On his death bed he asks his daughter if it were not somehow acceptable to escapeas he did. No she says Im afraid not father , leaving the old man to die allienated from the family he presides over.
The English attitude towards catholicism was quite different to the Irish . The Irish attitude to their religion , which is almost an extension , or was, of the Irish Free State . De Valera consulted widely with the church regarding state policy regarding divorce , abstention , birth control , drinking. DEvalera's Ireland was a vision -almost an evangelical message he received from a higher power -a deity- he looked into his soul to see the yearnings of the Irish -as did Louis 1VX
He saw visions of a happy contented community with comely maidens dancing at the cross roads- whether he actually said the latter is disputed . There is something very risque about the concept now.
De valera and the Church had a profound impact on the governance of the practice of obstetrics to the extent that gynecologists in the late 50- early 60's were practicing symphysiotomies; where the pelvic joint is severed to facilitate further childbirth; this practice inflicted untold suffering of their unfortunate patients in later life- incontinence, pain etc.
This practice is now almost considered an assault of the person , such is its barbarity and clinical redundancy.
But suffering was considered an ennobling thing in childbirth; opiate medications were often withheld in the face of extreme pain.
This was also practiced in religious led hospitals; the feeling was that the suffering of the dying cancer patients in the agony of their last mortal torment could be debited as it were from the inevitable purgatory .
The piety of the 30- 50's Ireland was a contrast from the early monastic scholars of the 7th century , who paid little heed to Rome ; they took mistresses and continued their lives in prayer , worship,adoration study.
They brought their studies to the continent - to Rome itself - The Irish College still remains-The minks brought their learning back to the UK and established the first settled places of advanced learning in the humanities; hence the older colleges of both Oxford and Cambridge.

The Irish abandoned religion in the 80's - the last generation to attend to the faith were the baby boomers.
The Celtic tiger devoured not only adherence to faith , but also encouraged the abandonment of civility and courtesy . The Paris Hilton / Naomi Cambell role model is the adopted format and this is manifest in the drug and drink culture- seee main streets of any Irish town on a weekend night.

IRISH TROOPS DEPLOYMENT WITH EUfor

EUFor- Irish contribution - Chad Mission


Of all the Eu countries , we have least interest in engaging in a EU military mission in a post colonial situation. ; The French have colonial interests in Chad ; the Chinese have more immediate economic interests in Sudan , with their ever increasing thirst for oil . We have no colonial interest anywhere. We just emerged from British colonialism , and some would argue - not quite completely To be seen now to prop a post colonial regimen by sending in Irish troops is a gross error. We have served with distinction from the Congo to the Lebanon , East Timor Namibia , Liberia etc.
To think that the rebels will distinguish between a EU for force and a French force is naive . It is as much an absurdity to reason that they will either look at the colour and texture of the uniform or the flag , than to expect our blue eyes to inure our troops from enemy fire ; They have declared that they will treat our troops as enemies - there is no ambiguity on the rebel's behalf.
Moreover , and more hideously while the French general in charge of 'Indigenous ' French troops will be based in Chad , the Irish general in charge of the EUfor troops will be based in Paris.

* It is ill judged, based on a supercilious notion of military grandeur associated with our ineffable belief that since our new found wealth we are are masters of European destiny - that our hour has come to show Europe that we are indeed worthy to be considered as equals .
* We seem preoccupied in convincing Europe that we are no longer the feckless indigents of a time we seem obsessed to erase from our collective memory.

We have come a long way since our old fashioned cap-in-handedness ; so much the pity on this account.
We are entering a new and dangerous arena by associating ourselves with former colonialists. We have preserved our independence and mantained our neutrality often against adversity;
It was not universally deemed so ultra noble of Ireland to remain neutral during WW" .
My own late father server with val our as a dentist ; he fought alongside thousands of honorable Irishmen in El Al AAMain .
They returned home often to face hostility from their countrymen who choose to see WW2 as being '' England's difficulty is Ireland 's opportunity.
Needless to say these public house bravadoes were too selfish , introspective , indulgent to care about the deliverance of Europe from the Nazi tyranny. Many of them have spawned a generation of hedonistic idlers , sybarites you couldn't trust to save their own mother's very honor.These same soulless malcontents had the temerity to poke derision and scorn at the returning soldiers.
Houses were marked - cars watched ; movements recorded ;always a lurking cowl of squinting windows ; an ever present threat of implicit terrorism.
And Irishmen did this to their brothers.
It was a travesty that so many more Irishmen sacrificed so mush during WW1 ; in the belief that Ireland would be granted Home Rule in return for Irish soldiers volunteering to serve in British regiments.
The sad Irony about WW1 was that it was purportedly all about the protection of small nations.
Yet here we were on the western reaches of Europe still under British occupation.
An occupation we were trying for generations trying to be rid of.
The perfidiousness of Lloyd George wast vastly underestimated.
Collins saw one way of dealing with oppression and even he was outmaneuvered by the canny Welshman.
But to return to EUfor ;
We will regret this jingoistic blunder.
Our tears and remorse may come much sooner than any expected kudos or scintilla of international admiration.
When the first body bags are brought back we might then reflect on this monstrous miscalculation .