Jailtacht : The Irish Language, Symbolic Power and Political Violence in Northern Ireland, 1972-2008 [1 ed.] 9780708324974, 9780708324967

Citation preview

Jailtacht The Irish Language, Symbolic Power and Political Violence in Northern Ireland, 1972–2008

Diarmait Mac Giolla Chríost

University of Wales Press

Royal cover template.indd 1

17/05/2012 19:08:37

Royal cover template.indd 2

17/05/2012 19:08:37

JAILTACHT

1-Jailtacht prelims.indd 1

04/04/2012 16:14

1-Jailtacht prelims.indd 2

04/04/2012 16:14

JAILTACHT The Irish Language, Symbolic Power and Political Violence in Northern Ireland, 1972–2008 Diarmait Mac Giolla Chríost

UN IV ERSIT Y OF WALES PRESS CARDIFF 2012

1-Jailtacht prelims.indd 3

04/04/2012 16:14

© Diarmait Mac Giolla Chríost, 2012 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any material form (including photocopying or storing it in any medium by electronic means and whether or not transiently or incidentally to some other use of this publication) without the written permission of the copyright owner. Applications for the copyright owner’s written permission to reproduce any part of this publication should be addressed to the University of Wales Press, 10 Columbus Walk, Brigantine Place, Cardiff CF10 4UP. www.uwp.co.uk British Library CIP Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. ISBN 978-0-7083-2496-7 e-ISBN 978-0-7083-2497-4 The right of Diarmait Mac Giolla Chríost to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 79 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. Designed and typeset by Chris Bell Printed by CPI Antony Rowe, Chippenham

1-Jailtacht prelims.indd 4

04/04/2012 16:14

contents

1-Jailtacht prelims.indd 5

List of illustrations

vii

Acknowledgements

xi

1

Introduction

1

2 Chronology

15

3 Style

45

4

Performance

83

5

Visual Grammar 

109

6

Ideology

147

7 Conclusions

179

Notes

185

Bibliography

209



231

Index

04/04/2012 16:14

1-Jailtacht prelims.indd 6

04/04/2012 16:14

List of illustrations Figures Figure 1: Plan of HMP the Maze source: Longwell, 1998: 233 Figure 2: H-Block architecture source: Longwell, 1998: 232 Tables Table 1: List of prisoners in H-5 D wing in December1997 source: http://republican-news.org/archive/1997/December04/04pris.html and http://www.irlnet.com/saoirse/ (accessed 22 February 2009) Table 2: List of prisoners in H-8 D wing in December1997 source: http://republican-news.org/archive/1997/December04/04pris.html and http://www.irlnet.com/saoirse/ (accessed 22 February 2009) Plates Plate 1: Photograph of the Cages source: ‘Prison Struggle’, 1977: 33 Plate 2: Photograph of a ‘Gaeltacht Hut’ source: ‘Prison Struggle’, 1977: 34 Plate 3: Image from a ‘dirty protest’ cell showing clean patches of wall possibly used for Irish lessons source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L965m4GB55c (accessed 12 January 2009) Plate 4: Image of protesting prisoner writing on cell wall source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F4QDHYW7DP8&feature=rela ted (accessed 12 January 2009) Plate 5: Foghlaim na Gaeilge source: Faoi Ghlas ag Gaill, 1981: 6

1-Jailtacht prelims.indd 7

04/04/2012 16:14

viii Jailtacht

Plate 6: Hunger-strikers’ gravestone, 1981 source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Mcelwee_grave.jpg Plate 7: ‘Seabhac’, Glenfada Park / Rossville Street, Derry, c.1983 source: © Tony Crowley and with acknowledgement to the Claremont Colleges Digital Library Plate 8: ‘Ní bheidh síocháin ann gan saoirse’, Shaws Road, Belfast, c.1983 source: © Tony Crowley and with acknowledgement to the Claremont Colleges Digital Library Plate 9: ‘Guth Án Phobail’, Unity Flats, Belfast, c.1983 source: © Tony Crowley and with acknowledgement to the Claremont Colleges Digital Library Plate 10: ‘Mise Éire 1’, Chamberlain Street, Derry, c.1983 source: indymedia http://www.indymedia.ie/attachments/feb2006/mise_ eire.jpg Plate 11: ‘Mise Éire 2’, Chamberlain Street, Derry, c.1983 source: Woods, 1995 Plate 12: ‘Éire saor’, Turf Lodge, Belfast, 1982 source: Stanford Plate 13: ‘Tiocfaidh ár lá 1, Hawthorn Street, Belfast, c.1984 source: Sinn Féin, 1984: 2 Plate 14: ‘Tiocfaidh ár lá 2, Cable Street, Derry, 1984 source: Rolston, 1991: 102 Plate 15: ‘I ndíl chuimhne’, St. James, Road, Belfast, c.1984 source: Rolston, 1992: 39 Plate 16: ‘Loch gCál’, Springhill Avenue, Belfast, 1987 source: © Tony Crowley and with acknowledgement to the Claremont Colleges Digital Library Plate 17: ‘Nuadha’, Springhill Avenue, Belfast, 1987 source: © Tony Crowley and with acknowledgement to the Claremont Colleges Digital Library Plate 18: ‘Bua’, Cable Street, Derry, 1987 source: Rolston, 1991: 108 Plate 19: ‘Fiche blian 1’, Lower Falls, Belfast, c.1989 source: the author Plate 20: ‘Fiche blian 2’, Sevastopol Street /Falls Road, Belfast, c.1989 source: © Tony Crowley and with acknowledgement to the Claremont Colleges Digital Library Plate 21: ‘An Ghaeilge’, Falls Road, Belfast, c.1989 source: © Tony Crowley and with acknowledgement to the Claremont Colleges Digital Library

1-Jailtacht prelims.indd 8

04/04/2012 16:14

list of illustrations ix

Plate 22: ‘Saoirse nó bás’, Carlisle Road, Belfast, c.1989 source: © Tony Crowley and with acknowledgement to the Claremont Colleges Digital Library Plate 23: ‘Tiocfaidh ar la 3’, Springhill Park, Strabane, c.1993 source: Rolston, 1995: 21 Plate 24: ‘Beidh an lá linn’, Rosnareen Road / Shaws Road, Belfast, c.1989 source: © Tony Crowley and with acknowledgement to the Claremont Colleges Digital Library Plate 25: ‘An Gorta Mór’, Ardoyne Avenue, Belfast, c.1995 source: Donnelly pers.comm. Plate 26: ‘The Mass Rock’, Ardoyne Avenue, Belfast, c.1995 source: Donnelly pers.comm. Plate 27: ‘Labhair an teanga Ghaeilge liom’, Ardoyne Avenue, Belfast, c.1995 source: http://peacelinetours.g2gm.com/reviews/mural.jpg Plate 28: ‘Saoirse 1’, New Lodge Road, Belfast, c.1997 source: © Tony Crowley and with acknowledgement to the Claremont Colleges Digital Library Plate 29: ‘Saoirse 2’, New Lodge Road, Belfast, c.1997 source: © Tony Crowley and with acknowledgement to the Claremont Colleges Digital Library Plate 30: ‘Pobal’, Falls Road, Belfast, c. 2002 source: © Tony Crowley and with acknowledgement to the Claremont Colleges Digital Library Plate 31: ‘Labhair cibé Gaeilge atá agat’, Belfast, 2007 source: indymedia http://www.indymedia.ie/article/82963 Plate 32: ‘Is fearr Gaeilge bhriste’, Belfast, 2007 source ‘fionnchu’ http://fionnchu.blogspot.com/2007_12_01_archive.htm Plate 33: ‘Borrokarako’, Belfast source: http://farm1.static.flickr.com/197/476033519_021dd9db7f. jpg?v=0

1-Jailtacht prelims.indd 9

04/04/2012 16:14

1-Jailtacht prelims.indd 10

04/04/2012 16:14

Acknowledgements I am indebted to a number of individuals for their help, sometimes unprompted, during the creation of this book: Neal Alexander, Kristian Brown, Colm Donnelly, Ciarán Dunbar, Roger MacGinty, Feargal Mac Ionnrachtaigh, Seán McConville and Peter Sheridan. I am grateful too for the help of the staff of various organisations: Coiste, the library of the Queen’s University Belfast, the Linen Hall Library Belfast, the Public Record Office Northern Ireland, Ultach Trust, the Hoover Institution Archives at Stanford University, the Robert W. Woodruff Library at Emory University and, of course, all at the School of Welsh, Cardiff University. In addition, I would like to record my thanks to a number of scholarly groups and bodies who provided critical audiences for early presentations on the research that led to this book: the Celtic Studies Colloquium at Harvard University, the Linguistics Forum at the University of Aberystwyth, the Crime Narratives in Context Research Network at Cardiff University, the Ireland-Wales Research Network at Cardiff University, the Welsh Institute of Social and Cultural Affairs at Bangor University, the School of Languages and Linguistics at the University of Melbourne, the School of Irish, Celtic Studies, Irish Folklore and Linguistics at University College, Dublin and Cymdeithas Carnhuanawc. I would also like to thank several individuals and organisations for permission to use various copyright material in this book. Bill Rolston and Associated University Presses for permission to use: Plate 14: ‘Tiocfaidh ár lá’ 2, Cable Street, Derry, 1984 Plate 15: ‘I ndíl chuimhne’, St. James, Road, Belfast, c.1984 Plate 18: ‘Bua’, Cable Street, Derry, 1987 Plate 23: ‘Tiocfaidh ar la 3’, Springhill Park, Strabane, c.1993

Colm Donnelly for permission to use: Plate 25: ‘An Gorta Mór’, Ardoyne Avenue, Belfast, c.1995 (source: Donnelly pers.comm.)

1-Jailtacht prelims.indd 11

04/04/2012 16:14

xii Jailtacht Plate 26: ‘The Mass Rock’, Ardoyne Avenue, Belfast, c.1995 (source: Donnelly pers.comm.)

Wikipedia for permission to use: Plate 6: Hunger-strikers’ gravestone, 1981

Tony Crowley and the Claremont Colleges Digital Library for permission to use: Plate 7: ‘Seabhac’, Glenfada Park / Rossville Street, Derry, c.1983 Plate 8: ‘Ní bheidh síocháin ann gan saoirse’, Shaws Road, Belfast, c.1983 Plate 9: ‘Guth Án Phobail’, Unity Flats, Belfast, c.1983 Plate 16: ‘Loch gCál’, Springhill Avenue, Belfast, 1987 Plate 17: ‘Nuadha’, Springhill Avenue, Belfast, 1987 Plate 20: ‘Fiche blian 2’, Sevastopol Street / Falls Road, Belfast, c.1989 Plate 21: ‘An Ghaeilge’, Falls Road, Belfast, c.1989 Plate 22: ‘Saoirse nó bás’, Carlisle Road, Belfast, c.1989 Plate 24: ‘Beidh an lá linn’, Rosnareen Road/Shaws Road, Belfast, c.1989 Plate 28: ‘Saoirse 1’, New Lodge Road, Belfast, c.1997 Plate 29: ‘Saoirse 2’, New Lodge Road, Belfast, c.1997 Plate 30: ‘Pobal’, Falls Road, Belfast, c. 2002

Dr John L. Murphy for permission to use: Plate 32: ‘Is fearr Gaeilge bhriste’, Belfast, 2007 (source ‘fionnchu’ http://fionnchu.blogspot.com/2007_12_01_archive.htm)

The Guildhall Press for permission to use: Plate 11: ‘Mise Éire 2’, Chamberlain Street, Derry, c.1983

Peaceline Tours for permission to use: Plate 27: ‘Labhair an teanga Ghaeilge liom’, Ardoyne Avenue, Belfast, c.1995

Every effort has been made to contact all copyright holders. Any rights not acknowledged here will be acknowledged in subsequent printings if notice is given to the publisher.

1-Jailtacht prelims.indd 12

04/04/2012 16:14

Tiomnaím an leabhar seo d’Ema

1-Jailtacht prelims.indd 13

04/04/2012 16:14

1-Jailtacht prelims.indd 14

04/04/2012 16:14

1 Introduction Questions of language are basically questions of power.1 [I]n the routine flow of day-to-day life, power is seldom exercised as overt physical force: instead, it is transmuted into a symbolic form, and thereby endowed with a kind of legitimacy that it would not otherwise have.2 Violence, political. Resort to force for political ends, outside its normal use in international warfare or in the internal administration of justice.[…] Terrorism is the paradigm of political violence.3

Context This book is set in the context of the historical ethno-political conflict that occurred in Northern Ireland during the last quarter of the twentieth century, but it is not about it. Rather, it is concerned with a very particular aspect of that conflict, namely the relationship between the Irish language and the paradigm of political violence. In short, the research object at the heart of this book is the emergence of the Irish language amongst Irish republican prisoners and ex-prisoners in Northern Ireland in the period from around 1970 up until today. It would appear that the language emerged from very unpromising conditions. Most republicans claim that they entered prison with very little or no knowledge of the language while, at the same time, the prison authorities operated a ban upon Irish language teaching materials and on the use of the language more generally. Despite this, the prisoners acquired and used the language to such an extent that it became a working language, used exclusively in parts of the prison. These developments gave rise to the popular coinage of the terms ‘Jailic’ and ‘Jailtacht’, deformations of the terms ‘Gaelic (Irish language)’ and ‘Gaeltacht (official Irish-speaking districts of the Republic of Ireland)’. The relationship between the prisoners and the Irish language has affected society outside prison. During the 1980s the language was used by Irish republicans as a tool for the ‘radicalisation’ of community groups; during the 1990s it enabled a shift in the discourse of the Irish republican movement towards political accommodation, and most recently it has been ‘commodified’ by some exprisoners as a product suitable for consumption by visitors keen to experience

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 1

04/04/2012 16:17

2 Jailtacht

‘struggle tourism’. Today, certain ex-prisoners serve as members of Foras na Gaeilge, a statutory body which contributes to the shaping of Irish language public policy. Given the recent political settlement in Northern Ireland, the conflict there is often referred to as an example of the effective management and resolution of deep-rooted political violence, yet despite this the political discourse regarding the Irish language has become increasingly divisive. Recent debates on the floor of the Northern Ireland Assembly regarding the use of the language in the chamber as well as the rhetoric surrounding the campaign for an Irish Language Act in Northern Ireland illustrate this point.4 More recently again, the First Minister of the Northern Ireland Assembly and leader of the Democratic Unionist Party (Peter Robinson) had in mind the politics of the Irish language when he announced plans for a ‘Unionist Academy’ as a means of returning the fight in the increasingly intense cultural war in Northern Ireland: ‘There has been something of a cultural war in Northern Ireland. We intend to fight back’.5 Yet, as I have argued elsewhere, the Irish language has the potential to transcend traditional boundaries in Northern Ireland and be a part of the solution rather than of the problem.6 The question arises – what is the function of the Irish language as acquired, developed and used by Irish republican prisoners and former prisoners in this? This dramatic and complex linguistic phenomenon has yet to be subject to serious academic scrutiny and, as a result, is subject to widespread popular misconceptions and prejudice. Properly understanding it is a matter of some significance; it is my view that the Irish language can be looked upon as the defining symbolic element of the political violence that has shaped the history of Northern Ireland and, to a great extent, the relationship between the UK and the Republic of Ireland. In addition, the matter is of more general importance. Since 9/11 much of the research on contemporary forms of political violence in different parts of the globe is concerned with the symbolic terrain which defines the so-called new terrorism.7 This study of language and political violence delineates that viscous landscape.

Methods In responding to these questions I offer a text that is ambitious with regard to its philosophical and theoretical aims and which, at the same time, is thoroughly grounded in a wealth of empirical data from a variety of sociolinguistic settings. To begin with, I set out to accomplish the following basic aims: • t o describe the means of language acquisition by the prisoners, including specific teaching materials and techniques, and ascertaining the

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 2

04/04/2012 16:17

introduction 3

extent of the possible barriers faced by the prisoners in their acquisition of Irish, including prison policy, the attitudes of other prisoners and conflicting attitudes amongst Irish republican prisoners • t o describe the use of the Irish language by prisoners including, specifically, the reconstruction of the key phrases or language strings developed by the prisoners during the different stages of imprisonment and to identify patterns of use of this formulaic language • t o analyse the impact of the relationship between the (ex)prisoners and their form of Irish on wider society in NI, including its particular linguistic and sociological impact upon the Irish language more generally. In order to achieve these aims, a range of data is subjected to a number of specific modes of enquiry. Amongst the most important data are the results of a series of semi-structured interviews with ex-prisoners who are, or were, important with regard to the Irish language in the Irish republican movement. Initially, contact was made with ex-prisoner organisations including Coiste na nIarchimí, Cumann na Fuiseoige and Tar Abhaile. Coiste na nIarchimí proved to be especially useful in providing a gateway to the network of former Irish republican prisoners and once this gateway had been successfully negotiated it was then possible to gain access to a wide range of former prisoners. As the fieldwork developed it was possible to use the fact of these contacts to legitimise access to other former prisoners who were not necessarily associated with organisations such as Coiste na nIarchimí. In all cases I conducted the interviews myself. This is a very distinctive feature of this research as most other investigators conduct such fieldwork (described as ‘dangerous’8 in the academic literature) by proxy, that is through using the ex-prisoners themselves as researchers. Other academic researchers have used this method because of concerns regarding personal security and also because the republican movement has chosen to make itself not easily accessible to the research community. The conduct of research by proxy reduces the integrity and objectivity of the results as there is a distance between the researcher and the object of research. The interviews were conducted in the language choice of the interviewee, allowing for code-switching between Irish and English. As a result of contacts made during the preliminary fieldwork, I was allowed privileged access to ‘archival’ material on the Irish language held by associates of the Irish republican movement and ex-prisoners’ organisations. These include policy development documents, action research projects and covert teaching materials. In addition, I make considerable use of the autobiographical and biographical accounts of republicans, ex-prisoners

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 3

04/04/2012 16:17

4 Jailtacht

and prison staff as primary and secondary sources of ethnographic material. These sources include, for example, Adams,9 Campbell et al.,10 Longwell,11 McKeown,12 Moen,13 Morrison,14 O’Rawe,15 Ryder16 and Wylie.17 The research includes the pragmatic and stylistic analysis of dramatic reconstructions and literary expressions in Jailic and of the Jailtacht. These include a screenplay for a feature film, the script for a play performed in the theatre, as well other creative writing by the (ex)prisoners. Also, relevant material from the blogs and websites of Irish republican, loyalist and other popular sources are collated and studied. In addition, a series of historical legal cases initiated by Irish republican prisoners against the authorities of HMP the Maze (aka Long Kesh) and HMP Maghaberry are examined. This includes interviews with the solicitors and barristers engaged on these cases. Amongst other interview subjects are external and invited ‘teachers’ of the Irish language of the prisoners held at HMP the Maze. Other linguistic data is derived from the Irish language as it appeared, and indeed continues to appear, in political graffiti and murals in various parts of Northern Ireland during the period of study (much historical material has been collated and presented online via the CAIN conflict archive in the Mural Directory).18 Other extremely useful sources in this regard include the Murals of Northern Ireland Collection at Claremont Colleges Digital Library, the Ciaran MacGowan Collection at Stanford University, the published works of Rolston (various), and the Troubled Images: Posters and Images of the Northern Ireland Conflict CD-ROM collection from the Linen Hall Library, Belfast. I uncovered useful information in official archival materials held at the Public Record Office for Northern Ireland, amongst the ‘grey’ literature of the Republican movement in both English and Irish, for example in the publications An Glór Gafa, Ár nGuth Fhéin, An Phoblacht and Iris, and also in various journalistic sources in the English and the Irish language print media (both the UK and the Republic of Ireland) held in the Political and the Irish Language Collections at the Linen Hall Library. I also draw upon relevant unpublished research by other scholars based in the UK, Ireland and North America, including a number of PhD and other postgraduate dissertations in both English and Irish. Finally, all of this material is supplemented by the results of purposeful visits to the public spaces of the blogs and social network sites of Irish republicans, loyalists and ‘ordinary’ cybercitizens. Structure The substantive content of the book begins with a chapter on the history of the origins and evolution of the relationship between the Irish republican prisoners of the ‘long war’ in Northern Ireland and the Irish language. In this chapter I identify three different phases in this history as follows:

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 4

04/04/2012 16:17

introduction 5

• 1972–1976, Internment • 1976–1981, Protest • 1981–1998, Strategic Engagement. This chapter provides the reader with the detail of the historical narrative that is at the heart of this linguistic phenomenon. The relationships between the principal characters, significant events and main sites are drawn together so that the broad outlines of the story may be readily accessible, thereby enabling the reader to situate the distinctive parts of the linguistic analysis which follows in their appropriate context. The linguistic analysis that builds upon the contextual work in chapter 2 comprises a number of distinctive modes of enquiry. These different analytical approaches are not adopted in order to be intellectually fashionable or to appeal to the widest possible audience but rather because each of them is necessary given the different types of evidence available to this particular case study. The modes I refer to are stylistics, pragmatics, semiotics, and critical discourse analysis and they each occupy a separate analytical chapter in the book. Chapter 3 is concerned with a stylistic analysis of a number of key texts which pertain to Jailic. It appears to me that the properties of the variety of language used by the Irish republicans can be said to be used distinctively and, therefore, to belong to a particular situation. In other words, they use a particular style and their language has a particular context. Using a stylistic approach, as characterised largely by Coupland,19 the particular choices made by certain individuals, and the organisations to which they belong, in their use of language are described and explained. Halliday’s theory of register, and its key concepts ‘field’, ‘tenor’ and ‘mode’, are key elements to this analysis of the relationship between semantic patterns and social context.20 To put it simply – I determine what is taking place, who is taking part and what part the language is playing. In chapter 4 I turn to pragmatics in order to show how the subjects communicate more than that which is explicitly stated. This approach is essential to understanding the relationship between language, symbolic power and political violence for two reasons. Terrorist organisations often have severely limited access to normal means of communication due to the security policy of the authorities in democratic as well as other forms of society. Secondly, they often adopt convoluted channels of communication for their own reasons. Communication, in this case, includes codeswitching, mass communication with the public, communication between terrorist organisations and normal political authorities, communication within terrorist organisations and even the tactical or strategic absence of communication. As Jaworski has shown,21 for example, the analysis of silence is

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 5

04/04/2012 16:17

6 Jailtacht

a critical task in pragmatics. Ambiguity is central to much of the language relating to political violence and the pragmatic approach, with its peculiar sensitivity to the implied meaning of the given idea and to the social forces at play in the construction of meaning, is very useful in teasing out this function of language in this context. Pragmatics also offers a useful theoretical position on performativity. I apply this notion from the work of Butler,22 and Deleuze23 along with Guattari24 or example, to the way in which players in political violence use language to bring certain objects, such as ‘terror’ or ‘freedom’, into being, as it were. That is to say that language is not merely a description of an object but it makes it real. Next, in chapter 5, semiotic methods of analysis are applied to a range of material which encompasses signs and symbols and which combines linguistic, pictoral (e.g. mural) and contextual material (e.g. architecture). In this context, meaning is a multimedia or multimodal construct. Semiotics is the study of sign systems and sign relations and, in this way, extends the definition of language in the widest possible sense. As such I consider it a part of the philosophy of language. This approach is very important to this study as the creation of multimodal material, in the form of political graffiti and murals, illegal street-names, posters etc., is common to all terrorist organisations. Similar material, especially in urban context, is understood in linguistics more generally as ‘semiotic landscape’25 or ‘linguistic landscape’.26 Techniques associated with critical discourse analysis,27 and to a degree meta-ideology, are used in chapter 6. The methods of critical discourse analysis are used so as to scrutinise the case study as a discursive formation. Particular attention is paid to the significance of the notion ‘Gaeltacht’ and the associated term ‘Jailtacht’ in this context. Following Foucault,28 discourse is understood to be an institutionalised way of thinking and that it functions as a type of boundary, defining that which can be said about a specific topic. Two types of institution may be regarded as being central to this work – a movement that espouses political violence on the one hand, and the state on the other. The work of Gramsci29 and Bourdieu30 on hegemony informs the analysis of the relationship between the Irish language in this context and the principal ideological positions at work in the political arena here. This is based upon the premise that attempts to bring about, or to resist, social ideological homogeneity are conducted through the manipulation of language. This chapter includes an analysis of the commodification of the relationship between the Irish language and Irish republicanism, drawing upon the literature on ‘struggle tourism’.31 In the closing chapter of the book, chapter 7, the principal insights perceived with regard to each of the different modes of enquiry are drawn together in order to construct a prisme à thèse through which the complex

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 6

04/04/2012 16:17

introduction 7

connections between language, symbolic violence and political terror may be more universally viewed and understood. In this chapter, in addition to the primary sources, the academic literature on the history and sociology of imprisonment in general32 and Irish republican and paramilitary prisoners33 in particular is drawn upon. Also, the scholarly literature on contemporary forms of asymmetric conflict, its management and resolution – with particular emphasis on the symbolic element in political violence – informs this chapter. The case study presented in this book is used in order to challenge the dominant notion of the ‘new terror’, apparently novel in its sense of scale, its use of new technologies, its manipulation of information and communications media, and in its break with those modernist ideologies (nationalism, Marxism) which characterise the ‘old’ form of terrorism.34 In this context, this case study can be seen as a uniquely linguistic contribution to an emerging critique of the symbolic terrain in the ‘new’ terror35 and as a provocative contribution to the study of language as symbolic violence.36 Ethics The problems of gaining access to criminal justice organisations in Northern Ireland have been noted by a number of researchers.37 Also, the challenges of researching members, or former members, of paramilitary organisations have been explored in the methodological literature on dangerous or difficult fieldwork.38 In this context the use of ‘gatekeepers’39 as a means of gaining access to the research subjects is widely regarded as an important tool. In the fieldwork of other researchers in similar such areas,40 such gatekeepers have been central to the identification of research subjects and, also, in the authentification of the bona fides of the researcher to the research subjects. The researcher’s perceived religious, and thereby broader sociopolitical, affiliation is a factor in the conduct of fieldwork in politically sensitive areas of scholarly activity in Northern Ireland. In the case of this research it is most likely that my name, as the researcher, suggested to the research subjects a Catholic and nationalist background. The research literature on Northern Ireland shows that all individuals in that society subscribe to a welldeveloped system of signs, including personal name, place of birth, school attended, use of language, which variously allow judgements to be made in this regard (whether accurate or otherwise).41 Being identified as either Catholic or Protestant in conducting sensitive research in Northern Ireland may facilitate access to some research subjects but impede access to others.42 In general, this may mean that an academic or professionally affiliated interlocutor may be required in the first place in order to gain access to a gatekeeper for the community of former prisoners. This was not the case in this research.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 7

04/04/2012 16:17

8 Jailtacht

Current practices in research ethics suggest that the written consent of the research subject be obtained. But in the case of the fieldwork behind this book the research subjects were not asked to sign any letters or notes of consent. Indeed, other work in this area has shown that it is most unlikely that any of the research subjects would have allowed themselves to be recorded.43 Instead, the consent to be interviewed was negotiated and confirmed orally or by e-mail with the individual research subject. These interviews were contemporaneously written after the interview. The text arising from the interviews was agreed with the research subjects via e-mail correspondence and the research subject informed of any subsequent use of the research data, including conference presentations, prior to publication. Assurances were given to all interviewees that they would remain anonymous in any publications arising from the research, unless otherwise agreed. All of the interviews are sourced by reference to their professional or political affiliation and the date upon which the interview was held. It is possible to gain some insight into the way in which the Irish republican movement, as a potential and very particular type of research subject community, operates in relation to approaches by researchers. Laurence McKeown, a prominent member of the movement has written a fairly elaborate piece on this subject and it is worth quoting in full: Conducting research into the experiences of republican prisoners and asking them to voluntarily contribute to such a study poses particular difficulties and dilemmas for the researcher. To begin with, the research is conducted within the context of an on-going conflict in the north of Ireland and the prisons have often been a battleground. Republican prisoners regard their imprisonment as an extension of the war they were involved in on the outside and see themselves as existing in conditions of permanent conflict with the prison authorities, even of that conflict is not always manifested in physical form. They have their own command system within the prison with an appointed leadership and remain part of an organisation on the outside, the Irish Republican Army. For the purpose of research it is much easier to get access to exprisoners than those currently imprisoned but because many of the former are reinvolved in political activity on the outside they often regard research and researchers with suspicion. They are generally reluctant to speak openly about their experiences and in certain instances wish to conceal the fact that they were once imprisoned. Because of the nature of their politics and the organisation they belong to any ‘outsider’ approaching them for research purposes is first referred to the Republican Movement for clearance. Should the

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 8

04/04/2012 16:17

introduction 9 movement advise against participation the research ends before it has even begun. In those instances where approval is given to the study the researcher is usually directed towards a number of preselected prisoners or ex-prisoners. This process can be a lengthy one with no guarantee that the people whom the researcher most wants to interview will actually agree to participate. If all of the above obstacles are overcome difficulties can still arise regarding how the interviews are conducted. As with research into other sensitive topics some narrators may prefer to respond only to a number of written questions which they have had the opportunity to study beforehand. They may refuse to speak on tape or be identified in any way. They can be guarded when speaking about events and activities they were involved in within the prison. In some instances legal prosecution could be brought against them if they consciously or otherwise revealed the part they played in various activities such as involvement in the planning or execution of escapes for instance. They can also be wary and concerned that other narrators could compromise their security by inadvertently naming them as being involved in certain activities, or of giving away information that is known to only a few and the revealing of which could adversely affect their comrades still imprisoned. They could inquire as to who would get to read the thesis, who would own the results of the study and if the latter would be published in the media. They could demand that certain conditions be agreed to before speaking to the researcher and that transcripts of their contributions be screened by them or someone in the Republican Movement before final clearance be given for their publication. All of the above are difficulties which the outsider would face when attempting to explore this particularly sensitive area of research.44

Clearly, at some stage I was granted such clearance by the Irish republican movement. Indeed my research would have been impossible without it. It is also the case that the political situation in Northern Ireland is much altered since 1998 and that this may well have had the effect of making the Irish republican family more immediately and directly accessible to researchers such as myself. My own anecdotal impression was that this was the case. Subjectivity In attempting to write something significant about a subject of political potency in Northern Ireland it is almost inevitable that readers will want to know, or will make assumptions about, where the writer is coming from, as it were. In this context staking out a personal position with regard to subjectivity is therefore both an academic and, more broadly speaking, a socio-political imperative.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 9

04/04/2012 16:17

10 Jailtacht

Peering through the labyrinth of subjectivity will always be limited – a sideways glance, an incomplete viewing – but having accepted the necessity of the task one can but point the reader in a certain direction and leave them to make their own informed judgement, however partial. Plato’s imagined dialogue between his teacher Socrates and his brother Glaucon, ‘The Simile (or Allegory) of the Cave’, is often used, including by some protagonists of postmodernism,45 to explain our subjectivity. His point is a simple one, which is that the usual human condition is to fail to perceive reality and to believe indirect and imperfect representations of it instead: [Socrates] ‘I want you to go on to picture the enlightenment or ignorance of our human condition as follows. Imagine an underground chamber like a cave, with a long entrance open to the daylight and as wide as the cave. In this chamber are men who have been prisoners there since they were children, their legs and necks being so fastened that they can only look straight ahead of them and cannot turn their heads. Some way off, behind and higher up, a fire is burning and between the fire and the prisoners and above them runs a road, in front of which a curtain-wall has been built, like the screen at puppet shows between the operators and the audience, above which they show their puppets.’ [Glaucon] ‘I see.’ ‘Imagine further that there are men passing along the wall carrying all sorts of gear along behind the curtain-wall, projecting above it and including figures of men and animals made of wood and stone and all sorts of other materials, and that some of these men, as you would expect, are talking and some not.’ ‘An odd picture and an odd sort of prisoner.’ ‘They are drawn from life, I replied. ‘For, tell me, do you think our prisoners could see anything of themselves or their fellows except the shadows thrown by the fire on the wall of the cave opposite them?’ ‘How could they see anything but the shadows if they were prevented from moving their heads all their lives?’ ‘And would they see anything more of the objects carried along the road? ‘Of course not.’ ‘Then if they were able to talk to each other, would they not assume that the shadows they saw were real things?’ ‘Inevitably.’ ‘And if the wall of their prison opposite them reflected sound, don’t you think that they would suppose, whenever one of the passers-by on the road spoke, that the voice belonged to the shadow passing before them?’ ‘They would be bound to think so.’

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 10

04/04/2012 16:17

introduction 11 ‘And so in every way they would believe that the shadows of the objects were the whole truth.’ ‘Yes, inevitably.’46

It is not necessary to agree with Plato’s assumption that the most enlightened are able to escape the illusion of reality that is bound by the cave. The philosophical tension between subjectivity and objectivity remains as potent as ever it was – none, it would seem, has escaped the cave as yet. However, the allegory powerfully illustrates our partial view of reality. As a native of Derry (or Londonderry, but then most natives of the city from my generation, whether Catholic or Protestant, nationalist or unionist, republican or loyalist, are more familiar with the common use of Derry rather than Londonderry) in Northern Ireland I have a personal and intimate, but not unique, acquaintance with political violence and its effects. It is true to say that as a youth I was the subject of at least twenty sectarian attacks by groups or gangs of youths from both sides of the political divide (being in the wrong place at the wrong time is more than sufficient reason to be subject to attack, proof of identity is simply not required). A number of family members, friends, acquaintances and colleagues were assaulted, injured or killed by sectarian gangs and military and paramilitary organisations from both sides of the political divide. My father’s family is from Claudy and was intimate with the victims of the notorious car-bombing of this small, rural village in south County Derry in 1972. I often heard their names – McElhinney, McCluskey, Eakin, McLaughlin, Connolly, Hone, Miller, McClelland and Temple – roughly hewn in the colloquial Ulster tongue of my father and his father too. Also, I was witness to, in the flesh as it were, intimidation, explosions, collapsing buildings, riots and, on one occasion, the shooting to death of a British soldier on the street in broad daylight. I lived with the mundane oppressions of paramilitary and military policing – checkpoints, searches, questioning, helicopter searchlights, sudden armed visits. One of my earliest and most unsettling memories is of my mother explaining to me how my father had been ‘spotted’, by two members of the Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC) trained in this craft, in the crowd during the tumultuous events which eventually culminated in the deaths of thirteen men on the streets of Derry in 1972. Due to their proximity to those events, these RUC officers were required to give evidence at the Bloody Sunday Inquiry47 in 2002. Both of the officers were related to my father through marriage; one of them is an uncle to me. Until his death, my father kept the copy of The Derry Journal published in the aftermath of Bloody Sunday, replete with page after page of black and white images of coffins. The family went many years without seeing my uncle, and it wasn’t until the occasion of my father’s funeral that I finally met the other RUC man.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 11

04/04/2012 16:17

12 Jailtacht

From an early age the Irish language was a feature of this personalised landscape of political violence. At the beginning of ‘the troubles’ or ‘the long war’, when I was a small child, my family lived in an overwhelmingly Protestant housing estate. Subsequent to one of our holidays in the Donegal Gaeltacht, we returned to our house, to find that our home had been assaulted through stoning. The warning was heeded. We showed little public interest in Irish after that and moved house again before long. A schooling through the state educational system ensured the invisibility of the Irish language until at secondary school, when the head teacher introduced a few lessons on Irish language place-names. These lessons were met with much resistance from my classmates. Irish was absolutely not a welcome part of their world. Then, when I was a student at the Queen’s University Belfast, my former school-friends were variously unsettled and shocked to learn that I was studying Irish. Of course, the language was first drawn into politics there by loyalist paramilitaries: [L]oyalist paramilitaries seemed to take a malevolent interest in Irishspeakers. In the 1970s three attacks (two of which included bombs) were made on Queen’s Celtic Department. The third attack was so serious that in 1973 the Department scattered its staff throughout the Faculty of Arts, so that loyalists would not have a single target to attack. This diaspora lasted until 1976, yet to this day the Celtic Department does not have a name plaque on the outside of the building in which it is housed.48

The Irish language department was an interesting place to be in the 1980s. By that time it was home to some of the first children brought up in the Shaw’s Road neo-Gaeltacht, to some ex-Irish republican prisoners and former learners of Irish in HMP the Maze, as well as to a substantial part of the first youthful cohort of an emergent Sinn Féin. Upon graduation I did not stay in Belfast, nor even Northern Ireland, but instead exiled myself to Wales and acquired the Welsh language. By now I live by far the greater part of my personal and professional life through Welsh. My wife and children all speak Welsh as their first language. We live in ‘y Fro Gymraeg’, the historical Welsh-speaking heartland. I teach, administrate, broadcast, research and write in Welsh. Thus, the Welsh language is a critical point of reference for me in many ways. Most importantly, it has allowed me to look with fresh eyes upon the Irish language in Northern Ireland. Thus, my experiences allow for a certain combination of engagement and distance, although I do not believe that I have somehow managed to escape from Plato’s cave; rather I have simply adjusted my vision. Plato’s allegory of prisoners held in chains underground, at a remove from the real world, resonates powerfully with regard to the language story I have to tell in this book. But perhaps I might in addition refer the reader to the

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 12

04/04/2012 16:17

introduction 13

notion of the cave in Irish folk tradition as a transformative space, sometimes horrific, at other times alluring and life-enhancing, a place of exile from which a traveller might well return but to a world much changed, or perhaps with his perception of the world much changed. A version of such a folktale was collected in Ulster in the 1980s from Charles McGlinchey in Donegal: Round the face of Binnion Hill there’s a cave, and nobody knows how far in it goes. Long ago a piper went in there to find out where it led to or what was in it. He arranged with his friends that he would keep playing and they could listen above the ground and find out the direction the cave went. They traced him with the playing of the pipes till he was over under lower Annagh. The tune he was playing was:

Béidh na cailíní óga ina seanmhná Sul a bhfille mé, sul a bhfille mé. Béidh na huain óga ina seanchaoraigh, Nuair a thiocfas mise arais. (The young girls will be old women Before I return, before I return. The young lambs will be old sheep Before I come back again.)49 I recall from my childhood a very similar tale regarding a cave in the hillside behind Ardmore, Cullion in County Tyrone in Northern Ireland (a place where some of my family may still be found). In this case the piper never returned but yet, it was said, could often be heard many years later still playing his music deep underground. And here I am too – underground.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 13

04/04/2012 16:17

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 14

04/04/2012 16:17

2 Chronology One of the long-standing objects of the IRA constitution is ‘to promote the revival of the Irish language as the everyday language of the people’.1 Long Kesh prison camp […] is regarded in a very particular manner by the nationalist people (if not also the loyalist community) of the north of Ireland. To them it is synomymous with […] the revival of the Irish language.2

Introduction The revival of the Irish language was a constitutional aim of the IRA. It was not, however, an aspiration which the organisation was to realise in the field in Northern Ireland but rather in prison, although the impact of these Irishspeaking prisoners was eventually felt far beyond the walls of their cells. In this chapter the mechanics of the acquisition of the language by Irish republican prisoners along with their linguistic behaviours and practices from 1972 is looked at. Thus, the reader is taken through the different phases in this history: • 1972–1976, Internment • 1976–1981, Protest • 1981–1998, Strategic Engagement. The aim is that this chapter provide the reader with the bare bones of the historical narrative that is at the core of this study in language and political violence. In highlighting in a descriptive manner the connections between the main characters, the most significant events and the principal locations, I hope to allow the reader to put the linguistic analyses of the subsequent chapters into their appropriate historical, geographical and sociological context. 1972–1976, Internment During the early years of the conflict in Northern Ireland around 2,0003 Irish republicans were imprisoned at HMP Long Kesh (popularly known as ‘the Cages’ by Irish republicans), a complex of ex-British Army Nissan huts located beyond the south-western hinterland of the city of Belfast (Plate 1). In the period between 1972 and 1976 the prisoners, whether interned without trial

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 15

04/04/2012 16:17

16 Jailtacht

or imprisoned following conviction in court, were subject to Special Category Status. This meant that they were allowed to wear their own clothes, to freely associate with each other, to not do prison work, to receive food and other parcels from a regular stream of visitors and generally to organise themselves according to their membership of various paramilitary groups.

Plate 1: Photograph of the Cages source: ‘Prison Struggle’, 1977: 33

In this period the Irish republican prisoners organised Irish language classes for themselves as part of a curriculum which included a broad range of activities. The views of Séanna Walsh (aka Séanna Breatnach/Breathnach and Sid Walsh), now a prominent member of Sinn Féin and a former leader of Irish republican prisoners, accurately reflect the motivations of those prisoners who had an interest in the language at that time. It can be deduced that he first acquired the Irish language in school in Belfast and in the Donegal Gaeltacht, like many others in Northern Ireland, but upon imprisonment, he quickly became aware of the ideological significance of the language for Irish republicanism and set about becoming fluent in Irish. He describes this in the Irish republican magazine An Phoblacht: I first got an interest in Irish in primary school and developed it at secondary school. I was in Loch an Iúir Gaeltacht in Donegal when Internment erupted across the North. Within 18 months I found myself in prison, in the Cages of Long Kesh. I dived into the language with a passion. It was clear to me at a fairly early stage that the Irish language was much more than a medium of communication, that wrapped up in it was the history of conflict and dispossession, genocide and emigration.4

Irish republican sources dating to the early 1970s indicate how the prisoners acquired the Irish language at that time. It would appear that during this

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 16

04/04/2012 16:17

Chronology 17

particular period they learned the language in what one could reasonably describe as an unremarkable classroom format, including the use of commercially produced teaching materials. Based upon uncited interviews with former Irish republican prisoners, the American sociologist O’Hearn incidentally implies that the Irish language lessons were rather conservative: Billy McKee appointed his closest friend, Prionsius MacAirt, to travel around the cages and keep an eye on organization and morale. A committed Irish-speaker, as Mac Airt went around, he taught Irish in classes of five to seven students. Mac Airt taught the students classical Irish, using the old script rather than the Roman alphabet. The Irish language really took off when two Irish-speakers from the south [the Republic of Ireland] arrived in the cage and began teaching classes.5

Also, they adopted the badges of the Gaelic League (aka Conradh na Gaeilge, a movement founded in the late nineteenth century in Ireland with the aim of promoting the Irish language. It later became implicated in the Irish republican Easter Rising of 1916). These were to be worn by individuals as an indicator of their level of fluency in the language: Tharla i Mi Mheithimh ’73 gur cuireadh fir le deich mbliana agus breis i gcasanna nua a raibh cillini iontu. Agus tar eis chupla seachtain eile bogadh sinne isteach i gceann amhain diobh. I mi bhi ceithre chas nua de ‘Provos’ in aice a cheile … Bhailigh siad ina dhiaidh sin ainmeacha daoine arbh ail leo an Ghaeilge a fhoghlaim. Shocair me feidhm a bhaint aisti aris. Bhi se ni b’fhearr an sa Chroimghlinn, bhi cailc, clair dhubha, leabhair agus mar sin againn. Tar eis doibh na hainmneacha a bhailiu bhi triocha ceann acu agus bheartaigh siad Gaeltacht a bhunu. An Luan ud cuireadh in iul domh an rang a raibh me mar dhalta ann. Ni raibheamar ach se seachtain ag obair go dti go ndeachamar leis an fhainne ghlas a bhaint amach, ar gcead fhainne. Bhain muid amach e agus tugadh fainni duinn le caitheamh inar gcotai. Bhi athas an domhain orm seo a fhail.6 (It happened in June ’73 that men with ten years and more were sent to the new Cages with cells in them. And after a couple more weeks we were moved into one of them. In a month there were four new Cages of ‘Provos’ [provisional IRA] adjacent to each other … After that they collected names of people who wanted to learn Irish. I took advantage of this again. It was better than in the Crumlin, we had chalk, blackboards, books and so on. After they collected the names there were thirty of them and they decided to establish a Gaeltacht. That Monday I was informed of the class that I was to be

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 17

04/04/2012 16:17

18 Jailtacht a pupil in. We weren’t working for more than six weeks until we got the Fainne Glas [sic], our first Fainne [sic]. We got it and wore it on our coats. I was over the moon at getting it.)

Several contemporary and other later sources claim that the prisoners created a ‘Gaelic hut’ or ‘Gaeltacht huts’ where the Irish language was to be dominant (Plate 2) but it is clear from the Irish republican prison source Prison Struggle that such a Gaeltacht was largely made up of learners of the language, many of whom had very limited competence in the language. That said, the cages were important sites of Irish language learning for Irish republicans such as Séanna Walsh: ‘There were Gaeltacht huts in the cages, during the early 1970s. Proinsias Mac Airt (aka Francis/Frank Card and Frankie Cards) taught Irish to me then. I had some, very limited Irish from school, a few words’ (Interview with the author 2007).

Plate 2: Photograph of a ‘Gaeltacht Hut’ source: ‘Prison Struggle’, 1977: 34

It is asserted in Prison Struggle7 that there was a Gaeltacht in each of the Cages but other, mostly later sources (including interviews with ex-prisoners), confirm only the certain existence of two Gaeltacht huts, namely Cages 11 and 17, with sleeping accommodation for around twenty in each half-hut. Mac Ionnrachtaigh8 elicited accounts of the language ethos and activities in these Cages from some ex-prisoners. For example, Cage 11 is described in the following terms by Liam Ó Maolchluiche: Cuireadh an bhéim uilig ar an Ghaeilge; bhí muid sáite intí. Bhí ranganna ar siúl ar fud an lae ar pholaitíocht, litríocht, gnéithe eile den teanga agus rinneadh uilig iad trí mheán na Gaeilge. Gheall muid do dhaoine úra go mbeidís líofa taobh istigh de sé mhí. Ní raibh cead againn amharc ar theilifís Béarla nó éisteacht le ráidio Béarla.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 18

04/04/2012 16:24

Chronology 19 Má bhris tú na rialacha nó má labhair tú Béarla cuireadh amach as an Ghaeltacht thú agus bheadh liosta mór daoine ag fanacht le d’áit a ghlacadh.9 (All the emphasis was on the Irish language; we were immersed in it. There were classes throughout the day on politics, literature, other aspects of language and all of this was through the medium of Irish. We promised newcomers that they’d be fluent inside six months. We weren’t allowed to look at English language television or radio. If you broke the rules or if you spoke English you were excluded from the Gaeltacht and there was a big list of people waiting to take your place.)

The Irish language activity in Cage 17 is similarly described by Gearóid Mac Siacais (aka Jake Mac Siacais or Jake Jackson), another ex-prisoner, as follows: Ar na ballaí adhmaid sna botháin, bhí na Briathra Neamhrialta scríofa i litreacha ollmhóra; d’fhoghlaim tú de ghlánmheabhair iad mar chuid den bhunrang. Ina dhiaidh sin, chláraigh tú le meánrang, bhog tú ansin go dtí an t-ardrang agus ansin chuig an ‘treasrang’. Thaispeáin an ‘treasrang’ go raibh forbairt déanta agat agus go raibh tú réidh le dul i dtreo na Gaeltachta. Bhí cnámharlach na teanga agat, ní raibh de dhíth anois ach líofacht labhartha. Mhol an múinteoir thú ach bhí liosta féithimh i gcónaí ann.10 (The Irregular Verbs were written on the wooden walls of the huts in huge letters; you learned these by heart as a part of the basic class. After that, you joined the middle class, then you went to the higher class and then to the ‘treasrang’. The ‘treasrang’ showed that you’d developed and that you were ready to go into the Gaeltacht. You had the bare bones of the language. All you needed now was oral fluency. The teacher praised you but there was always a waiting list.)

One of these Gaeltacht huts, Cage 11, appears to have been particularly important as a focal point for a cohort of future leaders of the Irish republican movement. It was known by the Irish republican prisoners as ‘the generals’ hut’. Cage 11 was home to a number of individuals who subsequently became central figues in the Irish republican struggle against the British state, both inside and outside of the prison. Amongst their numbers were Bobby Sands (aka Roibeard Ó Seachnasaigh, Roibeard Mac Sandair and Marcella), who would subsequently lead the fatal hunger strike of 1981; Gerry Adams (aka Gearóid Mac Adaimh and Brownie), who would go on to lead Sinn Féin to government in the Assembly in Northern Ireland; and Séanna Walsh, who would become a key figure in the story of the Irish language in Long Kesh. Feldman,

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 19

04/04/2012 16:17

20 Jailtacht

an American anthropologist conducting fieldwork in Belfast during the late 1980s, referred to the existence of Gaeltacht huts at Long Kesh in his book of 1991, along with the use of the term Jailtacht by the Irish republican prisoners: The compound huts were self-governing communities. Political prisoners had little contact with prison staff. All prison administration–prisoner interaction was mediated by the paramilitary officer commanding each hut. Within the compound, military hierarchies and ranks prevailed. This social structure replicated and intensified the paramilitary social structure on the outside. The Republican compounds engaged in extensive political and military education – training programs. Most noteworthy were the Gaeltacht or Jailtacht huts, dormitories where only Gaelic was spoken. Prisoners resided permanently in the Gaeltacht huts.11

Feldman is, of course, mistaken in this regard. To use the term Jailtacht in relation to the Gaeltacht huts is anachronistic. The term, as we shall see, was not coined in the Cages of Long Kesh during the 1970s but rather in a very different sort of prison during the 1980s. 1976–1981, Protest On 1 March 1976 the particular prison world of the Cages was brought to an end as the British government implemented a new policy direction aimed at breaking the IRA’s campaign of political violence, and the prisons in which Irish republican prisoners were held were to be a crucial part of that initiative. The end of Special Category Status for all prisoners convicted after that date signified an attempt by the British government to ‘criminalise’ the Irish republican prisoners and the Irish republican movement generally. From 1 April 1980 Special Category Status was removed from all prisoners regardless of the date of their conviction. Their resistance to this process of ‘criminalisation’, along with the opening of a set of new H-shaped prison buildings at the site (renamed HMP the Maze by the British government but still known as Long Kesh by the prisoners themselves) based upon a cellular design (Figures 1 and 2), enormously altered the situation. The source for the images reproduced here of the plans for this new prison is an unpublished thesis by a former assistant governor (prison warder, or ‘screw’) at HMP the Maze. The ‘Restricted’ stamp, indicating the highly sensitive nature of the material to which Longwell12 had privileged access, appears very clearly on the first of these figures. In response to this change of direction in British government prison policy the prisoners (at around this stage there was a total of approximately 400 Irish republican prisoners in HMP the Maze, around 380 of which were claimed by the IRA as their members)13 embarked upon on a series of protests – beginning in September

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 20

04/04/2012 16:17

Chronology 21

1976 with a refusal to wear prison uniform (the blanket protest), escalating in March 1978 with a refusal to slop-out the cells (the dirty protest) and culminating in two sets of hunger strikes which were held during 1980 and 1981. The first set of hunger strikes (October to December 1980) had very little political impact but the impact of the second was enormous.

Figure 1: Plan of HMP the Maze source: Longwell, 1998: 233

Figure 2: H-Block architecture source: Longwell, 1998: 232

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 21

04/04/2012 16:17

22 Jailtacht

The second set of hunger strikes began in March 1981 and ended in October of the same year. During its course, three of the twenty-three hunger strikers died and three of the prisoners (two of whom were on hunger strike, with the other on the blanket protest) were elected to the British and Irish parliaments. The first and by far the most dramatic election was that of Bobby Sands as MP for Fermanagh/South Tyrone (Northern Ireland) in April 1981. This was followed in June 1981 by the election of Kieran Doherty as TD (Teachta Dála – Member of the Irish Parliament) for Cavan/Monaghan (Republic of Ireland) and of Paddy Agnew (on the blanket protest) as TD for Louth (Republic of Ireland). According to many of the prisoners the events of this period of protest marked a very significant turning point for the Irish language in prison. Laurence McKeown, ex-Irish republican prisoner (H-2 and H-6) and ex-hunger striker, recalls that the new conditions in the ‘protesting wings’ of the H-Blocks (confined to H-5 to begin with but by 1979 there were several ‘protesting blocks’)14 meant that the prisoners were now confined to their cells (in pairs or in solitary confinement) under 24-hour lock-up and they were denied access to any Irish language material – there were no books, no chalk, no blackboard, no classrooms: As more and more republican prisoners were sentenced [subsequent to the removal of Special Category Status on 1 March 1976] they followed the example of Kieran Nugent [the first Irish republican prisoner to challenge the new prison regime of ‘criminalisation’] and refused to wear the prison uniform or do prison work. Their numbers in the early days were still small, however, and they felt very vulnerable. A very strict regime was imposed by the guards and prison authorities in an attempt to break the protest. The prisoners had nothing in their cells except cell furniture, a Bible and the prison uniform which they refused to wear. They had no cigarettes, radio, TV, papers, books, magazines, pens, nothing. They were not even allowed to communicate to one another. Anyone caught doing so was assaulted by the prison guards. Neither were they allowed to speak to the conforming prisoners who were held in the same wing. A regime of ‘silence’ was strictly imposed.15

Despite the initial ‘regime of silence’,16 it was this change of prison policy and the prisoners’ response to it which brought the language to the forefront of the Irish republican struggle inside prison. As another of the prisoners (Jackie McMullan) recalls, the rapid increase in the number of protesting prisoners (perhaps as many as several hundred) contributed to the erosion, in practice if not as a matter of policy, of this regime: The increase in our numbers meant greater contact with the ordinary prisoners, which led to more cigarettes and a greater flow of scéal

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 22

04/04/2012 16:17

Chronology 23 [lit. ‘story’ but meaning ‘news’ or simply ‘gossip’]. Our confidence also began to grow at this time and we spent more and more time talking to each other, down at the pipes and even out the doors. It was harder for the screws to handle the increased numbers, and the less committed among them became less diligent in enforcing the countless petty rules.17

It is possible to gain an impression of how lessons were now conducted from various sources, but always in the prisoners’ own words. The obstacles to normal adult second language acquisition were overcome in a number of ways. For example, the ban on Irish language material was undermined with some external help. Those prisoners still with Special Category Status, housed in the Cages adjacent to the H-blocks, helped those learners of Irish in the H-Blocks through smuggling Irish language material to them, often through Catholic priets. One such prisoner, Liam Ó Maolchluiche in interview with Mac Ionnrachtaigh, recalls the practice: Ní raibh aghaidheanna ar bith nua ag teacht isteach sna cásanna agus d’éirigh an saol cinéal leadránach agus uaigneach. Mhothaigh muid iontach neamhchumhachtach agus an streachailt in éadan coirpeachta ag dul chun donais sna blocanna … Chuir muidne ceachtanna Gaeilge chucu fríd na sagairt le spiorad s’acu a thógáil, go háirithe nuair nach raibh áiseanna ar bith ag muintir na pluide … Bheadh orainn a bheith dearfa cinnte gur Gaeilge beacht, foirfe a bhí ann ar eagla gur scaip muid meáncóga thart ar na blocanna. Taithí maith a bhí ann agus chuidigh sé le Gaeilge s’againn.18 (No new faces at all were coming into the Cages and life there became rather boring and lonely. We felt particularly powerless with the struggle against criminalisation worsening in the Blocks … We sent Irish language lessons to them through the priests in order to raise their spirits, especially as the blanket protesters had no facilities at all … We would have to be really certain that it was exactly perfect Irish in case we disseminated mistakes [i.e. faulty Irish] throughout the blocks. It was a great experience and it helped our own Irish.)

The inability to freely associate and thereby conduct language classes for the teaching and learning of Irish was overcome in a number of ways. These lessons were led by those, such as Bobby Sands, Séanna Walsh and Gearóid Mac Siacais, who were regarded as having a greater command of the language: The teaching of the Irish language is one example of how prisoners developed an informal system of education during the years of the

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 23

04/04/2012 16:17

24 Jailtacht blanket protest in which the ‘pupil’ became the ‘teacher’ once he had arrived at a particular level of competence. No one had to be fully qualified according to some previously set criterion; all that was required was that those more advanced than others passed on what they knew and attempted to raise others up to their standard whilst simultaneously trying to acquire a higher standard themselves. The same applied to other knowledge that people acquired, be it about economics, socialism or history but it was in the teaching of the Irish language that the principle was most apparent.19

Séanna Walsh puts it in his own words as follows: ‘theagasc daoine le Gaeilge mheasartha daoine le beagán Gaeilge agus theagasc daoine le beagán Gaeilge daoine gan Gaeilge ar bith agus d’fhás sé mar sin cé nach raibh ach dornán beag daoine ag an bharr le Gaeilge líofa acu’.20 (People with a moderate amount of Irish would teach those with a little Irish and those with a little Irish would teach those without any Irish at all and it grew like that even though at the start only a small handful of people were fluent in Irish]. The teacher would shout out the lesson from behind his cell door for the benefit of those learning Irish on that particular wing. This is how it worked, in the words of Séanna Walsh again: The key turning point was the removal of political status. During the blanket protest the Irish language became the language of resistance. Irish was necessary for survival. At that time there were four or five who were very good at Irish and they taught the language to the others. This started with the learning of key phrases. These would be shouted through the doors of the cells or they would be scratched onto the walls with religious medals (Interview with the author 2007).

According to some sources there was a fairly rigorous routine to the teaching and learning of Irish with lessons occurring at set times of the day and being of a certain length and organised according to the particular levels of ability in the language of the learners. For example, one ex-prisoner described the lessons in the following terms in an interview conducted in the late 1980s by Feldman: In the Blocks the main way you communicated was shouting out the doors. So that was one of the reasons that the Gaelic became so prominent was that you had no way of communicating except by shouting out the door in Gaelic … The way we learned it was that a fellow got up and shouted the lesson out the door, the spelling of the words. It was just a methodical thing. You had a set of

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 24

04/04/2012 16:17

Chronology 25 rosary beads, a screw, or a nail, and you scratched the lesson on the walls which were whitewashed. The beginners’ class was on Monday, Wednesday, Friday between 12:00 and 1:00 pm. Tuesdays and Thursdays from about 3:00 to 5:00 you had advanced classes, and on a Sunday from 12:00 to 2:00 pm you had the class for the teachers, where the teachers all got together and improved each other’s Gaelic. At the end of the week you would set aside a day of storytelling, and then I done the history, Irish history all done in Gaelic from the head.21

Gearóid Mac Siacais, who was sent to the H-Blocks halfway through 1977, describes his own role in the initiation of the acquisition of the Irish language in the H-Blocks as follows: Thosaigh dream beag againn ag beartú pleananna agus muid ar athchur i mBóthar Chroimghlinne. Bhí taithí na gcásanna againn agus shocraigh muid eagar a chur ar mhuintir na mblocanna i bhfoirm ranganna oideachais. Úsáideadh an pholaitíocht le meon cogaidh a spreagadh agus an Ghaeilge le spiorad agus féinaithne a thógáil … Dúshlán ollmhór a bhí ann de bhrí go raibh muid faoi ghlas sna cillíní an lá ar fad gan áiseanna ar bith. Bhí ‘scairteoir’ in achan sciathán agus scairteadh seisean na ranganna amach an doras i bpróiseas fadálach foghraíochta. Thosaigh an Ghaeilge ar bhonn slándála agus chríochnaigh sé mar theanga labhartha na mblocanna … Bhí an dul chun cinn dochreidte ar fad, déanta na fírinne. Ag an tús, ní raibh ach seachtar nó ochtar de bhunadh na gcásanna le Gaeilge; i ndiaidh bliain go leith bhí 300 cimí le Gaeilge ar a dtoil.22 (A small crew of us started drawing up plans while on remand in Crumlin Road. We had experience of the Cages and we decided to organise the people in the Blocks into education classes. Politics was used to incite a combative mentality and Irish was used to build morale and identity … It was an enormous challenge because we were confined to our cells throughout the day without any facilities at all. A ‘scairteoir’ [lit. ‘shouter’] in each wing and they would should the classes out through their cell door in a slow, phonetic manner. The Irish language started as a basis for security but ended up as the spoken language of the Blocks … The progress was really incredible, truth be known. At the start, there were no more than seven or eight with Irish from the Cages; within eighteen months there were 300 prisoners fluent in Irish.)

Peader Whelan describes his learning process from complete beginner to fluency as follows:

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 25

04/04/2012 16:17

26 Jailtacht When I joined the Blanket protest in H3 in 1978, I had no Irish. There were no ranganna in the wing where I was placed and, while a few men already there had some very basic Irish, they did not have enought to teach it … However, not long after I joined the Blanket, Eunan Brolley from Dungiven came onto our wing. He had spent his remand in the Cages where, with the organisation of ranganna and the access to books that the conditions provided, the tradition of speaking and promoting Irish was stronger. Eunan had Irish before coming to jail and he used his time in the Cages to improve his command of the language … We began with the verb ‘to be’ learning it bit by bit and hoping not to get mixed up with the tenses when the múinteoir [teacher] asked us about it. Our ranganna were conducted by calling to each other out the door – so any mistakes were very public, adding to the pressure. Needless to say, ranganna were organised with the minimum of equipment … Lacking pen and paper … we wrote with a piece of toothpaste tube on the formicatopped table in the cell – the lead tubing was just like a pencil and brilliant for writing. The main drawback, though, was the fact that our only resource was the Irish that Eunan Brolly had in his head. He did have a fair amount and could confer and cross-check with the múinteoirí in the other wings, but the refusal by the prison administration to provide any educational materials imposed severe constraints in those early days.23

Kevin Campbell, interviewed in a book compiled by a group of ex-prisoners, confirms that, in the absence of normal writing materials, the cell walls were used for the writing down of the basic content of some lessons: [I]n every wing the ranganna Gaeilge [lit. ‘Irish classes’ but meaning ‘Irish lessons’] were organised. Men who had acquired the language, either in the Cages or in school, took the classes. Since we had no writing materials, we had to write the ranganna [lit. ‘classes’ but meaning ‘lessons’] on the cell walls. We would keep a patch of the wall clean to write on and, using a broken piece of a liberated toothpaste tube, we would scratch the Gaeilge on the walls. Within a year [during 1978] Irish became the first language within the Blocks. All the news and business was given out the doors in Gaeilge [Irish].24

The contemporaneous writings of Bobby Sands provide a more immediate account of the conduct of such a lesson: I went back to my pacing once again as one of the boys shouted Rang anois [lit. ‘class now’], summoning the lads to their doors for an Irish language class. The teacher was at the far end of the wing.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 26

04/04/2012 16:17

Chronology 27 He began to shout out the lessons at the top of his voice from behind his heavy steel door, asking questions, spelling out words and phrases, while the willing pupils scratched and scribbled them upon the dirty, mutilated walls. It was a rough and rugged way of teaching but it worked, and everyone endeavoured to speak what they learned all the time until the words and phrases became so common that they were used instinctively. The Irish class continued in the background as I returned to my thoughts.25

Of course, during the ‘dirty protest’ the prisoners spread their own excrement on the walls of their cells so it was necessary to keep an area, or areas, of the walls clean for the writing down of the ‘ranganna’. Mac Siacais: ‘Dá mhéad na constaicí inár n-éadan, is amhlaidh is mó diongbháilteacht a thaispeáin muid … choinnigh muid bloc cearnógach glan ó shalachar ag bun an chillín ar mhaithe le nótaí Gaeilge’.26 (However great the obstacles against us, the fact is that we showed that we were even more steadfast … we kept a square block clear of excrement at the lower end of the cell for Irish language notes). Another prisoner of that period, Brendan ‘Bik’ McFarlane (leader of the Irish republican prisoners following Bobby Sands), recalled in an interview first published in the Irish current affairs magazine Magill in 1986 that different spaces of the filthy cell walls were used for discrete linguistic units: The prisoners shouted to each other from cell to cell, passing information, learning Irish, and so on. They sang and played quizzes to keep their spirits up; they had reckoned that it was going to be a short protest. Towards the end of 1978, forced washes and hair cuts were being introduced. Brendan McFarlane resisted and got a busted eye. As the men in the H-Blocks began to be moved from cell to cell, they were learning [Irish] from the writing on the wall. For example, the past tense of an Irish verb might be on one wall, the future tense on another and the present tense on another – Jailic, they called it! In the beginning, they scratched out. Later on, they were written in shit.27

Richard O’Rawe (aka ‘Rick’ and ‘Ó Rathaigh’), another prominent Irish republican prisoner during the late 1970s and early 1980s and a member of the IRA, recalls in his autobiographical work how he had similarly used such a linguistic space in his cell. This was in July 1981, in the middle of the second hunger strike, and he was sharing the cell at that time with Colm Scullion: ‘[…] I turned towards the wall. The names of birds in Irish were written on the wall; strikingly, there was Bobby’s favourite bird, the lark, or fuiseóg’.28 Images depicting the interiors of the cells of protesting Irish republican prisoners from the Granada TV documentary entitled The H-block fuse (made at the beginning of the

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 27

04/04/2012 16:17

28 Jailtacht

fifth week of the first hunger strike, and broadcast on the 24 November 1980) clearly show such regular-shaped clean areas of wall in that part of the cell (Plate 3). A contemporary image of a semi-naked prisoner writing on the wall of his cell is readily available to view on YouTube (Plate 4). In an Irish republican pamphlet entitled Faoi Ghlas ag Gaill29 (Imprisoned by Foreigners/Strangers), a cartoon image of Irish language etchings on the wall of a cell is accompanied by a letter penned by an unnamed Irish republican prisoner in H-4 and dated to 28 January 1979. Both the letter and the cartoon appear to relate to the bold, block-letter title ‘Foghlaim na Gaeilge’ (Learning Irish) which appears on this page of the text. Clearly shown on the wall is the conjugated present tense of the verb /to be/, a partial conjugation of the verb /to see/ and several Irish republican slogans (Plate 5).

Plate 3: Image from a ‘dirty protest’ cell showing clean patches of wall possibly used for Irish lessons source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L965m4GB55c accessed 12 January 2009

Plate 4: Image of protesting prisoner writing on cell wall source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F4QDHYW7DP8&feature=related accessed 12 January 2009

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 28

04/04/2012 16:17

Chronology 29

Plate 5: Foghlaim na Gaeilge source: Faoi Ghlas ag Gaill, 1981: 6

Not all prisoners were equally interested in the language and some did not engage with the lessons. But according to Laurence McKeown (aka Labhrás Mac Eoin) such was the prevalence of the language that it was all but impossible to avoid acquiring some Irish, perhaps even fluency in it: My cellmate at that time was Paul Montgomery from Newington, North Belfast, and Paul had decided that he would know the Irish language by Christmas 1977. Pacing up and down the cell for hours on end he would repeat the irregular verbs; Ar chuala tú? – Did you hear?; Chuala mé – I heard; Níor chuala me – I did not hear. Despite efforts on my part to resist it I soon found myself mentally repeating, Ar chuala tú, chuala me, níor chuala me, and that was how I began to learn the Irish language. Later in the Blocks the Irish language was as commonly heard as English and many people, including myself, became fluent speakers.30

Other techniques in the acquisition of the language included the translation from English into Irish and the learning by rote of complete chunks of text from the Bible (a copy of which was permitted in the cells) and iconic, historical Irish republican texts such as the 1916 Proclamation of the Irish Republic and the poem ‘Mise Éire’ by 1916 martyr Patrick Pearse. Also, some prisoners sharing cells created their own rules regarding the use of Irish as their language of communication. Colm Scullion, who shared a cell with Bobby Sands for a period, laid claim to both of these practices during an interview with Friel in An Phoblacht: ‘Most of my Irish was taught to me by Bobby Sands,’ says Colm. A copy of the Bible was the only written material allowed in each cell.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 29

04/04/2012 16:17

30 Jailtacht ‘Bobby and Jake Jackson would shout out the reference to a passage in the Bible and we’d try to translate it into Irish,’ says Colm. When Colm and Bobby shared a cell, ‘we made it a rule to speak Irish all day.’ Only after 11pm each night did they allow themselves to lapse back into speaking English.31

Another ex-prisoner, Pilib Ó Rúnaí (aka Phillip Rooney), confirms these techniques and in addition indicates how some of the essential material – such as paper, pencils, and Irish language text – was acquired and concealed from the view of the prison warders: I first came across it through the command structure, through the OC [Irish republican prisoner officer commanding on any given wing]. He’d give orders like ‘Faoi ghlas anois’. John Davey [sp.?] tried to do classes when I was on remand [the Cages] but too many people were coming and going. There was no structure even though there were books. I really learned on the blanket [the H-Blocks] from Eddie Fay. He had a bit of Irish. He would teach me the irregular verbs. When the screws moved us to different cells and washed down the walls and all we’d start again. Eddie Fay [later killed by a loyalist assassination gang] was in the cell next door to me for about a year. He passed some material to me through the pipes on toilet paper, sometimes we’d pass messages by hanging the towel through the window but it was mostly oral. I always had to write it down. I had a pencil lead. I hid it behind my foreskin. I’d write it down on the wall and on toilet paper. We devoured the stories brought from the Cages by visitors. Within about two to three months I’d reached a fair bit of fluency. A later cellmate spoke Irish – around 1980. He’d learned his Irish from another cellmate in another cell. I was writing it correctly. I’d check it with the priest. Eddie was a bit ahead of me but by that stage he’d moved on a bit. It was different to the Cages. You were very dependent on the other learner. Fr Brian Brady had a bit of Irish and he could check things with us. We had some material in Irish smuggled in like Fiachta’s [sp?] History of Ireland [?]. They were ideal circumstances for learning Irish; there was nothing else to do. It kept the prisoners’ morale up. (Interview with the author 2007)

Visiting Catholic priests who were highly educated in the Irish language were used by the prisoners to explain some points of grammar and idiomatic phrases as well as offering guidance on pronunciation: We used Cardinal Ó Fiaich and Fr Faul to explain some phrases and pronounce some of the things we didn’t understand or know how to say. We used stuff from Ireland’s Own, there was an Irish language

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 30

04/04/2012 16:17

Chronology 31 cartoon in it. Irish material would be smuggled between the blocks. Block 5 was very Irish. If we knew somebody was on their way to Block 4 we’d give them the stuff to take over. It wasn’t as good if you were on Block 4. There weren’t many good Irish-speakers there then so you had to learn from just text, just reading text. You wouldn’t know how to say it (Pilib Ó Rúnaí interview with the author 2007).

Levels and types of fluency varied, as this account of an encounter with another prisoner by Peader Whelan illustrates: One such move [change of cell] brought me together with the comrádái [comrade] who, having been in H5 for about a year before coming to H3, had much more Irish than I; his boast was that he knew seventy verbs. That was impressive. However, his ability to actually speak Irish was very limited … I’m not sure why this was so, although it might simply have been due to their way of teaching: learn something by rote, memorise it and so know what tense of a verb to use when asked a question. Something was missing and I think that that something was comhrá [conversation] … Eunan held ranganna with me every day and, importantly, he conducted these classes through the medium of Irish. This was significant, I feel, because it meant I was not accumulating words, verbs, adjectives, etc. as did the cellmate I mentioned. Instead, I would describe the process as one of building a practical awareness of the language and so gradually increasing my ability to converse.32

He provides a particular example of how that converstional ability was developed in his own case during the course of one of these ‘ranganna’ with Eunan Brolly: [O]ut of the blue he asked: ‘An bhfeiceann tú an t-éan ar an sreang?’ (Do you see the bird on the wire?) ‘An bhfeiceann tú?’ was about as much as I knew, so he tried to explain what he was talking about by using Irish that I did know. In describing the scene in front of him and leaving it up to me to interpret what he was seeing, he was creating a situation where I could actively use my Irish rather than mechanically follow a pattern of question and answer around a particular verb.33

The prisoner warders would, on a fairly regular basis, interrupt the Irish language lessons in a rather unstructured manner, usually through shouting and other oral/aural interference but also, on occasion, through using physical violence. Bobby Sands noted such attempts at disruption in his contemporaneous writings, for example: ‘A screw [prison warder] began jeering and shouting

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 31

04/04/2012 16:17

32 Jailtacht

from the top of the wing trying to disrupt the ongoing Gaelic [Irish language] class but the lads [Irish republican prisoners] continued, disregarding him. It happened all the time. The screws achieved nothing, soon got fed up, and departed’.34 It was also the case that the prison warders routinely absented themselves from the wings in which the prisoners’ cells were, while not actually leaving the H-Block. As a result the prisoners were left largely to their own devices for substantial periods of time, albeit confined to their cells: They [prison warders] weren’t able to stop us communicating in Irish as after lights out there were only prisoners on the wards, in the blocks. We were left to our own devices. There’d be forty or fifty prisoners on a wing and only four or five warders so it was impossible for them to control it (Séanna Walsh interview with the Author 2007). The first guy who got the breakfast would shout out in Gaelic, ‘Porridge on the air!’ … If there was a break in that [prison] routine it could mean violence would be happening. Again in Gaelic somebody hearing the break in the timing would shout out, ‘What’s happening?’ and the reply in Gaelic would come, ‘No problem, just checking something.’ There was a whole regular sound pattern that either meant or did not mean violence … If nothing happened it was shouted out in Gaelic, ‘It’s okay!’ or ‘They’re battering!’ … From ten to twelve noon the routine was silence from the screws, interspersed with the sounds of people coming on and off visits … As you came off the visit you walked through the front gate. We would stand on top of the heating pipes looking through the glass into the main yard. People would shout in Gaelic, ‘There’s so and so back again!’ […] Around half twelve a deep silence would come because the screws had gone off to their dinner. That silence told you that was them away, that it was safe. We could start the Irish classes then. The one screw who was left on the wing wouldn’t interfere. If they did it usually meant water or piss being mopped in under the door of the cell.35

It was prison policy in this period to move the prisoners regularly from cell to cell. This meant that on occasion the prisoners would get to see the Irish lessons that others had recorded on the cell walls: I continued on my journey to nowhere as I circled the cell floor like a guinea pig, stopping here and there for a moment or two to identify the scratched names on the door and walls; simple testimony and reminder that others had been and still were in my position. A certain quality of pride seemed to attach itself to the scrawled names of the tortured writers. They were entitled to be proud, I thought, as

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 32

04/04/2012 16:17

Chronology 33 I moved off to read the scribbled Gaelic [Irish language] phrases and words, noting the progress of the other wings in the Gaelic classes. ‘Gaelic classes,’ I said it again. It sounded rather odd. But then it was odd, considering that it meant standing at the cell door listening to your mate, the teacher, shouting the lesson for the day at the top of his voice from the other end of the wing when the screws happened to be away for their dinner or tea.36

But it would appear that more often than not the prison warders would erase the Irish from the walls on the occasion of moving prisoners between cells: ‘They [prison guards] would steam clean the walls and spray over the wall, with white paint covering the Irish and all the political slogans scratched in’.37 The prisoners communicated in writing both with each other and with their comrades in the world outside through smuggling material in their body cavities. One of the most prolific writers in the H-Blocks was Bobby Sands, and Gerry Adams claims that this prodigious output was only possible because of such activity: As well as being the leader of the blanket men and of the second hunger strike, Bobby Sands was also the most prolific writer among the H Block prisoners. He not only wrote press statements, but he also wrote short stories and poems under the pen name ‘Marcella’, his sister’s name, which were published in Republican News and then in the newly merged An Phoblacht/Republican News after February 1979. Bobby’s writings span the last four years of his life in H Blocks 3, 4, 5, or 6. They were written on pieces of government issue toilet roll or on the rice paper of contraband cigarette roll-ups with the refill of a biro pen which he kept hidden inside his body. He also wrote as a ‘young West Belfast republican’ and as PRO of the blanket men in the H Blocks 3, 4, and 6.38

David Beresford, a journalist writing for English newspaper The Guardian at the time of the 1981 hunger strike, describes in some detail the mechanics of this means of communication, knowledge which is derived from his close contacts with the Irish republican movement at that time: The H-Blocks are intended to facilitate control by restriction of both movement and communication. So the IRA leadership put a priority on the organization of communications, developing a highly efficient system. The monthly visits were to some extent under the control of the prisoners, who were required to submit requests to the governor stipulating what person was to be invited in and on what date. The applications were carefully staggered so that, as far as possible,

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 33

04/04/2012 16:17

34 Jailtacht each wing of each block had a prisoner meeting a visitor every day. Family and friends – mainly women – acted as couriers, carrying the steady stream of tiny ‘communications’ or ‘comms’, etched on cigarette papers and wrapped in household cling-film, in their mouths, in their bras, under their breasts, in their panties, sanitary napkins and vaginas. The prisoners carried them to the visiting area in their backsides, tucked behind their teeth, jammed up their nostrils, or in their foreskins. The pay-loads could be formidable – one prisoner was reputed to have set the record by carrying over forty cigarette papers in his foreskin. The system became so efficient that on occasion the external leadership could expect to get a message in, a reply out and a second message back in a single day.39

In his description of a particularly invasive means of searching the prisoners by the warders, McKeown provides an intimate account of the concealment of Irish language and other material on their bodies. They coined the word ‘bangling’ for this practice: The mirror search was meant to discover anything hidden between prisoners’ hips, which (up until then) was indeed the securest place for contraband items such as tobacco, pens, cigarette papers and articles written in Irish to be hidden. With the introduction of the mirror search, however, prisoners were forced to hide such items inside their bodies. They wrapped them securely in cling film and then put them up inside their anus. The practice of hiding items in this manner became known as ‘bangling’.40

The prisoners also communicated by towel line. This involved using a thread of towel to which they would attach a paper message. The thread, or towel line, would then be swung by the deliverer of the message in the direction of the intended recipient between cell windows, under cell doors or through cell door windows. Bobby Sands describes this in his prison writings: ‘“Seán,” I called, “I’ll rig up a line with a bit of towel thread and swing a few tissues into you, mo chara [my friend]”’.41 Bobby Sands also describes how the prisoners used the water and heating pipes to communicate: Seán knocked on the wall. ‘Down to the pipe,’ I said, getting down to the corner on top of my mattress with my head right to the wall where the pipes ran through. There wasn’t a great deal of heat coming through the pipes. What there was went streaming out the open window into the dark cold night. ‘Well, Bobby,’ came Seán’s enquiring voice through the small hole in the wall … I continued my conversation with Seán for some time until I began to feel cramped

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 34

04/04/2012 16:17

Chronology 35 lying in my unnatural position at the pipes and wall. So I decided to go back to pacing the floor once again. My feet were numb with the cold. Seán understood. He was in much the same condition. I told him that I’d call him later and we both left our corners to resume where we had left off in our endless pacing.42

The Irish language quickly became very widely used by the Irish republican prisoners to communicate generally with each other. This communication apparently included important information regarding tactics and action by the prisoners as they developed their cycle of protests against the prison’s regime of ‘criminalisation’. Thus, many prisoners regarded Irish as central to their being fully engaged with activity in the prison during this intense period of protest: We knew the Dark [Brendan Hughes] was not going to be content to let things go as they were. A little bit of excitement began to generate as we anticipated his next move – how to make the Blanket [protest] effective. With the knowledge that plans were afoot to escalate the protest, the staleness of the Blanket became apparent and I grew impatient for action. Bobby [Sands] was in regular contact with the Dark’s wing. Messages were shouted back and forward in Gaeilge and code and it was obvious to us all that he was receiving the details of the next phase of action. Like many others, it was then that I decided that I must learn Gaeilge, because I was afraid of missing something.43 All the news was in Irish. You had to understand Irish to know what was going on. (Pilib Ó Rúnaí interview with the author, 2007)

This period of violent protest against the prison regime effectively concluded when the six remaining hunger strikers brought their action to an end on 3 October 1981 as it became increasingly clear that their families would intervene to save their lives. The family of Laurence McKeown, for example, initiated medical intervention to save his life as he entered a coma on the seventieth day of his hunger strike. 1981–1998, Strategic Engagement From the point of view of the Irish republican prisoners, the demoralising end of the hunger strike was accompanied by the decline of the language in the prison for several years. For around eighteen months or so after the end of the 1981 hunger strike it would appear that Irish language classes proper were recommenced but in very limited form: With only one class per block limited to fifteen POWs per class, almost forty prisoners in each block were left with no cultural outlet.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 35

04/04/2012 16:17

36 Jailtacht Despite these rules the prisoners have had tremendous success in examinations in both ‘A’ level and ‘O’ level standard. An excellent feat when you consider that the POWs were not given access to reading or writing material and had but one miserable hour long class per week.44

These classes were brought to an end by the prison authorities following a mass escape of Irish republican prisoners from H-7 in September 1983. In addition, all Irish language material was considered contraband, including articles in Irish in English language newspapers. Irish classes were facilitated again by the prison authorities two years subsequent to this but through distance learning courses with the numbers of learners limited to around thirty.45 Irish language books remained proscribed items until 1986 but even then they were subject to censorship.46 The eventual revival of the morale of the prisoners and the resurrection of the Irish language seems to have coincided with the return of Séanna Walsh (Séanna Walsh was released after the ‘segregation campaign’ (see below) around 1984 but was reimprisoned by the end of the decade) to serve a new sentence in the H-Blocks: We always thought that the hunger strike was the secret weapon; that it never failed. The blanket protest peaked with around 300 republican prisoners on it when I came in. At that time more were coming off than going on – it was at tipping point. We were all very young at the time. One republican who was thirty-four years old was called granda! Our generation was absolutely sure it would work. It was the ace in the pack. As far as we were concerned it was unsuccessful. People were thoroughly demoralised. The reason Bobby went on it was because he realised people were demoralised … People were thoroughly demoralised. The confusion and demoralisation took very firm leadership. Séanna Walsh gave that. The first thing was to achieve segregation, to get them [loyalist prisoners and other prisoners, described by Merlyn Rees, Secretary of State for Northern Ireland at the time of the removal of Special Category status in 1976 as ‘ordinary decent criminals’]. It was a brutal time. It was them or us. It involved a lot of casual violence. The language was used to differentiate with other prisoners. For some the language was a means of politicising the non-political prisoners. ’79 to ’82 was very intensive, after that less so. But Irish was still there. Though we’d no access to Irish books until 1983 or ’84, there was still a ban on Irish books until then. After Séanna Walsh came back it became a much more forward approach … There was a decline in the Irish language at that time. It took the best part of two years to change that (Pilib Ó Rúnaí interview with the author 2007).

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 36

04/04/2012 16:17

Chronology 37

Under the leadership of Séanna Walsh the Irish republican prisoners developed a policy of ‘strategic engagement with the conforming prison system’ (Séanna Walsh interview with the author 2007). The Irish language was reintroduced and, once again, it became a central part of the everyday lives of the prisoners. But since the prisoners were no longer in a continuous state of protest and in violent direct conflict with the prison authorities (despite the mass escape of 1983) the conditions under which the language was now acquired were much more amenable, though not consistently so. Also, there appears to have been a greater awareness of some of the practical pedagodical issues regarding the effective acquisition of Irish as second language. One result of this was the introduction of an intensive course in Irish, the development of which is recalled by Séanna Walsh as follows: After the blanket protest, during the early 1980s, there was a decline in the Irish language in the prison but during the late 1980s some of us decided that we’d revive the language again. An intensive sixweek course was developed by Máirtín Ó Muilleor and brought into the prison. There was no official access to Irish language teaching material – books, tapes, etc. – so the course had to be written and brought in specially. You needed to do the Dianchúrsa [Intensive Course] to get fluent in Irish. It wasn’t enough to just do a few hours a week, here and there. You needed to do it all the time, morning and afternoon for six weeks and then you’d be fluent. We used it to get around ninety prisoners fluent, really fluent. The use of the Irish language in the prison at this time was different. It was used all the time, in the communal areas and in individual cells. You would even dream in Irish. It wasn’t like the old Gaeltacht huts in the Cages where you’d only use it in the communal area. Around 300 of the 400 Republican prisoners became fluent in the Irish language (Interview with the author 2007).

The tactics of ‘strategic engagement’ included a number of court cases being initiated by some of the Irish republican prisoners, challenging the prison authorities’ policy with regard to the Irish language and other aspects of traditional Irish cultural activity. According to one source47 there was litigation in October 1987 regarding the confiscation of Irish language Bibles from the prisoners. Then, in June 1989 two prisoners, Eoghan Mac Cormaic and John Pickering lost a similar case and subsequently lost the appeal in September 1990.48 Their complaints were against the following: 1.  Cosc ar chomhfhreagras trí mheán na Gaeilge 2.  Cosc ar labhairt na Gaeilge le linn cuairteanna 3.  Cosc ar fháil is caitheamh an Fháinne

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 37

04/04/2012 16:17

38 Jailtacht

4.  Cosc ar úsáid ainmneacha Gaelacha 5. Moill leatromach ar chinsireacht leabhair Ghaeilge seachas leabhair Bhéarla 6.  Cosc ar imirt spóirt Ghaelaigh.49 (1. Ban on correspondence through the medium of Irish; 2. Ban on speaking of Irish during prison visits; 3. Ban on obtaining and wearing the Fáinne; 4. Ban on use of Irish language version of personal names; 5. Undue delay with regard to the censoring of Irish language books compared to English language books; 6. Ban on the playing of Gaelic games.) The policy of the prison authorities was not to change substantially until the IRA ceasefire of 1994. But in the meantime the prisoners developed a considerable body of literature of their own, including material in the Irish language.50 Many of these literary efforts appeared in the prison magazine Scairt Amach (Shout Out), produced from 1989. This was circulated only within the prison. Between 1987 and 1990 the magazine Iris Bheag (Little Magazine) was created and managed by Sinn Féin and included material by prisoners. Also much creative writing was published in An Glór Gafa/The Captive Voice, initiated in 1988 by prisoners from the H-Blocks. A range of this material was subsequently published in 1991 in the volume H-Block: a Selection of Poetry. Also at this time significant numbers of Irish republicans came to the end of their sentences and were released from prison. Their return to various parts of Northern Ireland was to have considerable impact upon the Irish language in society beyond the prison walls. While it is the case that the Irish language had been growing in Northern Ireland for a number of years at that stage,51 beginning with the creation of an urban neo-Gaeltacht on Shaw’s Road in west Belfast in the early 1970s, there can be little doubt that the politicisation of the language, initiated in the Cages and completed in the H-Blocks, added substantial momentum to this growth. This was particularly so during the second half of the 1980s and throughout the 1990s as many Irish republican prisoners left prison to become actively involved in the Irish language at a community level in various areas of the northern part of Ireland. After the IRA ceasefire of 1994 the prison regime relaxed considerably. This included the end of 24-hour lock-up, free association52 and a more enlightened position on the language. The prisoners were allowed access to Irish language material and allowed tuition, and guest speakers were brought in to hold classes in Irish language and literature. According to the prisoners, the most substantial benefit of this new regime was that they were now largely in control of their own lives in prison:

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 38

04/04/2012 16:17

Chronology 39 The achievement of total control of their living environment 24 hours a day was a critical milestone in the prison struggle of republican prisoners. It signalled an end to all attempts by the government and prison authorities to criminalise them and heralded a new era whereby those responsible for the running of the prison on the administration side recognised the leadership and command structure of republican prisoners and liaised with them on all matters concerning the daily running of the prison. A situation similar to that existing in the Cages prior to the removal of special category status had been achieved. In fact in this instance it exceeded what republicans in the Cages system had had. Most significant was the agreement by the prison authorities to close the punishment Block, the ‘boards’. From that time onwards the prisoners’ staff (both loyalist and republican) were to take full responsibility for discipline. Not since the time of the Frongoch internment camp in Wales in 1917 had such recognition and authority been bestowed by the authorities upon political prisoners of war.53

Laurence McKeown notes that Northern Ireland Prison Service recorded in its Corporate and Business Plan for 1998–2001 that by that time the prison authorities recognised that the ‘prisoners largely manage their own lives’.54 As a result of this new power to manage themselves, the Irish republican prisoners, during the course of the next three to four years, created two wholly Irish-speaking wings in the H-Blocks: ‘The 1994 ceasefire meant we were able to get access to Irish language teachers, tapes, books, CDs. A Gaeltacht wing was created at this time and by 1998 there were two Gaeltacht wings’ (Séanna Walsh interview with the author 2007). The prisoners adopted the name Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige for this new Irish-speaking community in the H-Blocks. Documents written by two of the prisoners at that time provide a direct and immediate insight into this development. The first was written by Gearóid Mac Aoidh from D wing in H-5 in 199655 and is a review of the creation of the Gaeltacht wing and an overview of current activities in it. It has the feel of an internal discussion paper aimed at the republican movement. The second document is a report of a contemporaneous educational project,56 conducted and written in H-5 by Jimmy McAllister, one of the Irish republican prisoners. According to these sources the first Gaeltacht wing was created by around twenty-five Irish republican prisoners in H-6 (C wing) on 29 May 1995.57 A third untitled and anonymous document,58 which is an unpublished Irish republican prisoners’ internal discussion paper, confirms this date and further adds that this ‘full Gaeilge speaking wing’59 comprised the following individuals: Paul Duffy, Tarlac Connolly, Tony O’Neill and Conor Gilmore were moved from H4; Peter Cunningham, Kevin McMahon, Colman McCrossan, Rory McCarthy and Martin Malloy were moved from H7;

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 39

04/04/2012 16:17

40 Jailtacht Davy Adams, Collie Duffy, Arnie Averell and Ricky Sadlier were already there. A fortnight later Bik McFarlane, Paddy McGilloway, Pat Sheehan, Jimmy McAllister, Gerry Magee and Micheal Talun were moved on.60

It was then relocated to H-5 (D wing) in March 1996.61 A second Gaeltacht wing was established by a further twenty-five prisoners in H-8 sometime during 1997.62 By the end of 1997, according to two contemporaneous sources, An Phoblacht and Saoirse (an organisation founded in the context of the emerging peace process and with the purpose of lobbying on behalf of ‘Irish political prisoners’), H-5 (D wing) appears to have been made up of nineteen Irish republican prisoners. These included Séanna Walsh and also Tarlac Ó Conghalaigh (aka Tarlach/Tarlac/Turlough Connolly), a leading creative writer amongst the prisoners (Table 1). The same source lists twenty-one prisoners in H-8 (D wing), which would appear to be the Gaeltacht wing on that particular block (Table 2). Their numbers include Feilim Ó hAdhmaill, the author of an important attitudinal survey on the Irish language published in 1985, who was transferred from an English jail in order to facilitate the then fragile political process. GARY BRESLIN SEAN CAMPBELL TARLAC CONNOLLY

18

Strabane

14

New Lodge

H5D

Armagh

H5D

LIFE

H5D

KEVIN COSGROVE

21

St James's

H5D

GERRY MAGEE

20

Antrim

H5D

EMMANUEL MARLEY

20

Ardoyne

H5D

SEAN MATHERS

20

Newry

H5D

DERMOT McERLAINE

11

Toome

H5D

PAT McGUIGAN

12

The Markets

H5D

PATRICK McMAHON

12

Turf Lodge

H5D

PAT MEEHAN

20

Derry

H5D

MARTY MOLLOY

24

Strabane

H5D

GARY MONAGHAN

15

Beechmount

H5D

JAMES MORGAN

14

St James's

H5D

PAUD MULLIGAN

16

Lisnaskea

H5D

TONY O'NEILL

20

Andersonstown

H5D

PAT SHEEHAN

24+2

St James's

H5D

SEANNA WALSH

22

Poleglass

H5D

CHRISTY WALSH

12

Beechmount

H5D

Table 1: List of prisoners in H-5 D wing in December 1997, source: http://republican-news.org/archive/1997/December04/04pris.html and http://www.irlnet.com/saoirse/, accessed 22 February 2009

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 40

04/04/2012 16:17

Chronology 41

DAVY ADAMS

25

Andersonstown

H8D

LIAM AVERILL GERRY BUTLER

LIFE

South Derry

H8D

LIFE

Ballycastle

H8D

STEPHEN CANNING

20

Andersonstown

H8D

COLM COYLE

14

Newry

H8D

20

Derry

H8D

LIFE

Belfast

H8D

SEAMUS DOHERTY EUGENE GILMARTIN SEAN HILL

16

Ballycastle

H8D

GERARD LOUGHLIN

15

Belfast

H8D

SEAN LYNCH

25

Fermanagh

H8D

GERARD MACKEN

25

Beechmount

H8D

STEPHEN MAGEE

20

KEVIN McCAFFERY

REM

Ballymurphy

H8D

Andersonstown

H8D

PADDY McGILLOWAY

22

Derry

H8D

FRANCIE McGOLDRICK

14

Lisnaskea

H8D

LIFE

Lisnaskea

H8D

NOEL McHUGH JIM McVEIGH

24

Lower Falls

H8D

CIARAN MORRISON

25

Beechmount

H8D

PADDY O'DOWD FEILIM O'hADHMAILL DEREK SWEETMAN

LIFE 25 REM

Lurgan

H8D

Twinbrook

H8D

Dublin

H8D

Table 2: List of prisoners in H-8 D wing in December1997 source: http://republican-news.org/archive/1997/December04/04pris.html and http://www.irlnet.com/saoirse/, accessed 22 February 2009

Some of the new cohort of Irish republican prisoners of this period recall that the members of these Gaeltacht wings were admired as the ‘nios díograisí’ (most zealous) (Declan Moen, aka Deaglán Ó Mocháin interview with the author 2007) of their members and that there was a very considerable waiting list to join those wings. McAllister’s document provides us with a more prosaic profile of the typical member of Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige: The average adult learner is twenty nine years old, of a working class background, is an ex-comprehensive school pupil who left school with little or no qualifications, had little or no interest in education and an abiding feeling of having made little or no progress during his school years. The GnaF [Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige] member has on average spent six years and four months in prison of which thirteen have been spent on GnaF. Despite having little or no Irish

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 41

04/04/2012 16:17

42 Jailtacht language experience before his arrest and no academic qualifications in the subject … All members are actively involved in academic courses GCSE (32%), ACSE (16%) or post ACSE (52%) as well as the daily informal classes held among themselves on the wing. Here the more experienced members undertake roles of facilitators to guide and help newer members in their development. In addition after spending the time on GnaF 72% of respondents declared an accomplished or proficient ability with the Irish language. While 60% described their progress to date as either excellent (28%) or very good (32%).63

The more relaxed prison regime allowed the prisoners to obtain Irish language teaching materials freely, from a wide range of authoritative sources outside of the prison, for the first time in many years. It is clear from the document by Mac Aoidh that they were provided with such material by several organisations competent in Irish language teaching and learning: Once sufficient numbers of Irish-speakers had settled into H6, Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige became publicly known following a series of articles in The Irish News, Lá, An Glór Gafa and AP/RN. We required a wide range of books, dictionaries and other materials to enable our Gaeltacht to be an effective learning environment and so we wrote to many of the Irish language organisations throughout Ireland for assistance. Within weeks many materials arrived and we now have a library on the wing well stocked with books in Gaeilge, thanks to the support of: the Cultúrlann in Belfast, Conradh na Gaeilge, Gael Linn, Glór na nGael, Roinn an Chultúir Sinn Féin, Bord na Gaeilge, An Institiúid Teangeolaíochta Éireann, Áras Mháirtín Uí Cadhain, Coiscéim, Cló Iar-Chonnachta, An Gúm, Comhar na Muinteoirí, An Iontaobhas Ultach and several secondary/grammar schools in Belfast and Armagh.64

However, these organisations tended to supply the prisoners with only single copies of their products (books, tapes etc.) so the prisoners subseqently developed their own, specially adapted Irish language courses from which they were easily able to make multiple copies for their own use.65 I have been able to obtain a copy, through Tarlac Ó Conghalaigh, of the foundation course ‘An Bunchúrsa’ developed by the prisoners around 1995 and the immersion in the Irish language which was possible at this stage produced a number of very fluent speakers. One prisoner recalls recognising that he was what he considered to be wholly fluent when he attended one of the talks given by Aodán Mac Póilin, the Director of the Irish language organisation Ultach Trust, during August 1995 and understood absolutely everything that was said. Mac Póilin was invited by

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 42

04/04/2012 16:17

Chronology 43

the Prison Welfare team to give a series of talks to the different paramilitary groups in the different H-Blocks. The subject of these talks and the response of the prisoners to them are of considerable ideological interest. I have been able to obtain a copy of the text used by Mac Póilin during these talks, and will return to the analysis of this issue at a later point in the book. Other Irish republican prisoners felt that being able to listen, with understanding, to the radio shows of presenter Rónán Mac Aodh Bhuí on Raidió na Gaeltachta (Irish-medium and Republic of Ireland government-sponsored radio station) marked this rite of passage (Declan Moen interview with the author 2007). It would appear that some of the former Irish republican prisoners look with nostalgia upon this particular period as a kind of zenith. Take, for example, this post on the ‘Slugger O’Toole’ blog by ‘Fuiseog’ on 23 October 2006: Over a decade later by August 1999 we had 100% de facto political status, we ran our own communities, we had our own internal education programmes including a gaeltacht in H-block 5, coupled with access to formal educational opportunities that I personally availed of to Masters level. In all life was bearable, we made the very best of what we had improving ourselves and our conditions as was our duty.66

Of course, the political agreement of 1998 and the subsequent prisoner releases brought down the final curtain on this prison story, but not upon the relationship between the ex-prisoners and Irish. Conclusions Séanna Walsh was one of the first prisoners to be released under the terms of the Good Friday (or Belfast) Agreement 1998, which brought peace to Northern Ireland. It is not a coincidence that the Irish language formed an important part of that agreement. Clause 3 states for example that ‘All participants recognise the importance of respect, understanding and tolerance in relation to linguistic diversity, including in Northern Ireland, the Irish language, UlsterScots and the languages of the various ethnic communities, all of which are a part of the cultural wealth of the island of Ireland’.67 Upon release he quickly began to play a major role in the further political development of Sinn Féin with regard to the Irish language. He currently directs the party’s Department for Culture and the Irish language features very strongly on the policy agenda. It is, perhaps, the ambition for the language within the party which is most striking. He puts it as follows: The most interesting aspect of our reinvigorated Roinn a’ Chultúir [Department of Culture] will be our project to turn Sinn Féin from an

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 43

04/04/2012 16:17

44 Jailtacht English speaking party, which is fairly good on the language question, to a bilingual party involved in all areas of radical language development and promotion … Sinn Féin aims to develop from being a party which campaigns on Irish language issues to a party that epitomises the struggle for the repossession of the language.68

The values that have shaped the life of Séanna Walsh and his peers are likely to have an impact beyond the north of Ireland, given that he was recently appointed as a member of Foras na Gaeilge (The Irish Language Board, a crossborder agency with statutory responsibilities for the Irish language) along with three other Sinn Féin nominees.69 It was noted in the Irish language media that these northern appointees bring ‘blas láidir Ultach’ (a strong Ulster flavour)70 to the membership of the new board whilst also noting that Séanna Walsh was a friend and one-time cell-mate of Bobby Sands.71 Other Irish republican ex-prisoners are involved in the Irish language in the field in a number of different ways, including the development of a Northern Ireland Assembly funded ‘Gaeltacht Quarter’ in Belfast, Irish-medium education, Irish language film and television production, journalism and writing. This engagement, in a sense, completes the chronology, but the narrative still requires much explanation. It is to this task which I now turn.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 44

04/04/2012 16:17

3 Style As the men in H-Blocks began to be moved from cell to cell [towards the end of 1978], they were learning from the writing on the wall. For example, the past tense of an Irish verb might be on one wall, the future tense on another and the present tense on another – Jailic, they called it!1

Introduction If style is a distinctive variety of language that is communally constituted and self-consciously used by individuals, as authors and speakers, in certain social contexts for specific purposes, then it follows that the Irish language of the Irish republican prisoners, known by some as Jailic, is a style. It has already been shown that Jailic emerged in a very particular social and physical context. As a result, it appears to be absolutely necessary to adopt a social constructionist position in seeking to demonstrate how, and explain why, Jailic emerged as a style. Coupland’s exhortation to sociolinguists, therefore, is entirely sensible: A social constructionist approach to social meaning cannot avoid reaching into complex territories of cultural, personal, historical and sequential meanings. This is its strength and its weakness. But I will be arguing that sociolinguists should go after this sort of complex social interpretation, simply because social interaction itself implicates this level of complexity.2

Coupland partly justifies this approach and the necessity ‘to broaden the remit for style’3 in terms of the erosion, under conditions of late modernity, of the rigidity of a range of variables which structure identity, such as socio-economic class, religion and ethnicity. In this context, the case of Jailic is quite instructive as it can be read as a linguistic variation adapted for the purpose of styling a very particular but very dynamic, ambiguous, shifting social identity – generally stereotyped as ‘northern Irish republican’, while at the same time connecting with the urban sensibilities and youth culture of post-industrial west Belfast. In this examination of how Jailic is used to make meaning, to project identity and to construct social lives, a wide range of sources provide the raw material. These include political propaganda tracts, autobiographies, poetry, diary entries, glossaries, the script of a play, film screenplays, a pronunciation guide, interviews with this researcher and others, public letters, private communications, television

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 45

04/04/2012 16:17

46 Jailtacht

interviews, a tombstone inscription, and a graveside oration. Perhaps the range here is broader than is usual for studies of style, as not only the spoken word but also the written word is considered in response to the promptings of some exceptions in the area of style.4 Thus, ‘language user’ refers not only to speaker but also author, and social interaction implies the relationship between various communicative media and their audiences. Texts up to 1976 I have adapted a broadly chronological means of organising the various texts that make up the raw material of my analysis. The sources in this particular section relate to the period during which the Irish republican prisoners were held in the Cages, prior to the construction of the H-Blocks. The Cages were communal, dormitory style accommodation and, as a result, the prisoners were able to associate with each other quite freely and were able to organise a wide range of activities, including Irish language lessons. One particular hut, Cage 11, was a consistent focal point for much of the Irish language activity and I am interested in two of its associated Irish language users, namely Bobby Sands and Gerry Adams. I make use of five texts by them in order to illustrate some basic points regarding the emergence of Jailic style in this period. The first text (Text One) is an extract from the earliest confirmed expression in Irish by Bobby Sands. The original piece was handwritten and its most immediately distinctive feature was his adoption of a version of the traditional Gaelic font. I have not reproduced the handwritten text here but have instead represented the font adopted by Bobby Sands by using the Gaelic font of O’Carroll5 as my interest in the stylistics of Bobby Sands’s handwriting but in his own particular representation of the traditional Gaelic font. He makes a number of choices which are worth noting. To choose the traditional Gaelic font in the first place is to ignore the adoption of the Roman font by Irish language educationalists in the Republic of Ireland, a process that was completed in 1970.6 The use of the traditional Gaelic font may well serve to underscore the fact that Irish is a different language to English. I have juxtaposed versions of the text in Gael A font and Times New Roman font so as to illustrate the extent of visual difference between the Gaelic and the Roman conventions. It is also possible that Bobby Sands made use of this font simply because it was that which he was taught. Generally, the prisoners claim to have been taught Irish by an older generation of Irish republicans who had in their own turn learned Irish whilst imprisoned during the 1940s and 1950s. Without question, the traditional Gaelic font would have been the only type of script in which one was expected to write and, therefore to be taught to write Irish, at that time. Consequently it would seem that the adoption of this font by Bobby Sands is therefore a part of the socialisation of a new generation of Irish republicans to the experience of prison as understood by the older generation.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 46

04/04/2012 16:17

style 47 Seo alt faoi choinne gach duinne, ach go háirithe na daoine atá ar an taobh amuigh, nuair a bhíonn muid in ár gconaí anseo tá lán ama againn a bheith ag foghlaim agus a léamh agus silim go bhfuil fhios ag an chuid is mó de na daoine anseo caidé a tá a tharlú sa tir seo agus san domhain freisin agus tá muid ábalta a trácht ar an cogadh i Vietnam, an coimhlint san meán oirtear agus an trioblóid san tír seo. Seo alt faoi choinne gach duinne, ach go háirithe na daoine atá ar an taobh amuigh, nuair a bhíonn muid in ár gconaí anseo tá lán ama againn a bheith ag foghlaim agus a léamh agus silim go bhfuil fhios ag an chuid is mó de na daoine anseo caidé a tá a tharlú sa tir seo agus san domhain freisin agus tá muid ábalta a trácht ar an cogadh i Vietnam, an coimhlint san mean oirtear agus an trioblóid san tír seo. Seo alt faoí c|oinne gac| duinne, ac| go h-áirit|e na daoine atá ar an taob| amuig|, nuair a b|íonn muid in ár gconaí anseo tá lán ama againn a b|eit| ag fog|laim agus a léam| agus silim go b|fuil f[f|]uil f[f|]ios ag an c|uid is mó de na daoine anseo caidé a tá a t|arlú sa tir seo agus san dom|ain freisin agus tá muid ábalta a tráct| ar an cogad| i Veitnam, an coim|lint san meán oirtear, agus an trioblóid in san tír seo. (Here is an article for everybody, but especially for the people outside, when we are living here we have a lot of time to learn and to read and I think that most people here know what is happening in this country and the world as well and we are able to mention the war in Vietnam, the conflict in the Middle East and the trouble in this country.) (Text one: Bobby Sands ‘Ag Bunadh Gaeltachta’, c.1975)7

There are some simple differences in Text One between Gael A font and Bobby Sands’s font. Were Bobby Sands to have conformed entirely to the traditional Gaelic font then the way in which he formed a number of letters would have been significantly different. Specifically, /f, t, r/ and /s/ are formed in Roman rather than traditional Gaelic font in that of Bobby Sands. This choice renders the word, as it appears in written form, more familiar to the English language reader. This in turn implies that, while difference may well have been desirable and a possible motivating factor in the overall choice of font, Bobby Sands was concerned that the text should not appear too different. The word /freisin/ (also) is a good example with which to illustrate this matter. In Gael A font it is rendered /freisin/ and in Bobby Sands’s font it is / freisin/. Clearly, the latter allows the more ready identification of /f/, /r/ and /s/ and therefore is the more accessible form to the English language reader. A second noteworthy feature of Bobby Sands’s font is his use of dotted letters

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 47

04/04/2012 16:17

48 Jailtacht

to denote the aspiration or lenition of certain consonants in Irish. Simply, the glyph /˙/ is inserted above the letter which is to be aspirated. It is known as ‘ponc séimhithe’ or ‘buailte’, the dot of lenition, in Irish. With regard to Text One, this is the case with the letter /c/ in the construction /faoi choinne/ (for) which is rendered as /Faoi Choinne/ in Gael A font, and is rendered /faoí c|oinne/ in Bobby Sands’s font. This mode of indicating lenition was initially restricted to the lenited /f/ and /s/ in Old Irish while other consonants used the following /h/ but eventually both modes came to be commonly used. However, from the period of the so-called Celtic revival of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century it became standard practice to use the dot of lenition when writing in the traditional Gaelic script and the following /h/ in Roman script. Interestingly, and more unusually, this symbol is also used in Text One when the consonant is not aspirated but simply followed by the letter /h/. For example, the word /gach/ (each/every) is rendered as /gac\/ by Bobby Sands. The use of dotted lettering and, in particular, the resulting dropping of the /h/, as exemplified in Text One, appears to be significant for the development of Jailic style more generally. The phonetic element, or sound, which the following /h/ indicates, as we shall subsequently see, is also dropped from the more fully developed, spoken Jailic style. Thus, /ch/ (/x/ in IPA for Irish) is, quite distinctively, pronounced as /c/ (/k/ in IPA for Irish), and what ought to be a fricative becomes a stop. The second source, comprising Texts Two to Five (below), illustrates a very different point. At this point in the chronology, Gerry Adams is an excellent example of the impact of the Irish language on non-learners. He determined, at this stage, to acquire only a little of the language but, as a resident of Cage 11 he came into intimate daily contact with the language as a substantial cohort of his co-residents had undertaken to learn Irish. The following extract from one of his autobiographical works reflects his position: On being kicked out of bed myself, at a much more respectable hour, I saw that Your Man was still up and that he was behaving exactly like the others [i.e. other so-called ‘early risers’]. ‘I’ve started learning Irish,’ he explained. ‘And I study in the morning when it’s quiet.’ He must think I’m a complete eejit. Learning Irish, he says. He doesn’t know ‘Cad é mar atá tú?’ [How are you?] from ‘Bórd na Móna’ [The Turf Board, a state body responsible for the exploitation of turf as a fuel]. Not that I’ve anything against the Irish; I’m learning it myself. Only it’s very hard in here. It’s difficult to find the time to do everything.8

His attitude is that the learning of Irish is not a high priority. Yet, it can be seen in other texts by Gerry Adams that, despite this rather ironical and detached

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 48

04/04/2012 16:17

style 49

view, certain elements of the language were commonly co-opted by the Irish republican prisoners in the Cages. These elements included linguistic key phrases with very specific uses. This is reflected, for example, in the Irish language material in the glossaries appended to the autobiographical works of various ex-prisoners, including Gerry Adams,9 Danny Morrison10 and Brian Campbell et al.11 The material from Gerry Adams’s work is especially useful as it is entirely based upon his experience of incarceration in Long Kesh between 1975 and 1977 and was largely written, and initially published, contemporaneously. The pertinent Irish language material from this glossary is reproduced here (Text Two): a amadán bhocht – you poor fool abú – for ever agus sin mar a bhí sé – and that’s how it was An Cumann Cabhrach – prisoners support committee an leithreas – the lavatory An tAth – Fr (Father [Catholic Priest]) Ar mhaith leat dul ag siúl? – Would you like to go for a walk? árd chomhairle [sic] – executive árd fheis – annual party conference arís – again bígí ciúin – be quiet buíochas – acknowledgements, thanks Cad é mar atá tú? – How are you? ceart – right clár – agenda cumainn – organisations cumann – organisation, branch Cumann na mBan – Republican Woman’s Organisation dia dhuit – hello; good day Éire Nua – New Ireland, political manifesto of Sinn Féin i bhfad bhfad ó shoin [sic] – long, long ago Madra Rua, an – the Fox maidin mhaith – good morning Nollaig shona (dhuit/dhaoibh) – Happy Christmas (to you) Oíche Chiúin – Silent Night poitín – illicit whisky; moonshine scéal – news, story sin é – that’s it sin, sin – that’s it sláinte – your health tiocfaidh ár lá – our day will come

(Text two: Gerry Adams ‘Glossary’, c.1975–7)12

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 49

04/04/2012 16:17

50 Jailtacht

The use of some of these linguistic items is well illustrated in the following descriptions by Gerry Adams of a number of the routines of Cage 11. The first example (Text Three) shows the significance of ‘going for a walk’ and how this was referred to in the form of Irish used by the prisoners: All gates open inwards. They probably do the same outside, but you notice it more in here – that’s called doing ‘bird’. And everyone walks in an anti-clockwise direction. I don’t know why. Internees do it, Loyalists do it as well. ‘Will you do a lap?’ or ‘Fancy a boul?’ or ‘Ar mhaith leat dul ag siúl?’ and away you go around and around. And always against the clock. Maybe some instinct is at work. That’s the funny thing about this place: a simple thing becomes a matter of life and death. I suppose it has always been like that. If you walk the other way you get the back ripped out of you. Jail is unnatural. (Text three: Gerry Adams ‘Cage 11’, c.1975–7)13

The second example of usage (Text Four) relates to a concept which may be crudely understood as /news/ that eventually became profoundly embedded in the experience of incarceration for the Irish republican prisoners. It is very significant that /news/ was only known by its Irish language name /scéal/, whatever the linguistic competence or language attitude of the individual prisoner. Gerry Adams defines it, and its significance, as follows: Scéal is the word used to describe the widest possible generalised interpretation of the word ‘news’. It includes real news as well as gossip, scandal, loose talk, rumour, speculation and prediction … We manufacture it most of the time in our cage and sometimes shout it across to other cages, or we talk at the wire when we are out of the cage for visits, football or other excursions. We also throw ‘pigeons’ to each other. A pigeon is a well-tied snout (tobacco) tin containing a scéal note and a few pebbles for weight. We hurl pigeons from cage to cage and thus have a line of communication which the screws can’t penetrate. If you’re a good thrower, that is. […] In between praising the food and manufacturing scéal, receiving scéal, discussing scéal and passing on scéal, we read a wee bit, back-stab each other a wee bit, talk a great deal and engage in a little sedition, which is mainly a matter of getting to understand the political situation which has us here in Long Kesh. This process is occasionally revealing, sometimes amusing and always, next to scéal, the most time-consuming activity of the most sane POWs. (Text four: Gerry Adams ‘Cage 11’, c.1975–7)14

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 50

04/04/2012 16:17

style 51

Properly speaking, /scéal/ may be defined in a number of ways. According to Ó Dónaill’s authoritative Irish-English dictionary15 it can mean any of the following:

1.  2.  3.  4.  5.  6.  7. 

story narrative, tale, anecdote account of event piece of news, report theme, plot state of affairs, matter, circumstance matter for reproach.16

The context of the prisoners’ use of the term /scéal/, and therefore their understanding of the meaning of the word, is broadly compatible with that offered by Ó Dónaill. However, it is clear from Text Four that the grammatical function of the word is absolutely equivalent to the English word /news/. That is, it functions as a singular noun but implies a plurality of items. The Irish word /scéal/ serves no such function. A standard alternative to /news/, as understood by the prisoners, would be /scéala/, meaning:

1.  news, tidings 2.  word, message 3.  information, disclosure.17

The function of /scéal/, and other such usages, suggests that the Irish language was co-opted by most of the prisoners in the Cages as a type of prison argot. Sykes defines argot in terms of its function in the daily lives of those incarcerated: ‘[T]he more critical function of prison argot would appear to be its utility in ordering and classifying experience within the walls in terms which deal specifically with the major problems of prison life’.18 Since Sykes’s work, argot and its relation to social functions and roles has been studied in detail in a number of prisons.19 Our final extract from Gerry Adams’s prison journal (Text Five) describes the bed-time routine in Cage 11 and effectively shows the tokenistic use of simple, Irish language formulae in argot style. Here, the language helps to shape the mundane experience of prison life in the context of the ideological convictions of the prisoners: Outside it starts to snow. Cage Eleven of Long Kesh settles easily into its wintering over Christmas. The hut OC turns off the lights. The hut is bathed in an orange glow from the lights outside on the perimeter fence. Snowflakes swirl against the windows. The wind

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 51

04/04/2012 16:17

52 Jailtacht howls through the wire. ‘Oíche mhaith, muckers’ Egbert shouts from below his blankets. ‘Onward to freedom,’ Your Man replies. ‘Tiocfaidh ár lá,’ he yells. ‘Nollaig shona dhaoibh,’ says Cedric. ‘Nollaig shona dhaoibh, comrades,’ ‘Nollaig shona,’ we reply. (Text five: Gerry Adams ‘Cage 11’, c.1975–7)20

If, as I have already suggested, this text is a faithful rendition of the language of the prisoners at that time then this is certainly a very early example of the use of the phrase /tiocfaidh ár lá/ (Our day will come). This formulation has been famously critiqued by the Irish language, Belfast poet Ciarán Carson as ‘bad Irish’: According to folklore, Michael Stone, when challenged, gained entrance to the heavily stewarded cemetery by uttering the Sinn Féin graffiti slogan, Tiocfaidh ár lá (our day will come). Apocryphal or not, the phrase is riddled with historical and linguistic ambiguity. Strictly speaking, tiocfaidh ár lá is bad Irish, based on an English subtext; in Irish, one cannot own a day (ownership being a hazy concept in that language) nor can a day have active volition. Accordingly, an alternative expression, beidh an lá linn is sometimes seen inscribed on gable walls – literally, the day will be with us, or in English, the day will come.21

Carson’s assertion has been much repeated,22 often unacknowledged.23 But, it is worth turning once again to Ó Dónaill on the likely grammatical limits of Irish with regard to /tiocfaidh ár lá/. Here, a phrase indicating the appropriate use of the word /óir/ is given as follows: óir (1), conj. For. ~ tiocfaidh an lá, for the day will come. ~ is tú a dúirt é, for it was you who said it. ~ dá mbeifeá linn, for it had been with us.24

The precise construction /óir tiocfaidh an lá/, obviously regarded by Ó Dónaill as grammatically acceptable, casts at least some doubt upon the absolute nature of Carson’s view that /tiocfaidh ár lá/ is ‘strictly speaking […] bad Irish’. Similarly, a traditional Irish language poem entitled ‘Tiocfaidh an lá’ was recently published in a highly regarded collection of Irish language verse.25 This, in turn, implies that something more than the desire for syntactic correctness underlies criticism of the formulation. Oppositions to Jailic style merit careful consideration and I will return to this precise point later. Whatever the grammatical objections to /tiocfaidh ár lá/, the phrase is now widely used and readily understood in both the Irish and English languages throughout the island of Ireland.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 52

04/04/2012 16:17

style 53

Texts, 1976–1981 We know from the chronology of chapter 2 that the situation of the Irish republican prisoners was transformed, both ideologically (with the introduction of the British government policy of criminalisation) and physically (due to the construction of the cellular prison accommodation, the H-Blocks), after 1976. Sometime shortly after this turning point the term ‘Jailic’ was coined by the prisoners for their Irish. This signals the emergence of a self-aware or selfconscious style of Irish, incorporating many argot features. This process was shaped by certain contradictions and tensions which, in turn, directly contributed to the particularities of Jailic as a style. The protesting prisoners had to learn, further develop and use their Irish under challenging conditions. No Irish language material of any sort against which they could moderate their own Irish was readily available, a fact recognised by Séanna Walsh (Walsh, 2008). Thus, their linguistic practices quickly diverged from Irish language norms. Some prisoners reacted to this negatively at the time, for example: I had decided that I wouldn’t learn the Irish language (An Ghaelige) – not just yet. There were too many versions of it doing the rounds, too many different interpretations of how even the verb ‘to be’ was constructed […] it was obvious that the classes were conducted with no coherent knowledge. Everyone was taking a piece from memory and often this was a distorted memory. When asked questions the ‘teachers’ could not give clear or definite answers, or a number of different answers were given. Listening to all of this I decided that whilst I did intend to learn the language I would wait until we had ‘status’.26

Many others, while aware of the emerging peculiarities, were committed to the development of the language as a means of communication in spite of the difficulties. Séanna Walsh, in an interview with Mac Ionnrachtaigh in 2003, asserts that such linguistic features began to emerge as early as 1977: Ní raibh fáil againn éisteacht le Gaeilge ar an raidió agus bhí daoine ag foghlaim Gaeilge ó dhaoine nach raibh Gaeilge ar bith acu sula ndeachaigh siad isteach. Bhí fuaimeanna aisteacha againn ach bhí áis chumarsáide éifeachtach againn ag an am céanna.27 (We weren’t able to listen to Irish on the radio and people were learning Irish from people who hadn’t any Irish before they came in (to prison). We had some strange pronunciations but at the same time we had an effective means of communication.)

Mac Ionnrachtaigh suggests that ‘Bheadh claonadh ann fuaimniú ‘k’ a thabhairt ar ‘ch’ agus ba mhinic a fágadh séimhiú ar lár sa chaint. Mionearraidí nádúrtha

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 53

04/04/2012 16:17

54 Jailtacht

bhí iontu sna cúinsí nár chuir isteach ar thábhacht ghinearálta na Gaeilge’28 (There was a tendency to pronounce ‘ch’ as ‘k’ and often lenition was left from their speech. Given the context, these were natural, minor errors which didn’t interfere with the general importance of the Irish language.) Mac Ionnrachtaigh is correct in identifying this trend at that stage but, as we shall see, such features are not ephemeral, as he implies, but eventually become a part of a set of characteristics that define Jailic style. The prisoners made serious attempts to conform to some sort of linguistic norm through consulting with visiting priests who were known to have considerable education in Irish and with those amongst their own numbers whom they considered to be expert in the language. Séanna Walsh describes their attempts to use two particular priests, along with the more proficient Irish-speakers amongst the prisoners in the different H-Blocks, in this manner: We used Cardinal Ó Fiaich and Fr Faul to explain some phrases and pronounce some of the things we didn’t understand or know how to say. We used stuff from Ireland’s Own, there was an Irish language cartoon in it. Irish material would be smuggled between the blocks. Block 5 was very Irish. If we knew somebody was on their way to Block 4 we’d give them the stuff to take over. It wasn’t as good if you were on Block 4. There weren’t many good Irish-speakers there then so you had to learn from just text, just reading text. You wouldn’t know how to say it (Séanna Walsh interview with the author 2007).

At one stage the prisoners of H-6 (when Gearóid Mac Siacais was resident) was regarded as being especially authoritative but, clearly, they found it impossible to impose a standard form of Irish at all. Where there was awareness of recognised forms, including the provincial Irish dialects, confusion was the order of the day, for example: Words came down from H-6. Their Irish was very good and you would get whatever you could from the pronunciation. It was quite funny at times. There was a lot of uncertainty. At one time it was ‘Tá mé go maith’ [the interviewee uses the Connemara pronunciation of /maith/, that is /mˠaɪ/ in IPA for Irish] and then we started using ‘Tá mé go maith’ [the interviewee uses the Donegal, or Ulster, pronunciation of /maith/, that is /mˠa/ in IPA for Irish] as it was more Ulster. Some things were just wrong like ‘Oíce maithe’ [/ɪcɛ mˠaɪ/ in IPA for Irish] instead of ‘Oíche mhaith’ [/ɪhɛ waɪ/ in IPA for Irish]. We were all saying it like ‘Oíce maithe’ for a long time. Looking back you could never have more favourable time to learn Irish. It was either do that or do nothing (Pilib Ó Rúnaí interview with the author 2007).

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 54

04/04/2012 16:17

style 55

In the absence of a single authoritative guide to pronunciation, those prisoners who depended almost entirely upon the written text for their acquisition of Irish applied their native English language sounds (as variously spoken in the northern part of Ireland) to their pronunciation of Irish. For example, in the case above the pronunciation of /oíche mhaith/ according to Jailic style can only be understood if /ch/ and /mh/ are not recognised as single phonemes, which they are in Irish but are not in English. This is what one prisoner, interviewed during this period by Feldman, means when he states that ‘the Gaelic we were learning, we spoke with our natural accents, which is rough’.29 This is perfectly demonstrated with regard to the last word in the phrase /tiocfaidh ár lá/. According to standard Irish /lá/ is usually pronounced /l̪ˠaː/ but in Jailic style it becomes /l̠ʲa/. The limitations along with the inventiveness of the Irish of the prisoners are amply illustrated in Text Six (below). This is an Irish language poem appended to an article entitled ‘An Ghaeilge’ (The Irish Language) which appeared in the anonymous publication Prison Struggle in 1977.30 The creativity is exemplified by the use of the term neologism /na Sealadaigh/. The word is used here to mean ‘the provos’, or ‘the provisional IRA’. No such word appears in the definitive Irish-English dictionary but it appears to relate to /sealadach/, an adjective meaning ‘temporary or provisional’.31 The addition of the suffix /–aigh/ to the stem /sealad-/ turns the word into a plural noun. Today, the term is certainly in fairly common usage amongst Irish-speakers in the northern part of Ireland. I noted its occurrence on several occasions during the course of Irish language interviews with subjects both within and beyond the Irish republican family. The term appears in line nine of the poem: CEIMIOCHT PHOLAITIUIL STAIRIUIL Ag sior-rith ar mhointeach Na hionroiri sa toil Ni i slabhrai go hastrail Faoi bhuilli an fhuip chrua No i Sasana go haonarach I measc na gcoirpeach gan trua D’fhulaing na hEireannaigh ina milte Chun an bealach a bhua Ionnas go mb’fhiu na Sealadaigh An troid a chriochnu Ce go bhfuil said faoi ghlas. (AN HISTORICAL POLITICAL DISTINCTION Eternal running on bogland At the beck of the invaders

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 55

04/04/2012 16:17

56 Jailtacht

As slaves to Australia Under the blows of the harsh whip Or to England alone In the midst of viciousness without mercy The Irish escaped in their thousands On the road to victory It would be better that the Provisionals Finish the fight Even though they are in prison.) (Text six: Anonymous ‘Ceimiocht Pholaitiuil Stairiuil’, c.1976) 32 Some other features of this text are noteworthy. It was probably written sometime during either 1976 or 1977, yet it embodies some departures from the style of Irish adopted by Bobby Sands in his earliest works in 1975. The traditional Gaelic font has been abandoned in favour of the Roman font. The dot lettering technique denoting lenition, whereby /bh/ is written as /b|/, has also been eschewed. Indeed, the text is entirely naked of all accents. It is very possible that these matters of accent and font simply relate to the fact that the text was typed and that the publishers had no ready access to a typewriter with the appropriate Irish language keys. That said, while born of necessity perhaps, the use of the Roman font for writing of this sort becomes a persistent feature of Jailic style from this point onwards. The Gaelic font, on the other hand, while disappearing from polemical writings, finds a new lease of life in the genre of the political mural. It is extensively used in this context to varying effect (chapter 5). In addition to the distinctive prosody of the ‘rough, natural accents’, Jailic style is characterised by an extensive set of key phrases. This formulaic language was used very extensively by the prisoners with each other as a matter of routine. It appears to be the case that these formulae were readily understood by many individual prisoners without the prisoner having ever set about acquiring the language. Below, I identify and explain some of the most prevalent of these key phrases and their usages as found in the body of original writings by Irish republican prisoners. In each case the key phrase is given in italics, it is contextualised in the extracts from the prisoners’ autobiographical sources, and is followed by a commentary. Key Phrase: An bia beatha Context: • ‘“An bia beatha”: the food of life on the blanket’ (meaning ‘tobacco’).33

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 56

04/04/2012 16:17

style 57

Commentary: This term was certainly very commonly used by the prisoners during this period, especially as protesting prisoners were prohibited from receiving parcels of any sort from outside the prison. Tobacco was, therefore, a highly prized substance. The term appears to be a play on the Irish for whiskey namely /uisce beatha/, which literally translated means /the water of life/. Key Phrase: Buailigí orthu Context: • At the end of 1978, word came down to us that the authorities had decided to forcibly wash and shave us. We knew that this would probably entail a good thumping […] The night before this was to happen, we established communication with H5, which was about two hundred yards from us, by shouting over to them and informing them about the plan to force-wash us the next day. The Dark and the rest of the leadership were in H5. There was a silence at the other end for a while. Then a voice shouted, ‘Buailigí orthu’ (‘Fight them’).34 Commentary: This is the plural imperative form of the verb /buail ar/ meaning /to beat, to hit, or to strike/. Violence between the prisoners and the prison officers was quite common during this period. This order would have been fairly commonly issued by the leadership of the Irish republican prisoners. Key Phrase: Cara/Mo chara Context: • ‘“I’m with ya, Georgie,” replied the Dark. “You’re the big noise from now on, mo chara. You’re the man.”’35 • ‘I see what you mean cara.’36 • ‘[…] so cara the best way […].’37 • S  eán knock on the wall. ‘Oíche mhaith, Bobby,’ he shouted. ‘Oíche mhaith, Seán,’ I replied and added, ‘is your mattress wet [following aggressive hose down by warders of disinfectant under their cell doors]?’ ‘No, it’s not too bad,’ he replied. ‘I’m going to try and get warm under the blankets.’ ‘Maith thú. Oíche mhaith, a chara,’ I said. ‘Oíche mhaith,’ he shouted again.38 • S  o, mo chara, for what it’s worth, I would like to thank you all for what you have done and I hope many others follow your example, and I’m deeply proud to have known you all and prouder still to call you comrades and friends. So venceremos, beidh bua againn eigin lá

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 57

04/04/2012 16:17

58 Jailtacht

eigin. Sealadaigh abú (So [from Spanish] we will triumph, [from Irish] we will be victorious someday. Up the Provos.).39 Commentary: The use of the term /cara/ or /mo chara/ undergoes considerable development during this period. It is very widely used, as is reflected in very many of the ‘comms’, illicit notes used by the prisoners to communicate with each other and with the IRA on the outside. The term /cara/ means ‘friend’ but has been adapted by the prisoners to mean /comrade/. This meaning has both militaristic and political implications to the prisoners. On the one hand it implies /comrade in arms/ and on the other hand /comrade/ is used to signal membership of and belief in the cause of socialism. The construction /mo chara/ may be looked upon as a definitive example of Jailic style for a number of reasons. In the above contexts the construction is faulty as it includes the use of the possessive pronoun /mo/ (my), after which /cara/ is correctly aspirated, thus /chara/. However, the contexts require the use of the vocative case of /cara/, that is /a chara/. Bobby Sands’s use of the term /mo chara/ in the final example of context, above, appears to have both transformed and fixed the meaning of /mo chara/. The source is the Saturday 14 March entry to his hunger strike diary. Here, Bobby Sands personalises the term; he uses it to imply an intimacy which is at once both particular and universal, at least in the context of the Irish republican family. While he is addressing a real colleague, his IRA contact outside of the prison, his use of the anonymising formula allows others to take on the identity of /mo chara/. Key Phrase: Faoi ghlas Context: • ‘Faoi ghlas’, Irish for ‘lock up’. When prison guards shouted lock up on republican wings the order would be ignored until the prisoners’ OC would call it. In general the prison guards did not object to this even thought they were not supposed to allow it.40 Commentary: From the above context, this phrase was used and understood as a command by the prisoners. In standard Irish it means /under lock and key/, /locked in/ or /locked up/41 but clearly the prisoners took it as an imperative. This is a good example of how Jailic style completely reworks standard Irish to mean something else in its own particular situation. Key Phrase: Lean ar aghaidh Context: • Don Mulholland, my cellmate, asked me if I thought the riot squad would come in once we were wrecking the place. I said I didn’t know.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 58

04/04/2012 16:17

style 59

I was very nervous and tense. When the order came, it was almost a relief. We could hear the first rumbles of banging and smashing from across the yard in B wing. Whoever had the responsibility of shouting to D wing screamed ‘Lean ar aghaidh’ (go ahead), making sure he was heard and practically losing his larynx in the process […].42 Commentary: This comes from standard Irish meaning /to proceed/.43 It is used here in the singular imperative form which, given the context, is incorrect. Yet, clearly the meaning of the term was well understood as the prisoners responded appropriately to the command by proceeding to smash up the furniture in their cells. Key Phrase: Maith thú Context: • ‘Maith thú, Bobby,’ he said … ‘Maith thú, Seán, take it to you,’ I said.44 • ‘Go h-an mhaith, Seán,’ I said in delight. ‘I made it back with the other.’ I knew what he meant. ‘Maith thú,’ he said, and I began to tell him about my visit and related the happenings with the searches and all the rest.45 • ‘Maith thú,’ said the man who was about to do the shot. ‘You can guide us. … Push it on out, Gerard, nice and gently. That’s it! Easy, easy! Maith thú, Gerard. The button’s sitting on top of the paper. Pull it back in to you slowly! Go ahead, go ahead! Take it easy.’46 • ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘Get the effort up the line,’ I said. ‘Maith thú,’ he replied and called up the line for the improvised wick. ‘Are you listening, Seán?’ I asked and added, ‘I’ll swing you in a “blow” when I send the line back again. Okay?’ ‘Maith thú,’ he replied once again.47 Commentary: This phrase appears very commonly in the contemporaneous prison writings of Bobby Sands. In context, it is well understood and accords to its meaning in standard Irish. However, the distinctive contribution of the term to our understanding of Jailic style is in its widespread use in English language dialogue. The peppering of English with such terms is a persistent feature of the language of the prisoners from this point onwards. Obviously, whether a prisoner understood Irish or not, it was generally accepted that he would know the key phrases that often stitched their communications together. Key Phrase: Mar ’s gnath Context: • Beatings became so routine that, when the OC would ask each cell

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 59

04/04/2012 16:17

60 Jailtacht

in turn for an account of the shift, the reply became the standard ‘Mar’s gnath’ (the usual).48 Commentary: The term in standard Irish is /mar is gnáth/ (as is usual/as usual). The meaning given by the prisoners in the above context is not wholly precise. It also lacks the appropriate accent, hence /gnath/ instead of /gnáth/. Both of these are characteristics of Jailic style. Key Phrase: Ní nach ionadh Context: • ‘Dollhead laughed as I squatted in the corner, and he shouted to Hector McNeill in Irish: “McNeill, the shite’s runnin’ out of O’Rawe.” Hector shouted back: “Ní nach ionadh.”’49 Commentary: This idiomatic phrase, meaning /no wonder/ or /not surprisingly/, is very commonly taught to learners of Irish. It is readily used as a stock phrase by learners from a very early point in the process of acquiring the language. Key Phrase: –on the air/–off the air Context: • Bear on the air.50 • I yelled in Gaelic again, ‘Bear off the air,’ to let the boys know […].51 • ‘Blankets on the air [delivery of blankets to cells by warders]!’ I yelled in Gaelic to let the boys know.52 • ‘Dinner up!’ one of the lads shouted in Gaelic.53 • ‘Tea on the air [cup of tea for prisoners],’ some of the lads shouted in Gaelic.54 • ‘Cups off the air [removal of tea cups from cells],’ came the cry.55 Commentary: These phrases were very commonly used indeed, although I have not been able to locate the Irish language version of them. /–on the air/ and /–off the air/ appear to have been used in conjunction with a very wide range of objects as is seen in the above contexts. According to some sources the phrase is derived from the 1978 feature film Convoy where the use of walkie-talkie radios by the truckers popularised such turns of speech.56 This style is known as ‘CB talk’ or ‘CB slang’ and the word /bear/ is used in various combinations to mean /police/.57

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 60

04/04/2012 16:17

style 61

Key Phrase: Rang anois Context: • I went back to my pacing once again as one of the boys shouted Rang anois, summoning the lads to their doors for an Irish language class.58 • A  t times of tension when wings contacted each other for information and scéal, the night guard screw often banged his baton on the grille to interrupt the contact. They used to disrupt our ranganna in this way also, banging the grilles or battering the door when múinteoir agus dáltaí were shouting their lessons and writing them down. On occasions, screws sneaked down the wing and just as a múinteoir was spelling out a word, lashed a bucket of water round him through the gap between the door and the jamb.59 Commentary: The phrase /rang anois/, as with /faoi ghlas/ and /mar is gnáth/, had a clearly defined meaning and was a part of the linguistic structure of the daily routine for the Irish republican prisoners. It initiated Irish language lessons in this period. The Irish language lessons provided a context for the development of a range of lexical items which became well established in the English language practices of the prisoners. For example, the prisoner Peadar Whelan in his brief paper on ‘Irish on the Blanket’ (1991) uses the following without explanation: Gaeilgeoir (Irish-speaker), Ranganna (classes), Múinteoirí (teachers), Cara-cille nua (new cell-mate), Comrádaí (comrade), Comhrá (conversation), Ár dteanga dhúchais (our native tongue), Ag déanamh ranga (making a lesson), Ag fail an scéil (having a story), Ag labhairt as ár dteanga féin (speaking our own language), Peann luaidhe (pencil). His use of the Irish language term for /comrade/ is interesting as it illustrates that the prisoners were aware of /comrádaí/ as the proper Irish term but yet it never came close to replacing /cara/ as their word for what they considered to mean /comrade/. Key Phrase: Sin é Context: • Don Mulholland, my cellmate, asked me if I thought the riot squad would come in once we were wrecking the place. I said I didn’t know. I was very nervous and tense. When the order came, it was almost a relief. We could hear the first rumbles of banging and smashing from across the yard in B wing. Whoever had the responsibility of shouting to D wing screamed ‘Lean ar aghaidh’ (go ahead), making sure he was heard and practically losing his larynx in the process … We got the order ‘sin é’ (that’s it) before we broke the table top […].60

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 61

04/04/2012 16:17

62 Jailtacht

Commentary: This term was very often used to sign off ‘comms’ and, later, letters. In such contexts it means /that’s all for now/, or something similar. In the above context it means something quite different. It was used by the prisoners as a command meaning /stop!/. Clearly, /sin é/ is not the imperative form of a verb, indeed it is not a verbal construction of any sort. In standard Irish it means /that is it/.61 It is often uses as a means of signalling the end point of a narration, a kind of vocalised full-stop. But here, once more, we have an example of Jailic style co-opting a standard construction and injecting it with alternative meaning. Key Phrase: Tiocfaidh ár lá Context: • ‘In that oft-quoted phrase that began its life in the dark, dank cells of the H-Blocks so many years ago: “Tiocfaidh ár lá”.’62 • ‘Tiocfaidh ár lá!’ bounced and rebounded in frightening echoes off the walls, shattering the silence like the impact of a brick crashing through a window, raising hearts, bitterness and hate riveted to every single syllable. ‘Our day will come!’ That’s what it meant and our day would come, I told myself […].63 • ‘Tiocfaidh ár lá!’ I screamed out the door. One of the boys down the wing began to sing. A Nation Once Again resounded and echoed from behind every door and everyone joined in to break that ungodly silence, lifting our spirits and bolstering our shaken morale. The stench from the reeking urine streamed in through the door, flooding my eyes with tears and catching the back of my throat. The orderlies attempted a rendering of The Sash, but were drowned out with an explosion of noise as the now empty po’s rattled and battered the scarred doors in defiance and anger. ‘Tiocfaidh ár lá! All right!’ I said, ‘and the sooner the better.’ I went back to my task of getting rid of the small remaining pool of urine at my feet, pushing it out under the door. The noise began to die away as the last drops of urine disappeared in a trickle out the door. I threw the po into the corner upon the rubbish and sat down on my mattress, my feet avoiding the damp area, my mind in turmoil, exhausted and strained, begging relief and comfort that was never gained. The noise died completely. Seán rapped on the wall, concerned as ever. ‘All right, Bobby?’ he called. ‘I’m all right, Seán. What about yourself?’ ‘They didn’t even come to my cell,’ he replied. ‘Who was dragged out?’ I asked. ‘I don’t know,’ he said […].64 • ‘Tiocfaidh ár lá’ I said to myself. ‘Tiocfaidh ár lá’.65

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 62

04/04/2012 16:17

style 63

• ‘I’m scríosta,’ says he. ‘They near broke my two legs.’ ‘I got the same myself,’ says I, walking up and down with only a teacloth around me, trying to get warm. ‘Tiocfaidh ár lá,’ says the Effort [name of prisoner], mumbling and cursing away to himself and mentally killing all sorts of screws.66 Commentary: The grammatical merits of this formula have already been discussed but it is worth contextualising /tiocfaidh ár lá/. Richard O’Rawe describes it as ‘the battlecry of the Blanketmen’.67 This is a purposeful description. As can be seen from the above contexts, the phrase was used very frequently by the prisoners as a means of expressing defiance. Bobby Sands’s language in particular underscores the violence implicit in the term ‘like a brick crashing through a window’.68 In some cases the prisoners borrowed linguistic formulae from popular Irish culture. Text Seven provides one excellent example of this. The phrase /tchífidh muid éirí na gealaí/ (we will see the rising of the moon), which concludes the text, is a reference to the very popular nineteenth century ballad about United Irishmen rebellion of 1798 entitled ‘The Rising of the Moon’ by John Keegan ‘Leo’ Casey (1846–70), a member of the Fenians, a violent Irish revolutionary movement. The song was rediscovered by the Irish folk music group Tommy Makem and the Clancy Brothers in the late 1960s. Bobby Sands’s text has the effect of recontextualising this turn of phrase and, as we shall see in chapter 5, it becomes a formulaic construction which is often used in Irish republican murals in its Irish language form, exactly as devised by Bobby Sands. In addition, the form /tchífidh muid/ (we will see) is idiomatic, the standard form being /feicfimid/.69 This particular idiomatic form confirms that the type of Irish being used in this instance is very much in the nature of second language acquisition. While the standard form is certainly taught to learners of Irish, the idiomatic form is also widely taught, specifically as a means of making the spoken Irish of second language learners appear more colloquial. One final point – the word /céalacán/, which appears in line one of Text Seven, is very significant and certainly merits attention and I will examine it in detail at a later point in the book. Lá fadálach ab ea é. Bhí mé ag smaoineamh inniu ar an chéalacán seo. Deireann daoine a lán faoin chorp ach ní chuireann muinín sa chorp ar bith. Measaim ceart go leor go bhfuil saghas troda. An dtús ní ghlacann leis an chorp an easpaidh bidh, is fulaingíonn sé ón chathú bith, is greithe áirithe eile a bhíonn ag síorchlipeadh an choirp. Troideann an corp ar ais ceart go leor, ach deireadh an lae, téann achan rud ar ais chuig an phríomhrud, is é sin an mheabhair. Is é an mheabhair an rud is tábhachtaí. Mura bhfuil meabhair láidir agat chun cur in aghaidh le achan rud, ní mhairfidh. Ní bheadh aon

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 63

04/04/2012 16:17

64 Jailtacht sprid troda agat. Is ansin cen áit as a dtigeann an mheabhair cheart seo. B’fhéidir as an fhonn saoirse. Ní hé cinnte gurb é an áit as a dtigeann sé. Mura bhfuil siad in inmhe an fonn saoirse a scriosadh, ní bheadh siad in inmhe tú féin a bhriseadh. Ní bhrisfidh siad mé mar tá an fonn saoirse, agus saoirse mhuintir na hEireann i mo chroí. Tiocfaidh lá éigin nuair a bheidh an fonn saoirse seo le taispeáint ag daoine go léir na hEireann ansin tchífidh muid éirí na gealaí. (Translated by Bobby Sands Trust, this reads as follows: It’s been a long day. I was thinking today about the hunger strike. People say a lot about the body, but don’t trust it. I consider that there is a kind of fight indeed. Firstly the body doesn’t accept the lack of food, and it suffers from the temptation of food, and from other aspects which gnaw at it perpetually. The body fights back sure enough, but at the end of the day everything returns to the primary consideration, that is, the mind. The mind is the most important. But then where does this proper mentality stem from? Perhaps from one’s desire for freedom. It isn’t certain that that’s where it comes from. If they aren’t able to destroy the desire for freedom, they won’t break you. They won’t break me because the desire for freedom, and the freedom of the Irish people, is in my heart. The day will dawn when all the people of Ireland will have the desire for freedom to show. It is then we’ll see the rising of the moon.) (Text seven: Bobby Sands ‘Lá Pádraig’, 1981)70

Text Eight (below) is from a tombstone. Given the permanence of such monuments and their memorial nature, this text can be regarded as having been especially important. It was erected in 1981 over the graves of two of the prisoners who died during the hunger strike. I have transcribed the text from the tombstone (Plate 6; see colour plate section) as follows:

I ndíl cuimhne ar Vol. FRANCIS HUGHES oglaigh na hEireann AGED 25 YEARS DIED 12TH MAY AFTER 59 DAYS ON HUNGER STRIKE Vol. THOMAS McELWEE oglaigh na hEireann AGED 23 YEARS DIED 8TH AUGUST 1981 AFTER 62 DAYS ON HUNGER STRIKE I meas laochra na ngeal go raibh a n-anamacha

ó háodha

mac giolla bhuídhe

(Text eight: Hunger strikers’ gravestone, 1981)71

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 64

04/04/2012 16:17

style 65

The text on this tombstone is a particularly good example of Jailic style in a number of ways. It incorporates several formulaic constructions in Irish. The tombstone is crowned by the inscription /I ndíl cuimhne ar/. This is a very typical memorial inscription meaning /In loving memory/. The particular inscription is noteworthy as it would appear to be the case that from around this point onwards this construction is very commonly used in a variety of contexts where the Irish republican movement wishes to commemorate their dead, whether on other tombstones, as a header to obituaries, on memorial plaques, or on political murals. Another of these formulae, namely /oglaigh na hEireann/, is an historical term. It was coined during the early part of the twentieth century and means /the Irish Volunteers/. Here, the term is used to identify the dead as members of the provisional IRA. The term /oglaigh/ is the plural form of /óglach/ which, in historical literary context means /young warrior/. The word conjures up the Romantic values of late nineteenth century and early twentieth century Irish nationalism. The use of the term here serves two purposes. It connects the provisional IRA to the rather successful revolutionary organisations of early twentieth century Ireland, thereby legitimising their late twentieth century cause. Also, it serves to shift the provisional IRA to a heroic, romantic plane of Gaelic warriorhood as defined in medieval Irish literature, such as the story of Cú Chulainn, the Táin and An Fhiannaíocht. The imagery engraved on the tombstone reflects this tone (Plate 6; see colour plate section). This element is underlined by the inscription at the bottom end of the tombstone which reads /I meas laochra na ngeal go raibh a n-anamacha/ (May their souls be with the heroes of the Gaels). This construction, or very similar versions of it, becomes common in Irish republican memorial texts, including murals. For example, McCormick (n.d.) records (in 1999, but the mural itself is earlier than this) a mural in the Short Strand area of Belfast commemorating local Irish republicans killed by loyalists with the Irish language inscription /I measc laochra na nGael go raibh a nainmeacha/ which he translates as /Their names are among the heroes of the Gaels/.72 The Irish language material in Text Eight appears in a mixture of the Roman font – /I ndíl cuimhne ar/ and the traditional Gaelic font – /oglaigh na hEireann/ and /I meas laochra na ngeal go raibh a n-anamacha/. In actual fact, it could be easily argued that the word /na hEireann/, the genitive form of Ireland, incorporates several fonts including Bauhaus – as with the latter /E/; Roman – as with the latter /r/; and Gaelic – as with the latter /n/. The personal names of the dead hunger strikers appear to have been rendered in a font which is closer to the Gaelic type than Roman /ó háodha/ and /mac giolla bhuídhe/. This hybridity can be read as a definitive feature of Jailic style. However, it is also indicative of a lack of certainty. This is confirmed by the inclusion of a number of small mistakes in the text. For example, two accents are missing from the

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 65

04/04/2012 16:17

66 Jailtacht

phrase /oglaigh na hEireann/ which ought to read /óglaigh na hÈireann/. In the body of the phrase /I meas laochra na ngeal go raibh a n-anamacha/ the word /meas/ ought to be spelt /measc/, or /measc/, and the word/ na ngeal/, the plural genitive form of /gael/, ought to read /na ngael/. A reflection on the bilingual (English-Irish) nature of the text would cause one to note that it is perfectly possible to understand the simple factual content of the text through reading the English language material alone, as below: Vol. FRANCIS HUGHES AGED 25 YEARS DIED 12TH MAY AFTER 59 DAYS ON HUNGER STRIKE Vol. THOMAS McELWEE AGED 23 YEARS DIED 8TH AUGUST 1981 AFTER 62 DAYS ON HUNGER STRIKE

Clearly, the Irish language text is not essential to understanding who died, when and how, but it is essential to understanding how all of that might be interpreted. Thus, Jailic style can be said to operate on more than one communicative level. My final text from this period is a glossary produced in a book by Brian Campbell, a former Irish republican prisoner. The book comprises the recollections of a number of his colleagues of their experiences in the H-Blocks. Gerry Adams’s glossary (Text Two) illustrates something of the nature of the Irish language of the Irish republican prisoners held in the Cages up until 1976, while Brian Campbell’s glossary (Text Nine) similarly provides an insight into the language of the prisoners incarcerated in the H-Blocks from 1976 up until 1981. A cursory comparison between the two reveals some common ground but there are some significant differences. Language behaviour differed quite substantially between the two sorts of imprisonment and, as a result, certain features of the Irish language were clearly refashioned, thereby leading to the development of Jailic style. The importance of this glossary is that it is an authoritative expression of the prisoners’ shared understanding of the meaning of a range of precise lexical items. I have reproduced a selection of the items in the glossary in Text Nine in order to highlight a few of them. The word /teac/ is an excellent example of Jailic. It is not a proper word in the Irish language; rather it is a truncation of the word /teachtaireacht/ (message/errand). The significance of /teac/ is that it is not /teach/. That is, if a native speaker of Irish were to truncate /teachtaireacht/ they would probably do so by producing /teach/ or perhaps /teacht/ but certainly not /teac/. The reason for this is that /ch/ in /teachtaireacht/ comprises a single phoneme and it is pronounced /ç/ in IPA for Irish. That the prisoners produced the word /teac/ shows that their own pronunciation of /teachtaireacht/ did not treat /ch/ as a discrete phonetic unit

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 66

04/04/2012 16:17

style 67

and that instead the /c/ and /h/ were separated and the former pronounced /c/ in IPA for Irish and the latter was unvoiced. Beart – An Irish word meaning parcel. A beart was a tightly packed parcel of tobacco wrapped in cling film and smuggled in during visits; it also often contained pens, pencil leads, flints, cigarette papers and a few comms. As Blanketmen were not allowed tobacco, a beart was the most precious commodity in the H Blocks. Big cell – Cell 26 or, in Irish, an cillín mór. In each wing cell 26 is a double cell and during the protest it was used to store prison uniforms which men wore only to go on visits, and prison trousers which were worn to attend mass. However, cell 26 is significant in the memory of Blanketmen because mirror searches were regularly conducted there, so it was the scene of much brutality. Cillín mór – See ‘big cell’ above. Circle – The administrative area within each H-Block, containing offices, medical room, control room and screws’ mess. It is located in the cross-bar of the H (the leges being four wings). The area is in fact rectangular; the name is a legacy of Victorian prisons where the administration area was literally circular and wings radiated from it like the spokes of a wheel. Comm – Abbreviation of ‘communication’. A note written on cigarette paper or prison-issue toilet paper and wrapped in cling-film (such a note is also known as a teac – see below). Comms were the lifeblood of the Blanket protest, vital both for inter-block communication and communication with outside. Craic/crack – A peculiarly Irish term meaning fun or good time. It also occurs in the phrase ‘What’s the craic?’, meaning ‘What’s happening?’ Fáinne – Irish for ring or circle (see above). Pluid – Irish for blanket. Rang(anna) – Irish for class(es). Ranganna Gaeilge were a part of life on the Blanket and, in spite of the adverse conditions, they were so successful that Irish soon became the everyday language of the Blocks. Scéal – Irish for news or story. Next to tobacco, scéal was the thing upon which Blanketmen thrived. Scéalaí – Irish for storyteller – that is, the man who told the nightly ‘book at bedtime’ out the door. Sin é – Irish for ‘that’s it’. It was shouted by the OC whenever he wanted to get some attention in a noisy wing, so it came to mean effectively ‘Quiet’. Stailc – Irish for strike: stailc ocrais is hunger strike. Stailceoir(í) – Striker(s). Teac – Abbreviation of teachtaireacht, an Irish word meaning message; a teac is a comm. (see above). (Text nine: Brian Campbell ‘Glossary’)73

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 67

04/04/2012 16:17

68 Jailtacht

Two other items are worth some attention here. The description offered by Brian Campbell for the formulaic construction /sin é/ confirms my understanding of the development of the various meanings of the term in Jailic but, as we have already seen, it probably meant more in practice than simply /Quiet!/. Secondly, the appearance of the term /stailc ocrais/ to mean /hunger strike/, instead of /céalacán/ (a. Bobby Sands, Text Seven, above), would appear to be significant. The Irish language used by Bobby Sands was widely regarded as a template for the other prisoners and the fact that this authoritative glossary asserts a very different Irish language term, without making any reference whatsoever to /céalacán/, demonstrates that the Irish language of the prisoners underwent further meaningful evolution following the death of Bobby Sands. This next stage in that evolutionary process saw to the winnowing of many of the errors, in particular with regard to spelling, which characterised the emergent Jailic style up until 1981. Texts, 1981–1994 The chronological overview in chapter 2 shows that Irish language activity inside the prison went through a lull during the first half of the 1980s but, during the second half of the decade, levels of activity began to rise. Some Irish republican prisoners had begun to produce their own publications. As they were no longer on protest they had much fuller access to education facilities and were able to freely associate with each other. First of all, Iris Bheag was created in 1988. This was described by Irish republicans as ‘an internal theoretical journal of Sinn Féin’.74 A volume of creative writing entitled Scairt Amach was published in 1989. This arose from a poetry workshop of 1988.75 Then, a journal An Glór Gafa was published from 1989 up until to 1999. Also, much material was produced in 1991, the occasion of the tenth anniversary of the hunger strike, and published in a multi-edited volume Nor Meekly Serve My Time.76 However, despite their titles, by far the greater part of the content of these publications was in English. Some former prisoners, in conjunction with other Irish republicans, became engaged in Irish language activity outside of prison in this period. This is perfectly illustrated in a pair of articles on the language penned by Seosamh Cnamh (aka Cnámh), an ex-prisoner, and Máirtín Ó Muilleoir, an Irish republican but not an ex-prisoner. He acquired his Irish through the education system and studied the subject at university. The Irish language article by Cnamh is interesting in so far as a substantial effort has been made to pencil in the appropriate accents to the typed text, for example: ‘TÁ SINN FÉIN i ndiaidh ráiteas a eiseadh ag taispeáint an neamhaird atá á thabhairt ag rialtas na Breataine ar an nGaeilge’.77 From this text it is possible to detect the increasing influence of standard Irish on the language of former prisoners. During the course of my

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 68

04/04/2012 16:17

style 69

interviews with many former prisoners it became clear that many of them, while they felt confident of their own form of Irish in prison, lost that confidence when confronted with the Irish of the education system, the broadcast and print media and the Gaeltacht (e.g. Pilib Ó Rúnaí interview with the author 2007). Some, such as Pilib Ó Rúnaí, entered university in order to get a degree in Irish. The sensitivity of the (ex-)prisoners, and Irish republicans more generally, to the peculiarities of Jailic is projected in Text Ten, which is an extract from a play originally written in English by Peter Sheridan (aka Peadar Ó Sioradáin) and translated into Irish by Gearóid Ó Cairealláin, a Sinn Féin activitist and Irish language enthusiast from west Belfast. The extract is a dialogue between two Irish republican prisoners: O’Connor: Céalacan. Hunger Strike. Crawford: Caithfidh gur seo an príosún is measa leagtha amach i stair an choilíneachais. [This must be the worst prison in the history of colonisation.] O’Connor: Cad é? [What?] Crawford: Shílfeá go gcuirfeadh said na doirse go díreach os comhair a chéile chun a leithéid seo a dhéanamh furasta. [You would have thought that they would have put the doors directly opposite each other so as to make this sort of thing easier.] O’Connor: D’aonturas leagadh amach mar sin é. [It was done like that on purpose.] Crawford: Do bharúil? [Do you think so?] O’Connor: Tá mé cinnte de. [I’m certain of it.] Crawford: Ní déarfainn féin go raibh said chomh cliste sin. [I wouldn’t have said that they were as clever as that.] O’Connor: Maidir le príosúin, agus daoine a choinneáil faoi ghlas, níl dream ar bith ann níos cliste ná iad. [With regards to prison, and incarcerating people, no-one else is as clever as they are.] (Text ten: Gearóid Ó Cairealláin ‘Dialann Ocrais. Diary of a Hunger Strike’, 1991)78

Cleary, the style of language very much conforms to standard Irish. Having studied the language at university, Gearóid Ó Cairealláin is, of course, aware of the conventions appropriate to standard Irish. His one gesture to Jailic authenticity is in relation to the word /céalacan/, Bobby Sands’s preferred word for /hunger strike/, but even in this case Gearóid Ó Cairealláin’s omission of the accent above the final /a/ reveals his lack of sympathy for Jailic style. Bobby Sands rendered the word /céalacán/. This shift towards standard Irish was eventually beneficial to the development of Jailic style as a new generation of Irish republicans were incarcerated.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 69

04/04/2012 16:17

70 Jailtacht

Not only were prisoners such as Féilim Ó hAdhmaill (in prison from 1994), Declan Moen (in prison from 1989) and Mícheál Mac Giolla Ghunna (in prison from 1990) a younger breed but they were of a different linguistic type. For example, each of these individuals had been educated in the Irish language at university level, one at the University of Ulster and the other at the Queen’s University, Belfast. At the time, the UK media noted with some fascination these very different sorts of recruits to the IRA.79 Their emergence coincided with much improved levels of access to formal education for Irish republican prisoners. This included the introduction of external Irish language teachers, along with authoritative Irish language educational materials. The attitude of the time is portrayed in a short article in the Belfast-based newspaper Sunday Life that carried the headline ‘Jailic speakers face extinction’. The piece claims that ‘Prisoners in Northern Ireland’s Maze jail no longer have a language of their own. For Gaelic experts have spent more than a decade transforming the Jailic – developed inside the prison during the 1970s – into the Irish language taught in schools’.80 In it, an Irish republican prisoner is quoted as saying that ‘When we formalised Irish language teaching here the teachers who came in were appalled by what they heard. Apparently the jail-speak bore little relation to the Irish that was being taught outside. Now, however, all that has changed’.81 The following text (Text Eleven), a poem by one of the Irish republican prisoners of that time, certainly confirms much of this change. Its style is sophisticated and subtle but it is not an obituary for Jailic style – on the contrary, it signals the onset of its full development as a substantive style of Irish: CÉILE CAOMH Mo chéile caomh, Mo leannan lui. Choinnigh mo cheann I do lamha I d’ucht. Téifear mo bhrón Is do mhéara mhaoth I mo ghruaig I mo chroí. (My gentle spouse, My lover. I keep my head In your hands In your breast.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 70

04/04/2012 16:17

style 71

My sorrow is warmed And your tender fingers In my hair In my heart.) (Text eleven: Tarlac Ó Conghalaigh ‘CÉILE CAOMH’,1993–4)82

Texts, 1994–2008 This final stage witnesses the fossilisation of certain distinctive features of the language of the (ex-)prisoners, thereby giving rise to a form of Irish that we can securely call fully developed Jailic style. It appears to me that one of the most important documents in that regard is a set of Irish language teaching and learning materials produced by the prisoners of H-7 around 1995 and entitled ‘An Bunchursa’. The following two texts are derived from that compilation. Text Twelve (below) is an extract from a pronunciation guide and it is uniquely informative as it demonstrates exactly the manner in which the prisoners understood certain phonemes to be pronounced. Text Thirteen is equally valuable in that is sets out the pronunciation of a range of words and phrases commonly used by the prisoners as they acquired Irish. In Text Twelve the guide to the pronunciation of /ch/ at the start of a word indicates that it ought to be pronounced /k/, that is /c/ in IPA for Irish. In standard Irish it ought to be /ç/. fh starting a word is silent

: an fhuinneog (an in-yogue)

the window

gh starting a word is pronounced y

: sa ghairdín (sa yar-jean)

in the garden

ph starting a word is pronounced f

: mo pheann (maw fan)

my pen

sh starting a word is pronounced h

: mo shiopa (maw hupa)

my shop

th starting a word is pronounced h

: le do thoil (le daw hull)

please

ch starting a word is pronounced k

: mo chillín (maw kill-een)

my cell

The pronunciation of bh, dh, or mh starting a word will depend on the nearest subsequent vowel. bh followed by a,o,u is pronounced w :

sa bhosca (sa woss-ka)

in the box

bh followed by e,i is pronounced v :

ní bheidh mé (knee vay may)

I will not be

dh followed by a,o,u is pronounced g :

do dhoras (daw gawrass)

your door

dh followed by e,i is pronounced y :

mo dheartháir(maw yar-har)

my brother

mh followed by a,o,u is pronounced w :

maidin mhaith(ma-gin woy)

good morning

mh followed by e,i is pronounced v :

a mhic (a vic)

his sons

(Text twelve: H7/ Anonymous ‘An Bunchursa. Pronunciation Guide’, c.1995)83

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 71

04/04/2012 16:17

72 Jailtacht

This pattern is reinforced in Text Thirteen. Here, according to the guide the /ch/ in several words is to be pronounced /k/, whether at the start (e.g. /chillín/), middle (e.g. /anocht/, /críochnaithe/, /seacht/, /seachtain/) or end (e.g. /ach/, /litreach/, /óglach/, /fluich/) of a word. Taken together, these texts explain the persistence of what is by now a fixed and definitive feature of Jailic style. Despite the fact of the availability, at this stage, of teaching and learning resources in standard and dialectical forms of Irish, of Irish language radio programming and accessibility to professionally trained Irish language teachers, the prisoners had come to regard this particular feature as normative, in some sense. ag scríobh litreach

(egg screeve litch-rak)

writing a letter

ag glanadh an chillín

(egg glan-oo an kil-een)

cleaning the cell

ag dul ar cuairt

(egg gul air coo-erch)

going on a visit

amárach

(a-mar-ack)

tomorrow

anocht

(a-nawkt)

tonight

an tseachtain seo caite

(an chaktin shuh kye-chah)

last week

ach

(ak)

but

fliuch

(fluck)

wet

buachaill

(boo-hal)

boy

críochnaithe

(creek-knee-ha)

finished

dearg

(jarg)

red

gorm

(gawrm)

blue

amach

(a-mock)

out

isteach

(ish-chak)

in

a seacht

(a shockt)

seven

acu

(ack-oo)

at them

gach seachtain

(gak shack-tin)

every week

óglach

(ogue-lak)

volunteer

(Text thirteen: H7/Anonymous ‘An Bunchursa’, c.1995)84

The following two texts represent a different sort of stylistic development. Text Fourteen (below) is a macaronic poem by the prisoner Tarlac Ó Conghalaigh. Here, he effectively consolidates /fuiseog/ as a poetic device with political significance, in accordance with the meaning intended by Bobby Sands. Certainly, both he, and Bobby Sands, would not have been aware of Muldoon’s contention that, in poetic context, /fuiseog/ is a euphemism for the vulva. It is meant to be read as a double entendre in early modern Irish poetry: ‘It certainly does mean a “lark”, but the first component of it is a term for the vulva,

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 72

04/04/2012 16:17

style 73

an phis’.85 ‘Nuair nach fuiseog atá ann’ (When it’s not a lark) clearly has sexual undertones but /fuiseog/ is emblematic of other concerns to the poet. NUAIR NACH FUISEOG ATÁ ANN Catríona soft-spoke the paleness of a cloudless sunrise. Ireland slept in her soft blonde hair, awoke and stretched. Éamonn, at seventy had lived betrayal and defeat, raged momentarily and watched the wild rose burst pinkly from the sally thicket. A chair beside a stove, a window, and a hedge. White paint flaking off grey wood, rain splashed pane, old man slouched between a table and a stove. It was an hour before sunrise. His chest was the emptiness of a far silence and the bog closeted its secret for a future generation: the carefree military reports of unspoken cleansing. The sun rose and it was day. Birds sang and chattered. Lorries trundled on the motorway. Éamonn went to bed and slept, and Catríona sang, go binn milis,

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 73

04/04/2012 16:17

74 Jailtacht

mar fhuiseog mhóna, crochadh ar an néal thar an bhloc. ((…) and Catríona sang, sweetly, like the bog lark, hanging on the cloud over the block.) (Text fourteen: Tarlac Ó Conghalaigh ‘NUAIR NACH FUISEOG ATÁ ANN’,1997–8)

The use of /fuiseoige/ as a poetic device more generally is confirmed by the Belfast-born poet Medbh McGuckian in her poem ‘Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige’. This poem arose from a series of poetry workshops she held with the prisoners in the H-Blocks during 1993.87 The poem itself was written in 1997 and published in 2001. Here, McGuckian recognises, in the highly convoluted style she has made her own, the emergence of an important form of expression of Irish. ‘Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige’ was the name given to the prisoners for the Irishspeaking wings on the H-Blocks, established at around the time McGuckian was conducting her poetry workshops. Despite the oppressive architecture of imprisonment ‘cubes of sky-wielded silence’, language emerges ‘word against word’. But the equivocal nature of her recognition may be read in ‘a thinking’ which ‘broods in the wound, an admitted infection’. Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige New Year’s Day, 1997 Cubes of sky-wielded silence yellow the light: the light that would be glad to bathe itself in you. When for years I have months and my soul chimes like an inhabited word, a thinking which sucks its substance, barer now, Enticing meaning, laying

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 74

04/04/2012 16:17

style 75

Word against word Like pairs of people, broods in the wound, an admitted infection, the highroad’s central greatest ought. (Text fifteen: Medbh McGuckian ‘Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige,’ c.1997)88

She uncovers her ambivalence much more directly in an interview with Rand Brandes.89 This ambiguity came as something of a personal disappointment to Tarlac Ó Conghalaigh who had been engaged in correspondence of an intellectual nature with McGuckian following her workshops. He had the impression that her volume Captain Lavender (1994)90 was in some sense sympathetic to the Irish republican political prisoner and prisoner of war (Ó Conghalaigh, 1994?).91 In her 1997 interview McGuckian clarifies that the dedication of the poems in Part 2 of that collection ‘to the prisoners’ is not to be read literally but is instead a metaphor for her mourning the death of her father. He died in the time between her receiving and then accepting the invitation to conduct the workshops. Also, she claims in the interview that during the workshops she felt that the Irish republican prisoners were asking her to commit her poetry to a political position and that this was a matter of some tension. Ó Conghalaigh contends that McGuckian missed the point. Their point was that Heaney and all the northern poets, in describing the conflict in Northern Ireland as sectarian, were in fact giving succour to the British (colonial) position in Ireland.92 It was recognition of the antiimperial nature of the Irish republican struggle that they sought. That said, while McGuckian is ambiguous with regard to the politics, she pays tribute to the poetic qualities of Tarlac Ó Conghalaigh: ‘He writes a thin short line but with great intensity and is recognizable in a way a poet ought to be’.93 This is a very important point for this case study as it indicates a crucial point in the emergence of a self-confident Jailic style. Other sources confirm this in very different ways. For example, two ex-prisoners, Laurence McKeown and Brian Campbell, wrote the screenplay for a feature film based upon the hunger strike entitled H3.94 I have reproduced below (Text Sixteen) a set of dialogues from four scenes from H3: (Scene 1) Prisoner: OK, a bhuachaillí. Tá áthas mór orainn. Tá an bia beatha ar a’ slí chugaibh. (Subtitle: OK lads. Happy days. The food of life is on its way.)

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 75

04/04/2012 16:17

76 Jailtacht (Scene 2) Prisoner: Seamy, tá teac ar an slí chugat. (Subtitle: Seamy, there’s a comm on the way to you.) Seamy: Maith go leor. (Subtitle: OK) (Scene 3) Seamy: H4! Eistigí. Fuaireamar focal on taobh amuigh go mbeidh Bobby ag dul chun tosaigh sa toghcháin. An bhfuil sibh sin? (Subtitle: H4! Listen! We got word from the outside that Bobby will stand in the election. Did you get that?) (Scene 4) Declan: OK lads. Just a second. Eistigí, le do thoil. Tá dhá seachtain until the toghcháin. We need dhá chead litreacha from … (Subtitle: Listen please. It’s two weeks until the election. We need two hundred letters from … ) Seamy: an sciathán seo. (Subtitle: this wing.) Declan: an sciathan seo. And we need them anois. Terry and Kevin, you cover na cumainn lúthchleas gael. Liam and Madra, na nuachtain. Peadar and Tony … (Subtitle: this wing. And we need them now. Terry and Kevin, you cover the GAA clubs. Liam and Madra, the newspapers. Peadar and Tony … ) Seamy: na scoileanna. (Subtitle: the schools) Declan: na scoileanna. Pat and Proinsias, na ceard cumainn. (Subtitle: the schools. Pat and Proinsias, the trade unions.) (Text sixteen: Laurence McKeown and Brian Campbell ‘Dialogues’ from ‘H3’, 2001)

In each of these the language of the prisoners is cast in authentic Jailic style, a fact much appreciated by Seaghan Ó Murchú in his review of the film in the journal The Blanket, a publication which is broadly sympathetic to Irish republicanism: A final note of appreciation for the decision to keep a significant amount of the dialogue in Jailic. Fascinating in its subversion of Gaelic, this invented dialect expresses the true force of the republican ideal better than the images or performances alone. For it makes the familiar elements of the prison movie […] unfamiliar and therefore more powerful. […] They [McKeown and Campbell]

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 76

04/04/2012 16:17

style 77 render in two tongues a report by 1981’s survivors, adding at last to the increasingly assured language of Irish film their fluent scéal.95

We can see in Text Sixteen some lexical items that are definitive of Jailic namely /an bia beatha/ and /teac/. The pronunciation of other words accurately echoes the sound of Jailic, for example /toghcháin/, meaning /election/, is pronounced /t̪ˠoːacanʲ/, when in standard Irish it is/t̪ˠɔaçanʲ/. Similarly, the /ch/ in /dhá chead litreacha/, meaning /two hundred letters/; in /lúthchleas/, meaning /athletic games/; and elsewhere in the dialogues is pronounced /c/ and not /ç/. The most recent film portrayal of the H-Blocks, the prizewinning Hunger,96 contains some sparse dialogue which gets close to the denuded aesthetics of Jailic. That there is almost no dialogue whatsoever throughout much of the film reinforces the impact of the little Jailic we hear spoken by the prisoners. In the dialogues below (Text Seventeen) only the most basic of formulae survive the cut – an initial greeting, a word of welcome, a warning: (Scene 1) Prisoner 1, Gerry Campbell: Cad é mar atá tú[How are you]? Prisoner 2, Davey Gillen: Huh? Prisoner 1: What’s your surname again? Prisoner 2: Gillen. Prisoner 1: Gillen. Francie Quin. Fáilte romhat [Welcome]. Francie Quin. Do you know him? Prisoner 2: No. (Scene 2) Prisoner 1: Bí reidh anois [Get ready now]. Prisoner 2: What? Prisoner 1: Get ready. (Text seventeen: Enda Walsh and Steve McQueen ‘Dialogues’ from ‘Hunger’, 2008)

The confidence of former Irish republican prisoners in Jailic as the linguistic style that defines their own Irish language behaviour is evident in various public performances. For example, in an interview on the Irish language television channel TG4, former IRA prisoner Tommy McKearney is quite fluent but certain markers are obvious in his speech – /chomh/ pronounced as if it were /comh/, /chroi/ as if it were /croi/ (Text Eighteen). And while such markers are marginally less apparent in the speech of Séanna Walsh, on an altogether more formal occasion and one for which he would have no doubt prepared, the distinctive prosody of Jailic style is easily heard in his address. For example, / teacht/ is indeed pronounced /teact/, /a chairde/ is pronounced /a cairde/ and

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 77

04/04/2012 16:17

78 Jailtacht

/ochtar/ is pronounced /octar/. I have transcribed the Irish language material from his speech below (Text Nineteen) so that the reader may also become the informed listener by accessing his performance on YouTube. Ag an am sin is cuimhin liom go raibh a lán daoine ag ra bhí muid [insert /in/] ann a bheith ag troid you know go deo but sílimse féin ina [correction /imo/] chroi féin bhí fhios acu nach rabhmar in ann a bheith ag troid go deo. Tar éis na blianta so you know bhí cúpla meon ann. An meon oscailte agus ar thaobh amháin nó lámh amháin agus ar an lámh eile bhí meon fudaithe [? Translated in subtitles as /escapist/, Ir. /éalúchach/] ann chomh maith agus sin mo bháruil go raibh fhios ag an cuid is mo acu nach rabhmar in ann leanúint ar aghaidh leis an cogadh. (At that time I remember that a lot of people were saying that we were able to fight you know forever but I myself think in my own heart that they knew that we weren’t able to fight forever. After the years so you know there were two mindsets. The open mind on one side or on one hand and on the other hand there was an escapist mindset as well and it’s my opinion that the majority of them knew that we weren’t able to continue with the war.) (Text eighteen: Tommy McKearney ‘Sos Cogaidh’, 2004)97

Is onóir domhsa teacht seo inniu agus labhairt libh. Tréimhse suimiúil é seo i stair na hÉireann, tréimhse stairiúil. Ach na déanfaimid [?correction ‘ní dhéanfaimid’] dearmad ar cén fáth go bhfuilimid bailithe anseo inniu agus go bhfuil daoine eile bailithe fud fad na hÉireann i gcuimhne ar na stailceoiri ocrais ochto haon agus an fáth céanna go mbeidh muintir Thír Eoghain cruinnithe ar fud an contae sin i gcuimhne ar an ochtar Lochgall an tseachtain seo freisin. […] Imígí anois a chairde, tá obair le déanamh. Go raibh míle maith agaibh. (It is an honour for me to come here today and speak with you. This is an interesting period in the history of Ireland, an historical period. But don’t forget the reason why we are gathered here today and other people gathered throughout Ireland in remembrance of the hunger strikers of eighty-one and the same reason that the people of Tyrone will also gather this week throughout this county in remembrance of the Lochgall eight […] Go now friends, there is work to do. Thank you very much.) (Text nineteen: Séanna Walsh ‘Irish republican funeral oration’, 2007)98

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 78

04/04/2012 16:17

style 79

For a few years now the type of language associated with the Irish-speaking community in Northern Ireland has been influenced by the Irish of the prisoners. Belfast in particular has become a confluence for different forms of Irish and, in a certain sense, has discovered its own unique expression of the language. Jailic style has been adopted by a new, young generation of Irish-speakers in the city for whom the Irish republican prison protest is an historical memory rather than a formative experience. The hip-hop poetry of Gearóid Mac Lochlainn is wholly characteristic of this. Take this extract from the poem ‘Ag Siopadóireacht’ (Shopping) from his 2002 book Sruth Teangacha. Stream of Tongues, for example:



Ach bhí fhios ag an domhan is a mháthair go raibh sé rómhall dó sin. Yessss! A ghlaoigh Mo Chara, a dhorn san aer, ‘Tiocfaidh ár lá!’ Is d’imigh muid linn thar Halla na Cathrach lena Union Jack cromtha, muid ag gáire is ag caint ar cheol is ar shiopadóireacht. (English language version by Mac Lochlainn: But the world and his mother knew it was too late for that. Yessss! Yelled Mo Chara, fisting the air, ‘Tiocfaidh ár lá!’ And off we went past the City Hall where the Union Jack hung limp and forlorn and we talked about music, hip hop and freestyle. And we laughed as we did our shopping.)

(Text twenty: Gearóid Mac Lochlainn ‘Ag Siopadóireacht’, 2002)99

Two classic Jailic constructions figure prominently in the text, /mo chara/ and /tiocfaidh ár lá/. Moreover, they are not decorative appendages but are central to understanding the poets’ sense of the world. /mo chara/ is his mate but by implication he is your Irish republican everyman. /tiocfaidh ár lá/ is the voice of youthful rebellion, of contemporary youth culture – the language of hip hop, of going downtown, of kicking authority up the arse. His language has been succinctly defined by Nuala Ní Dhomhaill: ‘It is Gaeilge [Irish language] as she is spoken in Béal Feirste [Belfast], including intrusions from English – the dreaded Béarlachas sometimes to the point of pidgin and leavened at all times with a fair smattering of Jailtacht argot. All in all, it is sensational proof, if proof were needed, that Irish is alive and kicking and living in Belfast’.100 In the same

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 79

04/04/2012 16:17

80 Jailtacht

way Maguire’s 1991 description of the Irish language of Belfast as ‘our own language’ points to a sense of ownership which is political (Irish nationalist and republican), geographical (northern and urban) and linguistic (non-standard, yet authentic) all at once.101 This is Jailic style. Conclusions We can say that we know for certain that the Irish language that evolved in the Jailtacht is a linguistic phenomenon with a definite identity when we hear the political opponents of Irish republicanism offering their own definition: A few years ago, I had the pleasure of attending the annual conference of the INTO [Irish National Teachers’ Organisation], which was held in Newry. During that event, which, in those days would not normally have been attended by unionist politicians, I had the good fortune to sit beside the president of the union. He spoke fluent Irish in a most melodic and pleasant manner. However, for me, he highlighted the difference between the melodic intonation of the Gaeltacht and that harsh, staccato Jailtacht variant that has been instilled into certain parts of the province. A former employee of this estate, who was also a native Irish-speaker from the Republic, told me how he listened to the attempts of Members of a previous Assembly to speak to him in Irish. Their pronunciation and structure were wrong, and their words were not those that a fluent speaker would naturally use.102

I too recognise the ‘harsh’ and ‘stacatto’ prosody, the peculiar pronunciations, the English language influenced syntax and the neologisms but I part company with the Honourable Member in his use of such variation to condemn the Irish of the community, a community he has in mind to condemn anyway. Some language experts seek to condemn on other grounds. In his study of Irish republican prison writing, Whalen draws our attention to the imperfections in the Irish language texts of Bobby Sands.103 Séanna Walsh, in his review of the book, argues that he misses the point: He concentrates on Bobby’s song D’éirigh mé ar maidin (sung to the tune of Siubhán Ní Dhuibhir) and over-analyses the various endings Bobby put to it and how lines and verses changed. He does not take account of the fact that there was no Bunting-like reference book to go back to – no great tome for referencing. That so much of it was retained at all in any form is a miracle. Anyway, Bobby would change verses and endings in his poems, his songs and his epic stories from one day to the next or one evening to the next. It would depend on his mood as well as his memory.104

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 80

04/04/2012 16:17

style 81

Of course, Whalen is correct in his grammatical critique, but Séanna Walsh is closer to the mark in his sympathy for the development of the Irish of the prisoners in their peculiar social, physical and physiological context. The point is that their Irish ultimately became defined by its own set of variations, its own distinctive patterning and this arose directly from the idiosyncrasies born of a linguistic response to a highly politicised form of incarceration. The point is that here we are witness to the emergence of a new and influential style in Irish – Jailic style.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 81

04/04/2012 16:17

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 82

04/04/2012 16:17

4 Performance It is conceivable that one may survive the song of the Sirens; none can endure their silence.1 Attendees at a raucous event organized by Irish advocates of immigration reform in Washington DC yesterday were treated to the unusual sight of Senator Charles Schumer leading a chant closely identified with the Irish Republican Army. ‘Tiocfaidh Ar La!’ Mr Schumer bellowed several times from the stage at the Washington Court Hotel, his right hand ‘conducting’ the crowd to join in. The Gaelic slogan (pronounced ‘Chucky Are Law’) translates as ‘Our Day Will Come’. Often seen adorning gable walls in nationalist areas of Belfast during the darkest days of Northern Ireland’s Troubles, it became so associated with the IRA that it entered popular slang – a ‘Chuck’ or ‘Chucky’ was a person known to support the guerrilla group’s armed struggle.2

Introduction It has often been argued that the Irish language is used by Irish republicans in a symbolic manner, that it is a representative shorthand for a set of ideological values.3 However, this is only a part of the story, and it is not the most important part. In the prison cells of the Cages and the H-Blocks, the peculiar variation of the Irish language developed by the Irish republican prisoners came to be imbued with the quality of performativity. By this I mean that their Irish was both symbolic and constitutive of action. Understanding words as actions is not new, of course. The notion has been most coherently articulated by Austin4 who ‘[…] introduced the performative as a new category of utterance that has no truth value since it does not describe the world, but acts upon it – a way of ‘doing things with words’. […] it is by the utterance of words that the act is performed’.5 Importantly for this study, this quality of performativity is, today, in many circumstances, a dominant feature of the linguistic practices of speakers of Jailic style. How, and why, is this so? I answer these questions by examining how the language is used by prisoners and ex-prisoners to manage the social and physical architecture of incarceration, thereby constructing their own sense of place; to construct social identities or characters that are peculiar

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 83

04/04/2012 16:17

84 Jailtacht

to the Irish republican prison experience; and, to construct a sense of place outside of the prison. Finally, I show how the enforced absence of the language – including how that resulted from government censorship – caused the act of silence to become a linguistic performance. Understood pragmatically, I also argue that these silences had both aesthetic and ascetic implications for the prisoners. In short, therefore, I put the case here that it is the performative, and not the symbolic, which made the Irish language so seductive to the prisoners and explains why it continues to be so for Irish republicans generally. By equal measure, the task of precisely explaining how and why the Irish language is so very unsettling to the unionist opponents of Irish republicanism is clear when it is accepted that for some audiences any expression in Jailic style is taken as a performative utterance. Stages It is widely recognised by linguistics that space is crucial to understanding certain language behaviours. As Keating, for example, remarks: ‘communicative interaction takes place in particular places, and language practices are partly defined by the spatial boundaries within which they occur’.6 Such spaces are even more important again when we consider performative utterances in particular. We know that the distinctive elements of stage, witness and circumstance together ‘create the setting for the performative utterance to hold meaning’.7 For example, wedding vows and the making of ‘man and wife’ by the ordaining minister draw their meaning, in part, from their articulation in a church, or any other such setting designed on that day for the purposes of the conduct of the wedding. Making similar such pronouncements in the bathroom, for example, would not suffice. Similarly, these elements apply to this study of Jailic style. In this case the architecture of incarceration provides the stage. But the precise coincidence of stage, witness and circumstance did not occur until the construction of the H-Blocks, beginning in 1976. The H-Blocks are critical to the emergence of performativity for a number of reasons. As Foucault8 reminds us, space may easily be worked so as to serve a powerful role in social disciplining. The cellular design of the H-Block (Figures 1 and 2), in total contrast to the communal dormitory-style accommodation of the Cages, is clearly for the purposes of the imposition of a new discipline upon the prisoners – ‘disciplinary space is always basically cellular’.9 In addition, the ‘cellular power’10 of the H-Blocks, as Purbick for example shows us,11 was aimed at not only changing the prisoners – forcing them to conform – but also at eroding the supportive attitude towards the prisoners of sections of society beyond the prison. Thus, the H-Block cell was designed to be a corrective space for both the prisoner and his political community. In this sense the H-Blocks are a very peculiar extension of the Irish prison system

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 84

04/04/2012 16:17

Performance 85

as a function of colonial discipline.12 Rather than being overwhelmed by this cellular power, the prisoners made it their stage and used it to imbue their peculiar form of the Irish language with the force of performativity. This stage had several dimensions – the first of which was the individual cell itself. During the course of the prison protests, the prisoners would sometimes write their Irish language lessons on the cell walls. When the ‘dirty protest’, or ‘no wash protest’, began in 1978, whereby the prisoners would cover their cell walls in their own excrement, even then they would ensure that a space was kept clean for their Irish language material. I continued on my journey to nowhere as I circled the cell floor like a guinea pig, stopping here and there for a moment or two to identify the scratched names on the door and walls; simple testimony and reminder that others had been and still were in my position. A certain quality of pride seemed to attach itself to the scrawled names of the tortured writers. They were entitled to be proud, I thought, as I moved off to read the scribbled Gaelic phrases and words, noting the progress of the other wings in the Gaelic classes. ‘Gaelic classes,’ I said it again. I sounded rather odd. But then it was odd, considering that it meant standing at the cell door listening to your mate, the teacher, shouting the lesson for the day at the top of his voice from the other end of the wing when the screws happened to be away for their dinner or tea.13

This linguistic cellular space would be maintained despite the best efforts of the prison officers who ‘would steam clean the walls and spray over the wall, with white paint covering the Irish and all the political slogans scratched in’.14 The prisoners baptised the constituent parts of their cells in Irish. The details of the nature of the process which led towards such acts of baptism can be gleaned from the words of an IRA prisoner interviewed by Feldman: We were spending hours on it just writing on the walls. The men were using nothing but a piece of metal or a piece of lead to scrape on the wall. There were no textbooks; everything was just shouted out of the door. You always left a patch away from the shite on the wall for Gaelic. If you look at a cell, the pipes run along the back wall and your mattress was on the floor. Up along the walls you had two feet off the ground that was left blank for writing. Everything else but that was covered with shite. You would get shifted into a new cell, and there was this massive amount of Gaelic on the wall. You got a whole new vocabulary that you didn’t have before. You were expanding your Gaelic every time you were moved. And you would add your Gaelic on the wall for the next guy who was getting

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 85

04/04/2012 16:17

86 Jailtacht all that combined. There was sceal [sic] and whole stories written on the wall in Gaelic. Some cells were like a big book. You had nothing to read, no books or newspapers, no TV, you had all that time to sit at that wall trying to figure the Gaelic out. […] The cell door was no longer a door but a doiris [sic]. It was no longer a window but it was automatically a fuinneorg [sic].15

They similarly baptised other parts of the prison. For example, the alternative names of the prison are given their ‘proper’ Irish name by Gerry Adams: ‘The water seeps in everywhere [when tunnelling] because Long Kesh is built on a bog. The name itself comes from Ceis Fhada which translates from Gaelic as “the long ditch” or “basket”. Even the new Brit term, the Maze, comes from the Irish An Má – the plain. Methinks it should have been called An tUisce – the water’.16 After the morale-sapping end of the 1981 hunger strike the presence of the language on the cell walls struck a more sombre, even nostalgic note. For example, in his autobiography, former IRA prisoner Richard O’Rawe reflects upon encountering ‘fuiseóg’, the Irish word for the lark and the iconic bird of Bobby Sands, on his cell wall: ‘I turned towards the wall. The names of birds in Irish were written on the wall; strikingly, there was Bobby’s favourite bird, the lark, or fuiseóg. There were always reminders; there was no escape’.17 Many would agree with Rymes that the baptismal event ‘fixes the referent of a name, it also reflects certain beliefs and values’.18 However, it is possible to go much further than this. The transformation of the membrane of the cell as an Irish language text is a thoroughly subversive act. After all, it is in this precise manner that the ‘extreme discipline’ of incarceration is usually made manifest most directly to the isolated prisoner: [T]he principal means of punishment inflicted was confinement to one’s cell; for ‘isolation is the best means of acting on the moral nature of children; it is there above all that the voice of religion, even if it has never spoken to their hearts, recovers all its emotional power’ […]; the entire parapenal institution, which is created in order not to be a prison, culminates in the cell, on the walls of which are written in black letters, ‘God sees you’.19

No longer is the prisoner subject to the corrective architecture of the cell but instead the cell becomes a means of communicating an alternative meaning. However, Feldman, and perhaps the prisoner as well, got his Irish wrong – for ‘sceal’, ‘doiris’ and ‘fuinneorg’, read ‘scéal’, ‘doras’ and ‘fuinneog’. This in itself does not undermine his suggestion that this renaming is an effort by the prisoners to assert control over their situation by excluding the prison officers as they could not understand Irish. He draws our attention to the remark by

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 86

04/04/2012 16:17

Performance 87

one of his interviewees that ‘Nothing had its right name in the Blocks’,20 until renamed by the prisoners of course. But where I disagree with Feldman is in his assertion that the significance of the introduction of the Irish language to the H-Blocks is in its divisiveness, its exclusion of the prison officers as a result of it being a ‘secret’ language: ‘The H-Blocks became a site of intensive culturebuilding by the prisoners. Within the enclosure of the prison, further partitions were mapped out […] The prison became a bifurcated space’.21 In this regard, Feldman too closely reflects the claims of the prisoners themselves. For example, two former prisoners (McKeown and Campbell) make the case with regard to the isolating impact of the use of Irish on the prison officers: Use of Irish forced isolation on prisoner officers – We had to do something to occupy our minds. So in every wing the ranganna Gaeilge were organised. Men who had acquired the language, either in the Cages or in school, took the classes. Since we had no writing materials, we had to write the ranganna on the cell walls. We would keep a patch of the wall clean to write on and, using a broken piece of a liberated toothpaste tube, we would scratch the Gaeilge on the walls. Within a year [during 1978] Irish became the first language within the Blocks. All the news and business was given out the doors in Gaeilge; it was not only a means of communication but became a weapon in our hands to use against the screws. They hadn’t a clue what we were saying and this really got to them. It helped to isolate them.22 In the Blocks the Irish language became the ‘coded system’ of the prisoners … Use of the Irish language played a major role in our communication system. Verbal messages could be passed from wing to wing and Block to Block without the authorities knowing what was being said. We heard of attempts by the screws to learn Irish but they never came to anything. They captured bits of Irish at times written out on toilet roll when they searched the cells and took them away with them and tried to learn it but it never came to anything as they could never match sounds to the words … Learning and speaking the Irish language for those imprisoned in the H-Blocks therefore had significance for a number of reasons, some practical and some political. It was a means through which to communicate to comrades; to exclude enemies; to relieve boredom and stimulate the mind; and ultimately, through which to express identity. It was therefore a political and subversive pursuit.23

I agree with Feldman that the act of renaming and the use of Irish on the cell walls is an act of appropriation through which the cell becomes implicated in the meaning of incarceration. But the prison officers are absolutely central to the textualisation of the cell actually holding meaning. As Di Giulio reminds

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 87

04/04/2012 16:17

88 Jailtacht

us, ‘performance relies on the witnessing by an audience and therein exists a mutual complicity of responsibilty’.24 Thus, the prison officers, along with the prisoners they move from cell to cell, are the principal witnesses to the performative utterances made by their wards. The straitened nature of the stage, in this case the cell, requires that they be witnesses. They have no choice; it is their job to be there, literally and, equally, the prisoners require their presence. Performative utterances need witnesses and, therefore, the performance of Jailic style would have meant nothing had they been absent. While the physical membrane of the individual cell was very important to the prisoners, both for protest and language, it was an inadequate space for expressing, one could say asserting, their sense of identity as a radical political community. Their social space, fragmented by cellular isolation, had to be made whole in some sense. The Irish language provided that coherence through the reinvention of the term ‘Gaeltacht’ to describe themselves and the place they occupied – their stage: ‘Gaeltacht, f. (gs. ~a, pl. ~aí). 1. Lit: Irishry; Irish (-speaking) people. 2. Irish-speaking area’.25 The portmanteau word ‘Jailtacht’ was devised by the prisoners so as to conjure a peculiar image of language and place. The naming of places has a mythological resonance in the Irish language literary tradition. The craft of ‘dinnseanchas’,26 meaning the lore of prominent places27 was a prestigious professional and learned area of scholarly activity in pre-modern Ireland. This toponymic lore was extremely important in a para-legalistic sense at that time as it was used to explain and authenticate a people’s belonging to the land, to the exclusion of others. It can be argued that a contemporary version of dinnseanchas finds its expression in the work of many northern Irish poets, for whom ‘a place was not simply a place; it was a story, a history, a creative act, an ordering of time’.28 The naming of the Jailtacht can also be read in this way. The etymology of the term ‘Jailtacht’ is crucial to properly understanding it. Its earliest recorded appearance is in the middle part of the 1980s. Any references to the existence of the Jailtacht, or ‘Jailtacht huts’,29 prior to this period are entirely retrospective and, therefore, anachronistic. I have located a single reference in one Irish republican source30 to the creation of a ‘Gaeltacht’ in 1973, along with the photograph of a hut marked ‘Gaelic’ (Plate 2) and annotated as ‘The Gaelic hut’. The first Irish republican source in which the term Jailtacht is used is an article written by Seosamh Cnamh, published in An Phoblacht in 1985 (25 July), although the word is misspelled as ‘Jailteacht’ and it only appears in the title to the piece. The evidence suggests that the term post-dates the 1981 hunger strike and that its coinage coincides with the period of strategic engagement. What is the significance of this? The text by Cnamh outlines how at that time the language was, to Irish republican prisoners, at the forefront of a struggle against ‘cultural oppression in English

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 88

04/04/2012 16:17

Performance 89

prisons in Ireland’.31 In the main body of the text he lays claim to the fact that ‘At the time of the hunger strikes the H-Blocks of Long Kesh were a virtual Gaeltacht!’.32 The implication is clear, the Jailtacht is related to but also distinct from the Gaeltacht. It would appear to be the case that very shortly after the term Jailtacht was coined by Irish republicans it became fixed in the popular imagination more generally. Jailtacht even merits explanation on the pages of English Today!33 Significantly, the term appears on several occasions in the Irish language section of the broadsheet newspaper The Irish Times during 1986 and 1987, with the final such reference appearing in The Irish Times in 1989.34 The first reference (25 June) is to a talk on the Irish language in the Jailtacht (‘fán Ghaeilge sa “Jailtacht”’) at a conference organised by Sinn Féin for the autumn of that year. The second reference (12 November) is entitled ‘Gaeilge sa “Jailtacht”’ and describes a motion put forward in at a meeting of Derry City Council by Sinn Féin councillor Gearóid Ó Dochartaigh whereby the Council recognised several hundred Irish republican prisoners as Irish-speakers and insisted that they ought to have rights with regard to the use of that language in various domains, including during visits. In a short piece published on 10 December 1986 De Bréadún informs his readers that he received a letter from the Jailtacht, penned by Eoghan Mac Cormaic in H-1. In the letter Mac Cormaic complains that the prisoners are experiencing difficulties in obtaining Irish language reading material. Also, he notes that they make use of ‘Tuarascáil’, the Irish language section of The Irish Times, in their Irish language classes. In addition, he provides the Irish language words to a revolutionary song about Cuba in response to a request by a reader of the column. Then, on 18 February 1987, De Bréadún returns to the matter of the Irish language motion passed by Derry City Council in an article entitled ‘Gaeilge sa Jailtacht’. Here he notes that similar such motions were subsequently passed by Newry and Mourne Council and Strabane Council, calling for ‘chothrom na féinne do Ghaeil sna priosúin’ (fair play for Gaels in the prison). The particulars of these motions included a demand that the Northern Ireland Office allow prisoners the following rights with regard to the Irish language: to wear the Fáinne; to write and to receive letters in Irish; and to receive Irish language books, newspapers and magazines. The last letter in this series between 1986 and 1989, published on 5 July, reports the conclusion of a court case brought by two prisoners, Eoghan Mac Cormaic and John Pickering, the previous week. Judge Petrie, hearing the case, upheld Northern Ireland Office (NIO) policy in the prison banning the use of Irish during visits, the writing and receiving of letters in Irish, the use of Irish first names and surnames, the wearing of the Fáinne and the playing of Gaelic games. In their defence the NIO argued that there was no prohibition

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 89

04/04/2012 16:17

90 Jailtacht

on the language ‘seachas cinn a bhfuil gá praicticiúil nó slándála leo’ (other than it was necessary for reasons of practicality or security). Sinn Féin drew some political benefit from the case, arguing that it illustrated how the British government in Northern Ireland was oppressing Irish culture and identity. In this way the idea of the Jailtacht was a successful propaganda device for the Irish republican movement generally. The closing section of the story in The Irish Times, entitled ‘Cosc ar an Ghaeilge sna príosúin go fóill’ (Ban on Irish in prison remains) defines the nature of the Jailtacht as a politicised linguistic platform, a radical stage where language means action: Tá úsáid na Gaeilge an-fhorleathan i measc na bpríosúnach náisiúnach sa Cheis Fhada, agus is minic a cuirtear an Jailtacht air ó thuiadh. Nuair a d’éalaigh 38 príosúnach i 1983, mar a léiríodh sa leabhar Out of the Maze le Derek Dunne a foilsíodh anuraidh faoin eachtra, ba i nGaeilge a labhair na príosúnaigh agus iad ina bhun, fiú agus bairdéirí in aice leo. Ar an chúis seo tuigtear, go príobháideach, i measc náisiúnaithe ó thuaidh go bhfuil fáth leis an chosc ar an Ghaeilge. Cuirtear bairdéirí, agus baill den RUC, ar chúrsaí Gaeilge ó am go chéile. Tuigtear go bhfuil bardairí le líofacht Ghaeilge ag obair sa Cheis Fhada cheana féin.35 (Use of the Irish language is widespread amongst nationalist prisoners in Long Kesh and it is often called the Jailtacht in the north. When thirty-eight prisoners escaped in 1983, as is explained in the book Out of the Maze by Derek Dunne published last year about the adventure, the prisoners spoke in Irish as they planned even though they were right under the noses of the prisoner wardens. Because of this it is understood, privately, amongst nationalists in the north that this is why Irish is banned. Occasionally, prison wardens and members of the RUC are sent on Irish courses. It is understood that prison wardens fluent in Irish are already working in Long Kesh.)

In the middle of the 1990s the name for the Irish language space in the prison underwent some further evolution. An unpublished Irish republican prisoners’ internal discussion paper offers some insight into this transition.36 This English language document was certainly written after May 1995 and it seems to have been used by Laurence McKeown in the preparation of an article entitled ‘Jailtacht/Gaeltacht’ that was published in Cascando in 1996. Indeed, the top of the front page of the document is adorned with a handwritten note and addressed to ‘Lorcán’. This is an Irish language version of the name ‘Laurence’. In footnote to his article in Cascando McKeown defines both ‘Gaeltacht’ and Jailtacht: ‘Irish language-speaking areas are known as Gaeltachts. There are several of these, notably in Donegal, the Connaught region and parts of Kerry.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 90

04/04/2012 16:17

Performance 91

Those learning the language in other parts of the country often go there for periods of intensive schooling. Because of the amount of Irish spoken in the prison, the term jailtacht was coined’.37 The duality of the title of McKeown’s article indicates the sense of transition and ambiguity. But the 1995 discussion paper is more specific and nuanced than McKeown. The terms ‘Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige’ and ‘Jailtacht’ are both used in that paper. In it the purpose of ‘setting up Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige’38 is discussed and, in the course of its entire eleven pages, ‘the Jailtacht’ is referred to on fourteen occasions. In this text ‘Gaeltacht’ and ‘Jailtacht’ are not interchangeable. Instead, ‘Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige’ is quite clearly intended to be the name of the Jailtacht. The reasons for the choice of the actual name itself are very transparent – Bobby Sands wrote under the name ‘the lark’, in Irish ‘an fhuiseoig’, hence ‘Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige’. But the meaning of the act of renaming is illuminated by the assertion in the paper that ‘We don’t want to speak some jail dialect of Irish.’39 The author mentions the historical existence of a ‘Gaeltacht hut’ in the cages, a ‘Gaeltacht landing’ in the prison of Port Laoise in the Republic of Ireland, and of ‘mion-Jailtachtaí’ (minor, or subJailtachts)40 in Long Kesh ‘in recent years.’41 None of these sorts of spaces would suffice for the purpose now in mind. The creation of a Jailtacht, to be known as Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige, would be ‘the proper environment’42 for the development of a community of Irish-speakers amongst the prisoners. Moving beyond ‘some jail dialect’ required a rebaptism and with some rapidity, the term ‘Jailtacht’ itself was eschewed by Irish republican prisoners. By the time Mac Aoidh (1996)43 and McAllister (1997)44 are writing, ‘Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige’ is used exclusively. This suggests that, for the prisoners at least, the performative function of Jailic style had changed. By now the associated terms ‘Jailtacht’ and ‘Jailic’ had come to mean many things, very different to their original uses. These changes have little to do with performativity and everything to do with ideology. But I shall deal with that at a later point. For now, let us turn to some important Jailtacht characters. Characters The contrasting architecture of the Cages and the H-Blocks caused a fundamental reworking of the relationship between the individual prisoner and the community of Irish republican prisoners. Some have noted how the sense of community amongst the prisoners was very immediate in the Cages.45 The cellular isolation of the H-Blocks can easily account for this retrospective and indirect view. Yet, a careful reading of the prisoners’ own accounts of social life in the two spaces suggest that the notion of communal belonging and identity was, peculiarly, stronger in the H-Blocks, despite the extreme isolation and individuation forced upon the prisoners by the architecture of the H-Blocks.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 91

04/04/2012 16:17

92 Jailtacht

For example, McKeown describes the dominance of local, geographically defined ‘cliques’ in the Cages: Prisoners who had special category status were allowed to receive from outside one food parcel each week. These included meat, bread, sweets, fruit, cakes, biscuits, cigarettes and toiletries. Prisoners formed co-operatives, or ‘cliques’ as they were known, to share these scant resources out. Cliques structured the arrival of the food parcels over the course of the entire week, if possible, rather than have them all arriving on the one day. Depending on how successful this was, the jail food would rarely be eaten. The cliques on average consisted of 5–6 people but occasionally they could be as large as 20 and were usually made up of people from the same area; Ballymurphy, the Short Strand, the Bogside, South Derry, East Tyrone and so forth.46

The prisoners abandoned these in the H-Blocks and developed ‘communes’ instead, despite the fact that they were largely confined to their cells, either in solitary confinement or in pairs, for almost twenty-four hours a day: In the H Blocks in the 1980s republican prisoners were not entitled to food parcels but they began to put in place a communal lifestyle, sharing the scant resources they had available to them and building on the culture of sharing that had developed during the blanket protest. But it was not based on small co-operatives. The prisoners established wing communes which had up to 45 men in them. All resources entering the wing were collectivised and then shared out. This system was not achieved overnight and many fears and individualistic attitudes had first to be broken down, but gradually the ‘wing commune’ became a common feature and through it the prisoners were able to not only share goods but to become selfsufficient to some degree in other regards.47

These differences in social life are manifest in the way in which the prisoners characterise the identities of some individuals and certain social roles throughout this period. In the Cages the prisoners construct the social identity of many individuals. Thus, a range of argot characters, from amongst the prison warders and the prisoners alike, can be found in the autobiographical and biographical writings of all of the prisoners. Very many of these identities are formulated in the Irish language. The use of Irish in this context demonstrates the extent to which the language in general was an important tool for coping with incarceration. In this particular context the language allows the prisoners to adopt or to impose an alternative social identity. Irish, rather than English,

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 92

04/04/2012 16:17

Performance 93

better reinforces the sensation of alterity. These multiple acts of renaming have the effect of creating a cast, a set of actors in the drama of an Irish republican prison camp. This theatrical guesture implies a level of unreality, and artifice; as Hoëm reminds us, ‘theatre serves to remind us of the arbitrary quality of all human institutions, including our conceptions of language and performance’.48 Incarceration is merely temporary, a stage to play upon for a while. That one of the prisoners’ most common battle-cry was ‘Ní bheidh sé i bhfad anois’ (It won’t be long now)49 merely underlines this. Significantly, this particular slogan, while very popular amongst the prisoners, never entered popular parlance. Clearly, it carried very little meaning outside of the prison cell. Gerry Adams50 is especially effective in communicating the personae of several such argot characters. For example, ‘An Madra Rua’ (the Fox) appears throughout the text. As the name implies, ‘An Madra Rua’ is a wily and charismatic operator. A whole chapter is devoted to another of these characters, known as ‘Cratur’. He is depicted – often with some humour – as fairly eccentric and somewhat innocent. For example: He was from somewhere near the Border, and he got his name from his habit of addressing everyone as ‘cratur’. He rarely volunteered conversation but, on request, would say, ‘Sin, sin a chréatúir’ (That’s that, creatur), or perhaps, ‘Okay, cratur.’ He was a man of amicable disposition but, because of his aloofness, Cratur didn’t make many firm friends … And yet everyone liked Cratur. He was the exception, and his notoriety was secretly welcomed by his comrades.51

Other similar argot characters appear in the work of Brian Campbell et al.52 including several prison officers, for example ‘the Píoba’ (the Pipe), ‘the Francach’ (the Rat) and ‘the Albanach’ (the Scot). Peadar Whelan identifies other warders as ‘Fear Dona’ (the bad man) and ‘Páiste Suirí’ (bastard).53 As the prison protests developed, some visitors developed argot personae. Cardinal Tomás Ó Fiaich was a frequent and very important visitor, as this extract from an interview with Séanna Walsh shows: We used Cardinal Ó Fiaich and Fr Faul to explain some phrases and pronounce some of the things we didn’t understand or know how to say. We used stuff from Ireland’s Own, there was an Irish language cartoon in it. Irish material would be smuggled between the blocks. Block 5 was very Irish. If we knew somebody was on their way to Block 4 we’d give them the stuff to take over. It wasn’t as good if you were on Block 4. There weren’t many good Irish-speakers there then so you had to learn from just text, just reading text. You wouldn’t know how to say it. (Séanna Walsh interview with the author 2007)

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 93

04/04/2012 16:17

94 Jailtacht

The prisoners baptised him ‘Sagart Mór’, meaning ‘the Great Priest’, and this moniker was invariably used in communications amongst Irish republicans when referring to Fr Ó Fiaich, such as in a secret message from Marcella (Bobby Sands) to Liam Og (Bik McFarlane) dated 16 March 198154 and a similar text from Bik (McFarlane) to Brownie (Gerry Adams) dated 4 October 1981.55 Some minor variations appear in Beresford, for example ‘Sagairt Mor’ and ‘Sagart Mor’. The prisoners may very well be the authors of these variations but, equally, so might Beresford. It is quite well known that Gerry Adams adopted ‘Brownie’ as a nom de plume but he too had an Irish language argot identity imposed upon him, namely ‘Comrade Mór’ (the Great Comrade).56 Under the extreme conditions of the H-Block protests a more significant phenomenon evolved from this Irish language argot function – namely, generic social identities. Several of these roles merit our attention. The role of ‘Scairteoir/Scorcher/Shouter’ was first identified in print by anyone other than an Irish republican prisoner by Beresford, a journalist for the English newspaper The Guardian at that time: Communications between the wings of the H-Blocks were by shouting; designated prisoners boasting particularly strong voices and knowledge of Gaelic acted as ‘scorcher’ (shouter), bellowing messages late in the evening – when most of the warders had knocked off for the day. More sensitive messages were relayed between blocks by being recycled through visits.57

Beresford offers no explanation for the origins of the term, although he clearly understands the function of the ‘scorcher’. Feldman came across the ‘scorcher’ during the course of his anthropological fieldwork a few years after that and provides a clue as to the linguistic genealogy of the term: The centrality of the disembodied voice is evident in the prison slang ‘on the air’ and ‘off the air’. To be ‘on the air’ was to be a subject in communication, to break the limitations of cellular isolation. A related anglified Gaelic term was ‘scorcher’, the inmate who shouted messages between wings at night. To be ‘off the air’, meant much more than to be silent. It was equated with the special silence of the social death of incarceration and with physical death.58

The ‘Gaelic term’ is, almost certainly, ‘scairteoir, m. (gs. –ora, pl. ~í). Shouter, caller.59 The role of ‘Seanchaí/Seanachie/Singer/Story-teller’ is noted by Feldman in association with Bobby Sands:

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 94

04/04/2012 16:17

Performance 95 they moved the commanders back into the wings when they saw that segregation was having no effects on us. Bobby Sands, Bik McFarlane, and a few others came onto our wing and things began to pick up … Before he came onto the wing the morale of the wing was very low. We had taken a fair bit of hassle from the warders. Sands and McFarlane immediately organised Gaelic lessons, singsongs, story tellings, and lectures through the doors. Bobby Sands was the man who gave the Irish lessons, sung songs, told stories. He was like an old-time seanachie [sic] [storyteller]. When he told a story from the old Gaelic times it was very vivid. You could picture it in your mind’s eye.60

While Feldman’s spelling is faulty the term obviously is that of ‘seanchaí, m. (gs. ~, pl. ~aithe). 1. Lit. Custodian of tradition, historian. 2. Reciter of ancient lore; traditional story-teller’.61 But, as is abundantly clear from Bobby Sands’s own writings, many other prisoners also played this role of storytelling, songmaking and poetry writing: The singer finished the last song of the night, and everyone gave him a grand round of applause. A bit of chatter followed and someone on the other side was getting a message shouted over in Gaelic from the other wing, which was passed on to the OC.62 Today in the dungeons of H Block the language of the blanketmen is the rightful language of the nation – Gaeilge – it is spoken with love and vigour. It is roughly scratched upon filthy walls in poetry and sung with pride. The silver speech that our fathers knew has been revived in prison dungeon – the future of the liberation struggle and the road to the Socialist Republic is eagerly thrashed out in political discussion and debate.63

This role is ironic in some sense, given Bobby Sands’s folk-tale-style creation of the lark that refused to sing while imprisoned in its cage.64 Another playfully ironic gesture is the imposition of a generic Irish language term upon the prison officers, apparently at their own request! The term ‘Faoileán/Faolean/ Seagull’ is mentioned in passing by Feldman, and once again the spelling is quite peculiar: ‘There were screws coming down asking people for the Gaelic word for screw. We gave them the word faolean [sic], which meant seagull. And the screws would be running around calling each other seagulls. It was ludicrous; they were very naïve from that respect’.65 The correct term, of course, is ‘faoileán, m. (gs. & npl. –áin, gpl. ~). Seagull […] (Var. faoile f, faoileadán, faoileagán, faoileannán, faoileog f)’.66 Perhaps the most important of all of these roles is that of ‘Múinteoir/ Teacher’. It is only in the words and writings of the prisoners themselves that

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 95

04/04/2012 16:17

96 Jailtacht

the centrality of this particular role is obvious. Irish language classes were central to the lives of most of the Irish republican prisoners and the teacher was integral to that. That much is readily apparent in this extract from the writings of Bobby Sands, for example: I went back to my pacing once again as one of the boys shouted Rang anois, summoning the lads to their doors for an Irish language class. The teacher was at the far end of the wing. He began to shout out the lessons at the top of his voice from behind his heavy steel door, asking questions, spelling out words and phrases, while the willing pupils scratched and scribbled them upon the dirty, mutilated walls. It was a rough and rugged way of teaching but it worked, and everyone endeavoured to speak what they learned all the time until the words and phrases became so common that they were used instinctively. The Irish class continued in the background as I returned to my thoughts.67

Unlike the traditional teacher-pupil relationship, the teacher was not in a position of disciplinary authority. Rather, any ‘pupil’ could easily aspire to be a teacher, and indeed was expected to become so quite rapidly, as Laurence McKeown describes below: The teaching of the Irish language is one example of how prisoners developed an informal system of education during the years of the blanket protest in which the ‘pupil’ became the ‘teacher’ once he had arrived at a particular level of competence. No one had to be fully qualified according to some previously set criterion; all that was required was that those more advanced than others passed on what they knew and attempted to raise others up to their standard whilst simultaneously trying to acquire a higher standard themselves. The same applied to other knowledge that people acquired, be it about economics, socialism or history but it was in the teaching of the Irish language that the principle was most apparent.68

This is something that I confirmed during the course of my ethnographic field research, as this ex-prisoner illustrates in his own words: ‘Those prisoners with a bit more Irish would teach the others with less Irish. It wasn’t a hierarchical thing’ (Pat Sheehan interview with the author 2009). While the sense of hierarchy was quite loose, the relationship was potentially very intimate. Colm Scullion makes this much clear during his interview in the Irish republican magazine An Phoblacht: ‘The key to the door,’ is how Colm Scullion describes the acquisition of the Irish language as a fundamental prerequisite in the

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 96

04/04/2012 16:17

Performance 97 exploration of his cultural heritage. Colm was lying naked in a H Block cell when he learned his first few words of Irish vocabulary. When Colm had been captured with Thomas McElwee in 1976, he was barely 17 years of age. […] The Irish language, both in its teaching and learning, played a key role in maintaining unity and morale. ‘It was a way of keeping hold of your sanity,’ says Colm. ‘We were locked in a cell with nothing to occupy us.’ Colm remembers listening to a lecture, delivered from behind his cell door, by Tommy McKearney on the importance of the Irish language. ‘Most of my Irish was taught to me by Bobby Sands,’ says Colm. A copy of the Bible was the only written material allowed in each cell. ‘Bobby and Jake Jackson would shout out the reference to a passage in the Bible and we’d try to translate it into Irish,’ says Colm. When Colm and Bobby shared a cell, ‘we made it a rule to speak Irish all day.’ Only after 11pm each night did they allow themselves to lapse back into speaking English.69

The ‘múinteoir’ is one of the few such roles that remained significant for the prisoners in their lives beyond the prison. After their release, many exprisoners became the organisers and teachers of community-based Irish language classes, a role many still fulfil today (e.g. Pilib Ó Rúnaí interview with the author 2007). During the 1980s many Irish republican activists saw little difference between linguistic and military action. Kevin McCraken is an excellent example of this. He was released from Long Kesh in 1985 and, according to one Irish republican source,70 he re-engaged in active service with the IRA in the Turf Lodge area of Belfast while at the same time he began work there as an Irish language ‘múinteoir’. It was there that he was shot dead by a British soldier in 1988.71 Another excellent example of this is Sean Savage, who was killed by the SAS in Gibraltar in 1988,72 and who was very active in Irish language circles up until his death.73 While the level of political violence has diminished by now, many ex-prisoners still embody the role of ‘múinteoir’. In an interview published in 2006, Laurence McKeown is keen to assert that ‘Many former prisoners are today Irish language teachers and indeed, principals of Irish language schools, which is a testament to the role they have played upon release’.74 The importance of this role is reflected in an Irish republican mural dedicated to the memory of IRA Volunteer Sean McCaughey.75 The mural is framed by a number of very prominent Irish language phrases. These include the declaration that McCaughey was an Irish-speaker and a teacher – ‘Gaelgoir agus muinteior’ [sic]. It ought to more correctly read as ‘Gaeilgeoir agus múinteoir’ but the point is quite obvious. ‘Múinteoir’ is a role of value in the Irish republican movement, and it was first defined for the movement by those who played this role both in the Cages and, in a more vigorously political manner, in the H-Blocks.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 97

04/04/2012 16:17

98 Jailtacht

The development of Irish language versions of personal names was common practice during the period between 1976 and 1981. It is usual for Irish-speakers to have both English and Irish versions of their personal names. It is also common practice for members of the Irish parliament to have official stationery that carries both the English and Irish versions of their names. The appearance of this practice in the Cages and the H-Blocks can be read in that context. For linguistic anthropologists the meanings of proper names are inseparable from their social and historical context: ‘A proper name […] [is] a repository of accumulated meanings, practices, and beliefs, a powerful linguistic means of asserting identity (or defining someone else) and inhabiting a social world.’76 I prefer Searle’s articulation of Wittengenstein’s assertion that proper names are not absolutely fixed in their meaning but instead possess, or relate to, a certain family of meanings.77 Thus, the translation of the proper names of Bobby Sands into Roibeárd Ó Seachnasaigh and Roibeard Mac Sandair, of Jake Jackson into Gearóid Mac Siacais or Jake Mac Siacais or simply An Siacsach, of Sid Walsh into Séanna Breathnach or Breatnach, and of Tarlac Connolly into Tarlach or Tarlac or Turlough Ó Conghalaigh, conjures into existence a range of connections between language, identity, place and action.78 The choices of Irish names made by the prisoners could be made to appear to be quite eccentric. For example, the surnames Sands and Jackson are of English or Scottish origin.79 Contemporary practice in English-Irish translation attempts to be sensitive to the resulting peculiarities of a simplistic and literal translation of surnames: B’iontacht liom cé chomh mór is a cuireadh cuid de na hainmneacha as a riocht. Rinneadh ‘Stiofán Mac an Mhíle’ de Steve Staunton agus ‘Donncha Ó hEireamhóin’ de Dennis Irwin. Is fiú cuimhneamh air chomh maith nach i gcónaí a bhíonn sé soiléir cén leagan Gaeilge ba choir a chur ar shloinnte Béarla in Éirinn gan eolas a bheith agat ar áit dúchais nó ar shinsir an duine. An ‘Ruairí Mac Catháin’ nó ‘Ruairí Ó Céin’ a thabharfá ar Roy Keane? Ní thabhrfá ceachtar acu air dá mba mhian leat go dtuigfeadh daoine thú.80 (It surprises me the extent to which some of the names are misformed. Steve Staunton becomes ‘Stiofán Mac an Mhíle’ and Dennis Irwin becomes ‘Donncha Ó hEireamhóin’. It is worth remembering as well that it is not always clear which Irish version it would be best to use for an English surname in Ireland without any knowledge about the individual’s place of origin and ancestry. Is Roy Keane ‘Ruairí Mac Catháin’ or ‘Ruairí Ó Céin? Neither of the two ought to be used if you want someone to understand you.)

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 98

04/04/2012 16:17

Performance 99

But of course, context is everything. It would be perfectly acceptable to render the name of IRA volunteer and Irish-speaker Sean Savage as ‘Seán Mac an tSábhaisigh’ even though this has no meaning whatsoever in Irish. The name ‘Savage’ derives from the Old French ‘salvage’ or ‘sauvage’, meaning ‘savage’ or ‘wild’.81 Williams le Savage was one of the Anglo-Norman invaders of Ireland in 1177 and his descendants eventually become considerably integrated to the native Irish culture and language. By the close of the medieval period the family name is recorded as ‘Mac an tSábhaisigh’ in the Annals of the Four Masters, which were compiled between 1632 and 1636. Perhaps because of the notorious celebrity of his death at the hands of the SAS in Gibraltar in 1988 (it was the subject of an inquest in Gibraltar, a controversial television documentary Death on the Rock, and an investigation by the European Commission on Human Rights; and at the Belfast funerals of Savage and the two other members of the IRA killed alongside him in Gibraltar, three people were killed when loyalist paramilitary Michael Stone attacked the mourners with hand grenades and a semi-automatic pistol) the Irish version of his name is hardly ever used, even in Irish language publications.82 In cases where historical precedent of the name in Irish is less immediately obvious it is clear that the prisoners were both diligent and creative in their research. The surname ‘Jackson’ is translated as ‘Mac Siacais’. This can only mean ‘son of Jack’ if it is understood that ‘Siacas’ means ‘Jack’. This is indeed the case – in medieval Ireland. In this period the form ‘Siacas’, derived from the French name ‘Jacques’, was very common in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries.83 Similarly, the prisoners use the name ‘Séanna’ for ‘Sid’. This can be understood by working backwards whereby ‘Sidney’ became accepted in the modern period as the Anglicised version of the original Irish first name ‘Sétna’ or ‘Séadna’. The particular form ‘Séanna’ can only be fully appreciated when it is known that the correct pronunciation of ‘Sétna’ or ‘Séadna’ is /ʃ eː n̪ˠ a/.84 Thus, any eccentricities that the eye might behold are, to my own mind, more apparent than real. One impact of the appearance of Irish language personal names in the H-Blocks was to initiate their use by a new generation of Irish republicans as an act of radical politics in various situations. For example, Kevin Brady, according to Danny Morrison of Sinn Féin (2006), adopted the Irish form Caoimhin Mac Bradaigh because of that: ‘With the resurgence in the Irish language in the North in the 1980s, particularly boosted and influenced by prisoners coming out of the ‘jailtachts’, Kevin legally changed his name to Caoimhin Mac Bradaigh around 1987. He was one of the mourners killed at the funeral of the three IRA members killed in Gibraltar in 1988.'85 Likewise, Féilim Ó hAdhmaill (aka Fedlimidh Ó hAdhmaill) adopted the Irish language version of his name during the 1980s for precisely the same reason:

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 99

04/04/2012 16:17

100 Jailtacht Mhisnigh Bobby Sands mé agus é amuigh i gceantair s’againn (1976 agus mé 18) agus iar chime eile, Seán Mac Ainmhire a thóg a chuid páistí as Gaeilge sa cheantar (ó 1976 ar aghaidh). D’fhoghlaim mé mo chuid Gaeilge i ranganna comhrá san oíche, go háirithe i gCumann Cluain Ard i mBéal Feirste agus ó chairde de mo chuid – iar chimí den chuid is mó – a raibh Gaeilge acu.86 (Bobby Sands inspired me when he was out in our area (1976 and I was eighteen) and another ex-prisoner, Seán Mac Ainmhire who raised his children in Irish in the area (from 1976 onwards). I learned my Irish in evening classes, especially in Cumann Cluain Ard in Belfast and from my friends – mostly ex-prisoners – who had Irish).

Then, when imprisoned during the 1990s it was the cause of ongoing friction to the prison authorities that his visiting wife insisted on using the Irish language version of her name during visits: ‘“His wife once threatened to take the Prison Service to court if officers didn’t stop spelling her name in English in the visitors’ book,” stated the sources [‘a senior prison source’]’.87 The creation and use of an Irish language personal name could, therefore, be a site of confrontation. This was certainly a lesson that was quickly learned, and applied, beyond the prison. For example, young activist Brendan O Fiaich was according to Irish republican sources arrested for giving his name in Irish to ‘Crown forces’ (the British Army or the RUC) in 1985.88 In a literary echo of this, the Irish language poet Gearóid Mac Lochlainn recounts how he made his own contribution to ‘the struggle’ through insisting on spelling his name in Irish in response to the questioning of a British soldier who had stopped him on his way to school: Back on the ranch the quicklime craic flowed as I gave my Gaelic name. (Classic resistance technique. If I’d listened in Irish class I could have refused to speak bloody English. Next time. This was not the last.) – Ow’s it spelt then? (Him under pressure now.) – Here, there’s a fada on the O. – A futter? Eh?

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 100

04/04/2012 16:17

Performance 101 .

– Aye, a fada, it’s Irish. A wee stroke that goes up at an angle like that … (Game on! If I could get lifted I might even get a day off school.) I stared, lead-eyed, uppity as pen-nib spidered turkey-talk – Keep yer ’ands on the wall. on his dog-eared notepad. (Basic skills were fair game on this pitch.) -M-A-C-L-O-C-H as in H-Block – A-I-N-N Mac Lochlainn. Sin é, Mo Chara! I stared again, eyes full of high noon shot bottle-green shards and drew first blood on his cheek. But by now he was wise to me and seriously pissed off.89 The encounter went downhill for our radical poet after that. Only in the Irish language version of the poem (entitled ‘Teacht i Méadaíocht’), also penned by Mac Lochlainn, does the poet explain the meaning of what had happened in terms of identity: an chéad uair a mhothaigh mé snáthaid ghéar náire, faobhar fuar fuatha, céadtuiscint ar an fhocal – Éireannach.90 (the first time that I felt a sharp needle of shame, the cold edge of hatred the first understanding of the word – Irishman.) In contrast, Mac Lochlainn’s English language version of the poem concludes, much more ambiguously, that what passed between the poet and the soldier was ‘a first stab at translation’.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 101

04/04/2012 16:17

102 Jailtacht

Silences In the film Hunger, director Steve McQueen and scriptwriter Enda Walsh try to manipulate image, sound and silence to emphasise the cinematic impact of their subject: ‘He [i.e. Steve McQueen] said he initially contemplated having no dialogue at all. “But then I started to think about there being, after a period of no dialogue, an avalanche of dialogue”’.91 Some critics think McQueen and Walsh make this work92 – ‘Níl aon eagla air roimh chiúinas, go deimhin úsáideann sé é mar ghléas’93 (He isn’t afraid of silence, indeed he uses it like polish), while others are less convinced: ‘the only inauthentic aspect of the film is the block’s quietness’.94 Making sense of the peculiar juxtaposition of language, in particular the Irish language, and silence in this context is not a simple matter of measuring the likely historical record, a reconstruction of sound. Instead, it is a matter of understanding their function at that time, in that context. Following Wittgenstein, Steiner remarked that ‘Language can only deal meaningfully with a special, restricted segment of reality. The rest, and it is presumably the much larger part, is silence.’95 In a similar vein, Sontag, in her essay on the aesthetics of silence, argues that silence can be made to make language more powerful, less ambiguous: ‘Silence’ never ceases to imply its opposite [i.e. sound] and to demand on its presence […] Another use for silence: furnishing or aiding speech to attain its maximum integrity or seriousness. Everyone has experienced how, when punctuated by long silences, words weight more; they become almost palpable. Or how, when one talks less, one begins feeling more fully one’s physical presence in a given space […] Silence can inhibit or counteract this tendency [i.e. the corrupted nature of language], providing a kind of ballast, monitoring and even correcting language when it becomes inauthentic.96

However, it ought not be thought that this contrast between language and silence is either absolute or complete. As Jaworski demonstrated in his groundbreaking work on the pragmatics of silence, like language itself silence is a powerful and sophisticated means of communication.97 Also, it can be a performative act, as Di Giulio rightly asserts: ‘In the context of political censorship, silence and metaphor become national modes of communication’.98 While the Irish republican prisoners now contend that they introduced the Irish language to their prison as a means of resisting the prison regime as a strategic feature of their protests, the archival evidence from NIO sources reveals that the attitude of the prison authorities towards the language was already determined prior to the initiation of the prison protests. Use of the Irish language as a means of resistance was, therefore, a matter of responding to the initial repression of the language by the prison authorities rather than an

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 102

04/04/2012 16:17

Performance 103

innovation on the part of the Irish republican prisoners. The prison authorities imposed various bans on the Irish language at different points in the policy history of the Cages and the H-Blocks. For example, during the course of 1975, from correspondence between a visitor – Philomena Donnelly of the County Antrim Executive of Republican Clubs – and a senior civil servant with responsibility for prison policy, we learn that Christmas cards carrying an Irish language greeting were routinely confiscated under Section 13 of the Prison Act (NI) 1953 and Rule 110(4) of Prison Rules (NI) 1954.99 In a letter of 4 February 1975, Robinson wrote to Donnelly that ‘Contrary to what you say, Christmas greetings cards were admitted to the prison, and only those which bore offensive slogans, etc., or which were written in a language other than English were excluded. There was no wish on the part of the prison authorities to intimidate or to harass anybody. They are, however, empowered to exclude correspondence which may be prejudicial to security or good order in prison’.100 Internal NIO communications are more revealing again. In a memo by Sloan, Secretary of the Board of Visitors to HMP the Maze, to two civil servants at the NIO, Tate and O’Dowd – dated 30 January 1975, hence prior to their writing to Donnelly – the policy whereby ‘Xmas cards sent to detainees were accepted but those which contained offensive slogans or had Gaelic inscriptions were not passed on to the inmate’ was queried.101 Handwritten comments upon the drafting of a suitable response to Sloan and letter of reply to Donnelly offer considerable insight to the NIO perspective on the language issue. Moody notes: ‘There are two drafts for your consideration. I have endeavoured to stay clear of the emotion issue of language but perhaps we do not really gain anything from dodging it’. Then, Tate suggests to O’Dowd on 31 January that ‘I think we should avoid any specific references, such as “Gaelic” in our reply to Miss Donnelly. I doubt if she would find any explanation we have to offer acceptable’. This dialogue concludes with a further note by Tate, dated 4 February, confirming that he had spoken to Mr McMullan, the Deputy Governor of HMP the Maze and that the Christmas cards had been accepted apart from those cards with ‘offensive motif e.g. chains dripping with blood or huts in flames’ and, secondly, ‘cards written in Gaelic were not allowed into Maze [i.e. HMP the Maze] […] on the grounds it would be against prison rules – Prisoners who are able to speak English should write their letters in English. Conversely where English is the common language of the country, only letters in English should be accepted’.102 Significantly, the final draft of the letter which eventually made its way to Donnelly had the following sentence deleted from it: ‘All Christmas cards were allowed into the prison with the exception of those written in Gaelic, containing Gaelic verse or covered with offensive slogans’.103 This policy of censorship was applied covertly and was obviously regarded as politically sensitive. In a letter from W. G. Robinson, Senior

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 103

04/04/2012 16:17

104 Jailtacht

Assistant Secretary in the NIO at the time, to the Governors of all HMPs in Northern Ireland on the subject of ‘Admission of political literature to prisons’, he encourages them to be ‘as liberal as possible […] during the forthcoming election campaign’ so as to avoid political embarrassment.104 As this practice evolved it is clear from the sources that the prison governors were not unwilling supplicants. The Board of Visitors to HMP the Maze raised the matter of the Irish language during their meeting of 7 April 1975. As a result, a senior civil servant at the NIO, M. McGaughey, was obliged to write to the governors inviting their views on the Board’s recommendation that ‘prisoners be permitted to write letters in Irish and receive letters written in Irish’.105 Their response was to reject this in the most certain tone. Governor S. C. Hilditch describes Irish as ‘a foreign language’.106 In his response, Governor D. McMullan of HMP the Maze asserts that ‘Even the most ardent supporter of the Gaelic language admits that it is purely a matter of preserving Irish culture’.107 In his reply to the enquiry of the Secretary of the Board of Visitors on 19 May, McGaughey states baldly that ‘the present rule as incorporated in Standing Orders Sub Section 5A (40) is that prisoners who speak English must correspond in that language’.108 For the prisoners, the choice was clear – English, or nothing. Thus, in this context the Irish language as a censored tongue became an equivalent to silence. By the time the Irish republican prison protests began in HMP the Maze in 1976, it was beginning to become clear to the prison authorities that their censorship of the Irish language had not caused it to disappear. Instead, it was increasingly and deliberately used in very specific and politically visible situations. One civil servant at the NIO, E. N. Barry, succinctly observed the following in an internal report on the attitudes of some prisoners upon conviction in court: ‘A number of the protestors are defiant, truculent and unrepentant. They either refuse to plead, answer in Irish or make utterances such as “the system will break before we will”.’109 The three actions had become one – silence, Irish and the violent resolution of things. In this way the Irish language first developed its performative function and the institutions and instruments of the British state played a full, if entirely unintentional, part in bringing that about. Only gradually did the prisoners themselves become aware of the full potential of Irish in this regard. It wasn’t until the mid-1980s that such an action was deemed to be of noteworthy value for reasons of propaganda. The attention Seán Ó Canainn’s refusal to recognise the court in English, and his conviction because of that, enjoyed the full glare of the Irish republican media spotlight in 1985.110 During the period 1976 to 1981 the action was confined to the prison itself. It was an intimate struggle for control over the prison environment between prisoners and warders. A kind of rhythm may well have been tacitly agreed between the two groups:

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 104

04/04/2012 16:17

Performance 105 They [prison warders] weren’t able to stop us communicating in Irish as after lights out there were only prisoners on the wards, in the blocks. We were left to our own devices. There’d be forty or fifty prisoners on a wing and only four or five warders so it was impossible for them to control it. (Séanna Walsh interview with the author 2007)

In contrast to the use of prohibited Irish, simple and straightforward silence was very ambiguous indeed. At the outset of the prison protest the prison authorities imposed a regime of total silence: As more and more republican prisoners were sentenced [subsequent to the removal of Special Category Status on 1 March 1976] they followed the example of Kieran Nugent and refused to wear the prison uniform or do prison work. Their numbers in the early days were still small, however, and they felt very vulnerable. A very strict regime was imposed by the guards and prison authorities in an attempt to break the protest. The prisoners had nothing in their cells except cell furniture, a Bible and the prison uniform which they refused to wear. They had no cigarettes, radio, TV, papers, books, magazines, pens, nothing. They were not even allowed to communicate to one another. Anyone caught doing so was assaulted by the prison guards. Neither were they allowed to speak to the conforming prisoners who were held in the same wing. A regime of ‘silence’ was strictly imposed.111

Thus, silence had a very negative quality. The silence that accompanied the 1981 hunger strike was profoundly inimical to the prisoners: ‘Bobby had asked us not to get into silence. We were all in mourning for the duration. The thing was one massive period of death and mourning and saturation with death.’112 One of the prisoners recalls an especially painful period of silence which they baptised ‘seachtain dona’ (bad week): Throughout the blanket (protest) there were periods of calculated brutality. The biggest evidence of that which I experienced was the ‘seachtain dona’ (bad week) in 1979. Morale was still high at this time and people still hopeful of a resolution of the situation. Then the PO [i.e. Principal Officer – uniformed warder] and SO [i.e. Senior Officer – lower-ranking uniformed warder] of our Block were taken off and the seachtain dona started. Cell searches were conducted morning, noon and night, which meant beatings. The atmosphere in the wing was the worst I ever knew. The concentration was in our wing but they also went around the Block. The atmosphere in the wing was silence, total silence.113

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 105

04/04/2012 16:17

106 Jailtacht

In other circumstances silence was positively welcomed by the prisoners: ‘Around half twelve a deep silence would come because the screws had gone off to their dinner. That silence told you that was them away, that it was safe. We could start the Irish classes then. The one screw who was left on the wing wouldn’t interfere’.114 Sometimes a prison warder could be forced into silence: ‘A screw began jeering and shouting from the top of the wing trying to disrupt the ongoing Gaelic class but the lads continued, disregarding him. It happened all the time. The screws achieved nothing, soon got fed up, and departed’.115 Then, several years after the 1981 hunger strike the Irish republican prisoners rediscovered the energising effect of the censorship of the Irish language upon them. For example, prisoner Mark Rodgers cheerfully notes the issue in a letter to the Irish language correspondent of The Irish Times, the contents of which was described in the article entitled ‘Scéala ón “Jailtacht”’ in the issue of 1 July 1987: I mBéarla a bhí an litir toisc nár cheadaigh an cinsire do Mhark í a chur amach i nGaeilge – d’ainneoin go bhfuil sé ráite go bhfuil na rialacha cinsireachta faighte níos boige ar na mallaibh. ‘So like any “decent British citizen” I’ll make do with English!’ a deir sé. (The letter is in English because this censor did not allow Mark to send it out in the Irish language – despite it being said that the censorship rules are softer of late. ‘So like any “decent British citizen” I’ll make do with English!’ he says.)116

In a second letter, referred to in The Irish Times of 30 September 1987, Rodgers makes a request for readers of the newspaper to forward to him the Irish language terms for certain political vocabulary as well as an Irish language copy of The Communist Manifesto as there was none in prison. This absence, he explains, was due to the censorship of Irish language material, but he felt that this was something that the good readers of the newpapers might be able to circumvent: Ós rud é nach bhfuil aon chosc ar an leagan Béarla sa phríosún, ceapann sé nach mbeadh aon fhadhb ach oiread leis an leagan Gaeilge de mhórshaothar seo Mharx agus Engels. Tá cinsire le Gaeilge fostaithe sa phríosún anois, deir sé, ach fós féin b’éigean dó a litir chugainn a scríobh i mBéarla. Tá cosc fos ar litreacha Gaeilge, deir sé, cé nach bhfuil aon chosc ar leabhair Ghaeilge – ach amhain ábhar an leabhair a bheith ‘oiriúnach’. (Given the fact that there is no ban on there being an English language version in the prison, he thinks that there wouldn’t be a

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 106

04/04/2012 16:17

Performance 107 problem either with an Irish language version of Marx and Engels’ great work. An Irish language censor is currently being employed by the prison, he says, but all the same his letter to me is in English. A ban remains on letters in Irish, he says, although there is no ban on Irish books – on the understanding that the content is ‘suitable’.)117

The matter of censorship became even more intense during the second half of the 1980s as Sinn Féin was made subject to a ban on their being heard directly on the broadcast media. This came into force on 19 October 1988 and it meant that in practice, while members of Sinn Féin could appear on the television and radio, their words had to be spoken by an actor.118 The ban was brought to an end in 1994, at the time of the IRA ceasefire, but while it lasted it proved to be of enduring propaganda value to the Irish republican movement. The censorship of Irish language material in prison remained in place despite the ceasefire and as the peace process began to evolve, the prisoners continued to struggle against it. Notes in the series of ‘Conditions Logs’ or ‘Conditions Books’ kept by the Irish republican prisoners for their wings during the late 1980s and 1990s track the ongoing frustration with the issue.119 Documentation from prisoners’ meetings held during 1996 to discuss the issue of Irish language censorship indicates that matters were brought to a head at around that point. Amongst their concerns were ‘that every Gaeilge [i.e. Irish] letter is censored, whereas only 10% of letters in English are censored […] the delays on letters in Gaeilge, where men have to wait up to 10 days for a letter to be censored’.120 Part of their strategy was ‘to use Ó Cairealláin and Conradh na Gaeilge’121 to press their case with the NIO. The politicisation of Conradh na Gaeilge under the northern Irish leadership of Gearóid Ó Cairealláin and ‘some associates of the so-called Northern “jailtacht”’122 was a matter of concern in certain quarters at that time.123 As the parties outside edged ever closer to political agreement the censorship of Irish ended de facto. Prisoners now began to produce their own headed stationery adorned only with Irish language imagery and address.124 They invited individuals and organisations to send them Irish language books and magazines.125 Also, they advertised for penfriends in Irish: ‘Tá cimí Poblachtacha sa Jailtacht, an sciathan Gaeilge i bpríosún na Ceise Fada, ag irraidh ar chailíní/mhná a bhfuil Gaeilge acu agus ar spéis leo scríobh chucu, dul i dteagmháil leo.’126 (Republican prisoners in the Jailtacht, the Irish language wing in Long Kesh, are asking girls/women who speak Irish and are interested in writing to them to get in touch). Ultimately, policy was changed de jure. The judgement delivered by Judge Deeny regarding the case of Casey and the Governor of HMP Maghaberry (aka Armagh) in 2005127 was that sub-paragraph (c) of paragraph 4.8 of the Northern Ireland Prison Service Standing Orders which placed restrictions on the use of ‘any language other than English’ was ‘unlawful’. This overturned

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 107

04/04/2012 16:17

108 Jailtacht

the judgements on the place of the Irish language in prison delivered in relation to a case on the matter of the confiscation of Irish language Bibles (held in October 1987 but unrecorded) and also in relation to the case and subsequent appeal brought by Mac Cormaic and Pickering in June 1989 (heard by Judge Petrie) and September 1990 respectively (both cases were unrecorded). Moreover, Judge Deeny’s encouragement of the Prison Service to formulate policy so as to achieve ‘a proper recognition of parity of esteem between persons of different background’, very much reflects the new political dispensation in Northern Ireland now at work.128 Conclusions Seeing Jailic style, with all of its grammatical faults and limitations, as linguistic performance confirms Bourdieu’s critique of the approach to language taken by Saussure and Chomsky. He takes issue with their distinctions, respectively, between (1) langue and parole, in which parole is understood as ‘mere realization or execution of a pre-existing linguistic system’, and (2) competence and performance, where competence is ‘the capactity of an ideal speaker to generate an unlimited sequence of grammatically well formed sentences’.129 For Bourdieu, the point is this: ‘The kind of competence that actual speakers possess is not a capacity to generate an unlimited sequence of grammatically well formed sentences, but rather a capacity to produce expressions which are appropriate for particular situations, that is, a capacity to produce expressions à propos’.130 In this way the particular social and historical context in which language is produced is crucial, especially with regard to the relationship between speakers and listeners, the actors and the acted upon. In this set of circumstances, Jailic style was not about mere communication rather it was transformative. Its expression was a serial, continuous, performative utterance. Through this linguistic performance, by asserting their authority to, for example, rename themselves along with the material and ideational world of the prison, the prisoners brought about a real change in both personal and environmental status.131 The performance was also promissory as it described the world as it might be in the future.132 The power of that performativity is manifest on the street, literally. The naming of Irish republican prisoner Gearóid Mac Aoide (aka Gerry Magee/Gearóid Mac Aoidh) and his place of origin in Irish (‘Béal Feirste’ as opposed to ‘Belfast’), whilst the names of all other prisoners on the graffiti mural133 are in English, transforms both that individual prisoner and the meaning of the space in which his name is being read. But the prison cell is the original context, the iterative core. It was there that the Irish republicans, in their physical and disciplinary isolation,134 sought to reach out to each other and to resist. This was where and how they stumbled across the performative power of Jailic style.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 108

04/04/2012 16:17

5 Visual Grammar Ná habair é, déan é. (Don’t say it, do it) (Popular Irish republican adage)

Introduction While the so-called ‘Free Derry Wall’ is the earliest and one of the best known of Irish nationalist murals (Woods, 1995), it was not until the hunger strike of 1981 that Irish republicans fully engaged with their political potential (Rolston, 1991, 1992 and 1995) and their use developed during the years that followed. It was through these post-1981 murals that the Irish language became visible as a feature of Irish republican discourse. Such murals have become familiar to many people as a result of their being a part of the backdrop to international news and current affairs programmes, but yet, as McCormick and Jarman rightly point out, they are dynamic and politicised means of communication and not ‘banal and anonymous expressions of … paramilitary culture (McCormick and Jarman, 2005: 50). This dynamic element is often neglected in the study of visual resources generally (e.g. Van Leeuwen, 2005: 26). Indeed, one of the most dynamic elements of these political murals is the Irish language, a fact somewhat neglected by Jarman, McCormick, Rolston and others. The dynamism of the language merits attention. Consequently, I have organised the emergence and evolution of the Irish language in this very particular genre around three distinctive historical periods, each of which is defined by a separate paradigm shift in the construction of Irish republican murals. These periods are as follows: 1981–6, 1987–92, and 1993–2008. The murals deploy both image and text, and are set in certain fixed physical locations but may be exported to other media. I take the position that they are best understood as semiotic resources (Van Leeuwen, 2005: 3) in that they are pregnant with meaning, and that this is not pre-given but is at least partly determined by use (e.g. Hodge and Kress, 1988). As with Van Leeuwen and others, I draw upon Halliday’s (1978) influential framing of the key metafunctions of language, viz: • T  he ideational function – representing ideas about and events in the world – ‘about something’  he interpersonal function – representing certain social relations and • T interactions – ‘doing something’

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 109

04/04/2012 16:17

110 Jailtacht

• The textual function – representing a coherent (connecting the ideational and the interpersonal) account of the world in a meaningful text – ‘text-forming potential’ (Halliday, 1978: 112). In this context, the idea of the discursive regime (who gets to speak, what can be said, who gets to hear) is used to try to show how questions of power and authority permeate this particular sort of Irish language material (e.g. Foucault, 1972; Fairclough, 1989 and 1995). Thus, my analysis draws heavily upon the field of social semiotics in general as it sets out to explain the changing function and significance of the Irish language in the context of this particular genre. Resources, 1981–1986 The prison protests that culminated in the hunger strike of 1981 were a specific response to the British government policy of criminalisation begun in 1976. The resistance of the Irish republican prisoners to their treatment as criminals as opposed to political prisoners was crucial in the war for hearts and minds in Northern Ireland. The legitimacy of the Irish republican campaign of political violence (resumed following the conclusion of the IRA ceasefire, which was widely regarded as having been disastrous for the organisation, in 1975) was much contested in local Catholic, and broadly nationalist, communities. For example, a major social attitudes survey of the late 1970s showed that most Catholics viewed the campaign of political violence as ‘criminal’ with sixty-six per cent of Catholics expressing agreement with the assertion that ‘the IRA are basically a bunch of criminals and murderers’ (survey originally published in 1981 by Moxon-Browne; quoted in Whyte 1990: 85). In addition, the ‘Peace People’ campaign was having a significant impact on undermining popular support for the IRA campaign of political violence at that time (O’Duffy, 1995). Two of its most prominent members were awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1976 (http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/peace/laureates/1976/press.html). Irish republicans needed to rediscover the support given to them in the early 1970s if they were going to be able to sustain the long war which they now saw themselves engaged in and thus, the emergence of political murals played a significant part in the propaganda campaign waged by Irish republicans at that time. More specifically, the Irish language material that appears in the political murals between 1981 and 1986 has a number of characteristic features viz: • Common use of the Gaelic font • Predominant use of single words, slogans and complete texts • N  o translations of these single words, slogans and complete texts and no bilingual material • The first, illegal use of Irish language street-names

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 110

04/04/2012 16:17

visual grammar 111

• Linguistic errors • Intertextuality in relation to Irish republican texts • Limited multimodality. I will define and explain these various characteristics through examining a number of specific examples in their contexts. The recent recollections of Irish republicans of the development and function of the murals from this period appear to be rather sentimental. Take, for example, Danny Devenny. Today, he is widely known as an Irish republican muralist but in the early 1970s he was arrested, and subsequently imprisoned, along with Séanna Walsh, following a failed bank robbery aimed at securing funds for the IRA (Cole, 2009; Hayt, 1998). He recalls that ‘The graffiti and the murals that followed [blanket protest and hunger strike] were these kids [of a nationalist and republican community] telling the state, “they [prisoners and IRA] have our support” … when the kids picked up the paint brushes, they found a way of building confidence in their community’ (Casciani, 2000). Contemporary accounts are grittier. McGuigan (1983: 16) noted at the time that ‘The murals were painted in clusters. Those involved in their production seldom strayed far from their own streets; there was a security afforded by being close to home’. Muralists were often subject to the aggressive attention of the RUC and the British Army (e.g. Davies, 2001; McCormick and Jarman, 2005; Sluka, 1992). Given their ‘secure’ location these murals cannot be said to have demarcated the interface of violently opposed ethno-political communities. They were not the markers of boundaries. Instead, they were a site of dialogue between Irish republicans and the community from within which they sought to operate. McGuigan claims that murals were intended to be understood ‘at a glance’ because ‘they comprised of familiar symbols from the catholic nationalist culture’ (1983: 16) and the local community easily noticed and recognised them as they stood out from ‘the confusion of twelve years of graffiti’ (1983: 15). Gerard ‘Mo Chara’ Kelly, another Irish republican muralist, claims that the murals ‘give the people of the immediate area a sense of pride … people would stand and look at a mural before they would read a paper’ (quoted in Davies, 2001: 157). Bairbre de Brún (currently a Sinn Féin Member of the European Parliament and a minister in the Northern Ireland Assembly Government) asserts that the murals were necessary because of the anti-Irish republican bias of the mass media: ‘if we want to see it, to make it visible, then we have to do it oursleves’ (quoted in Davies, 2001: 157). Despite their prominence, the murals were not, at this stage, looked upon as art, nor were their authors regarded as artists. Instead, each mural was painted by multiple muralists (and often signed as having been constructed by the area’s Republican Youth or Sinn Féin

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 111

04/04/2012 16:17

112 Jailtacht

Youth) although the muralist responsible for drawing the initial chalk outline on the wall (described by McGuigan as the ‘chalk artist’) often had ‘the final say’ (McGuigan, 1983: 17). Irish language material appears in this ‘confusion of graffiti’ at around this time. For example, a distinctive Irish language graffito (Plate 7) appeared amongst a cluster of graffiti in the Irish republican area of the Bogside in Derry sometime during the early 1980s.

Plate 7: ‘Seabhac’, Glenfada Park/Rossville Street, Derry, c.1983 source: © Tony Crowley and with acknowledgement to the Claremont Colleges Digital Library

It consists, very simply, of the nom de guerre of a well-known Irish republican from the area, namely /Seabhac/, meaning ‘Hawk’ (Clarke, 2007). This term parallels those ascribed to the various argot characters described in contemporary accounts by Irish republican prisoners of life in prison – the Píoba (the Pipe), the Francach (the rat), the Albanach (Scot) and An Madradh Rua (the fox), for example. Campbell (1994) and Adams (1990) give the fullest accounts of these characters. For the informed local Irish republican community, this graffito conjures up that world on the backstreets of inner-city Derry. It also, however, functions on a deeper, cognitive level. The use of the traditional Gaelic, as opposed to Roman, font deliberately invites interpretation beyond simply knowing the name. This typographic flourish, whereby the name is inscribed as /Seab|ac/ instead of /Seabhac/, emphasises difference, Irish national identity as opposed to British, the Irish language as opposed to English. The Gaelic font underlines this implied sense of difference and this is further reinforced by the use of /b|/ instead of the more modern and standard Irish /bh/. Thus, this graffito conforms to an important early feature of Irish republican style in the Irish language as developed by the prisoners in the Cages of HMP Long Kesh during the early 1970s. The predominance of English language graffiti at this site is significant. It is a reflection of the fact that the English language is overwhelmingly the dominant and normative language of both the local community and the Irish republican movement.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 112

04/04/2012 16:17

visual grammar 113

Moreover, its messages are brutally clear. Taken together, the graffiti comprise a closed text (Cobley, 2001: 170) in which no ambiguities are present and no acts of interpretation are required of the reader (Plate 7). /Seab|ac/ is exceptional; an intimate but yet alien shadow. A few other murals from this period echo this message and while McGuigan (our earliest significant commentator) makes no specific reference to the use of the Irish language in the murals with which he is familiar, an Irish language street-name is clearly visible in one of his images (McGuigan, 1983: 16). This is instructive because at around the time McGuigan was writing these murals, they quickly came to function, along with Irish language street-names, as sites of resistance as well as intra-community dialogue. Under the Public Health and Local Government Act 1949 Irish language street-names were banned (this was repealed under the Local Government (Miscellaneous Provisions) (NI) Order 1995). O’Reilly (1998: 47) describes how, in 1983, Sinn Féin conducted a campaign to erect Irish language streetnames in many parts of west Belfast. At the same time, the local branch of the Irish language organisation Glór na nGael became involved in a campaign to have the 1949 Act repealed. As with Irish language street-names, the display of symbols associated with Irish republicanism was prohibited in Northern Ireland by law under the Flags and Emblems Display Act 1954 (this was repealed under the Public Order (NI) Order 1987). To construct a mural containing such symbols was, therefore, a simple but very effective assertion of resistance to British law. Monolingual Irish language slogans begin to appear at this time. One noteworthy example (Plate 8) was painted in monochrome – white script on a black background – the typography proposed by Bobby Sands for the Irish republican murals that would, he believed, agitate widespread violence during the course of the 1981 hunger strike (O’Hearn, 2006). This mural is notable in that it is only in Irish. As with the graffito in Derry, this text could not be easily read by the vast majority of the local population. Instead, it was designed to be read as a slogan whose meaning is not derived from literally reading the words. Translated it means ‘There will be no peace without freedom’ but most of the locals would only have understood it as an Irish language slogan associated with Irish republicanism. Thus, knowing the slogan means drawing the implication that the Irish language and Irish republicanism are related. The stylised, partially Gaelic font bears resemblance to the Derry graffito (Plate 7) and serves the same function with regard to the local non-Irish-speaking population. Those more competent in the Irish language and engaged with its increasing politicisation would know the meaning of the slogan in its literal sense. The precise physical location of this mural, a feature of its composition (Van Leeuwen, 2005: 198), is meaningful. It is located in Shaw’s Road in west

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 113

04/04/2012 16:17

114 Jailtacht

Plate 8: ‘Ní bheidh síocháin ann gan saoirse’, Shaws Road, Belfast, c.1983 source: © Tony Crowley and with acknowledgement to the Claremont Colleges Digital Library

Belfast which is also the site of the urban Gaeltacht that so inspired Bobby Sands as he was learning Irish in the Cages (O’Hearn, 2006). The emergence of the Shaw’s Road Gaeltacht preceded the Irish republicanism of the early 1970s but the placing of the mural in this location invites a reading which draws a relationship between the two. Unlike many other early murals this example survived for many years to be photographed by David Gepp during 1992 (http:// www.bbc.co.uk/wales/mid/sites/arts/pages/davidgepp.shtml?9), albeit in much debased form. This is fairly unusual for murals from this period. McGuigan (1983) noted that murals had a very short life. They would be painted in a few days but seldom lasted more than a few weeks as paint bomb attacks upon them were very frequent. They were, consequently, largely regarded as an ephemeral form of communication and resistance. The Irish language slogan in Shaw’s Road is different and the reason for this, I would suggest, is its location. Shaw’s Road is far from any ethno-political interface and, as a result, relatively protected from impromptu, drive-by paint bomb attacks. Also, as it appears to have been intended for the network of Irish-speakers, whose physical focal point was the Shaw’s Road, its message was more muscular. That is to say, its purpose was to radicalise, in Irish republican terms, the pre-existing Irish language community in nationalist west Belfast and also to legitimise Irish republican interest in the language as being grounded in the contemporary community and not the historical fetish of obscurantist ideologues. Thus, from the outset the Irish language in Irish republican political murals (even in their most base forms) is an important connotator (Van Leeuwen, 2005: 38) – that is, it is a means of introducing layers of meaning and alternative readings. While the use of Irish in political murals was increasingly attractive to Irish republicans during the early 1980s, the language posed some unanticipated challenges. A good example of this is the graffito from Unity Flats in Belfast (Plate 9). This bilingual slogan includes three words in Gaelic font which can be translated as ‘The Voice of the People’. It is not necessary to

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 114

04/04/2012 16:17

visual grammar 115

PLATE 9: ‘Guth Án Phobail’, Unity Flats, Belfast, c.1983 source: © Tony Crowley and with acknowledgement to the Claremont Colleges Digital Library

understand Irish as, in this case, the English language graffiti largely explains the meaning of the Irish language slogan. However, it is instructive to note that the first letter of the first word has been mistranscribed as /J/ by archivists of this particular image. It is clearly intended to be a Gaelic font /G/, that is /G/. It is not a misspelling on the part of the graffiti artist but rather a mistypographic. The /Á/ at the start of the second word, however, is a mistake. It ought to read /A/, or in Gaelic font /A/. Such flaws and unintentional ambiguities appear in the Irish language of some of the other murals from this period. For example, a very early mural, located at Lenadoon Avenue, Belfast and dated to 1981 (Rolston, 1991: 77) reads, in capital letters /TIOCFAIDH AN LÁ NUAIR BEIDH ÉIRE SAOIR ARÍS/. O’Reilly (1998: 61) ‘corrects’ this as follows: /Tiocfáidh an lá nuair a bheidh Éire soar arís/. O’Reilly inserts a ‘fada’ accent above the /a/ in /tiocfaidh/ (she appears to have taken for granted that a later mural, which reads /Tiocfáidh ár lá/, and which she reproduces in her text on page 54 from Whiterock Road in 1991, is correct when it is not) but the other corrections stand. The linguistic errors arise from a limited grasp of Irish language syntax and also a faulty familiarity with the sloganised word /saoirse/ (freedom). The muralist probably anticipated that ‘free’ would be ‘saoir’ rather than ‘saor’, crudely following English syntax in this case: Freedom – ‘dom’ = free Saoirse – ‘se’ = saoir

Another early mural, from Anderstonstown, Belfast and dated to 1981 by Rolston (1991: 88), carries a monolingual Irish title /Sasanach Amach/ in very partially Gaelicised script. This is achieved through the use of the Gaelic font for the opening /A/ in the word /amach/ (out) – hence /Amach/. Rolston translates this as ‘British Out’ and that, or ‘English Out’, is no doubt the intended meaning of the slogan but the Irish text as it stands is not actually correct. The miscomprehension

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 115

04/04/2012 16:17

116 Jailtacht

is probably the result of misreading Ó Dónaill’s definitive Irish-English dictionary (1977) in which the word is recorded as having two meanings: Sasanach, m. (gs. & npl. –aigh, gpl. ~) 1. English person. 2. Hist: & F: Protestant. Sasanach, a1. English.

The careful user of the dictionary will note that the plural form of the noun (i.e. Sasanaigh) has been bypassed by the muralist for the adjectival form of the word, meaning ‘English’. It ought to read /Sasanaigh Amach/. A similar case is the mural constructed at Beechmont Avenue, Belfast in 1985 (Rolston, 1991: 94). This is crowned with /STAD MAGGIE ANOIS!/ which means /STOP MAGGIE NOW!/ This is a reference to the then British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher and the message is clear. The word /STAD/ is commonly used in road signs in Republic of Ireland to mean /STOP/ and so from our familiarity with the mundane linguistic landscape (e.g. Gorter, 2006) we can be fairly confident of its popular meaning. But if your understanding of Irish is more subtle then the mural is actually rather ambiguous. /STAD!/ is the singular imperative in Irish. Hence, the mural could perhaps be read as being addressed to Maggie herself; that is, a direct appeal to her for her to stop herself. Given the political context, this is very unlikely to have been the intended meaning. Instead it is very likely to have been addressed to numerous others (readers of the mural in that part of Belfast) encouraging them to cause, or force, Maggie to stop. This being the case, it ought to read /STADAIGÍ MAGGIE ANOIS!/, using the plural imperative form. The author of the mural betrays the heavy influence of English grammar on his Irish – there is no plural imperative form in the English language. The Irish language appears in some other early murals in the distinctive form of complete sections of text, invariably poetry. The poem ‘Mise Éire’ by Patrick Pearse is a very popular motif, appearing in several murals. A good example of this type was constructed on the gable wall of an end-of-terrace

Plate 10: ‘Mise Éire 1’, Chamberlain Street, Derry, c.1983 source: indymedia http://www.indymedia.ie/attachments/feb2006/mise_eire.jpg

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 116

04/04/2012 16:17

visual grammar 117

house on Chamberlain Street in Derry (Plate 10). The reproduction of the text is instructive. We know from the Irish republican prisoners that one of their techniques for learning the language was to learn by rote chunks of text from the Bible or other well-known Irish language texts. The poetry of Patrick Pearse was a very popular source amongst some of the prisoners because he was an iconic figure in the Irish republican tradition as a prominent leader of the Irish revolution of 1916 and a member of the original IRA which was founded at that time. In addition, he played a leading role in the Irish language organisation Conradh na Gaeilge (the Gaelic League) and its eventual radicalisation as an organisation with political sympathy for Irish nationalism. Pearse is not identified in this example, so only the informed reader would know that the author is that particular Irish republican martyr of 1916, but he is clearly identified in other constructions of ‘Mise Éire’. It is most reasonable to assume that the muralists took for granted that their intended audience would be familiar with the poem and its implied political meanings. However, the text is not complete. Lines 7 to 10 (see below for the complete text of the poem) have been omitted. While this exclusion is not unique (for example, the same lines are excluded from the version of the poem that is reproduced in Evans, 1989), it suggests that the text here is not to be read line for line and that even in its partial and reconstructed form it is understood to be a coherent artefact: Mise Éire: Sine mé ná an Chailleach Bhéarra. Mór mo ghlóir: Mé a rug Cú Chulainn cróga. Mór mo náire: Mo chlann féin a dhíol a máthair. Mór mo phian: Bithnaimhde do mo shíorchiapadh. Mór mo bhrón: D’éag an dream inar chuireas dóchas. Mise Éire: Uaigní mé ná an Chailleach Bhéarra. (I am Ireland: Older than the Hag of Beara. Great is my glory: I who bore brave Cú Chulainn. Great is my shame: My own children who sold their mother. Great is my pain: My irreconcilable enemy who torments me continually.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 117

04/04/2012 16:17

118 Jailtacht

Great is my sorrow: Dead are the people in whom hope was placed. I am Ireland: Lonelier than the Hag of Beara.) The poem is a component part of a composition that includes several images which conjure up an impression of the imagined proto-historic Celtic and heroic Ireland of the mythical Ulster warrior Cú Chulainn. The use of the Gaelic font reinforces this impression; indeed the Gaelic text is the central and therefore most salient artefact on the mural. This mural, like most others, is often reproduced as a simple, singular photographic image but to grasp its full meaning it must be read in its context. As with most other murals, its precise physical location, or its composition (Van Leeuwen, 2005: 198), is vital. It appears as one of a series of end-of-terrace murals that are intended to be read in relation to each other. Indeed, it would be impossible to do otherwise. Viewed in this context, where the ‘Mise Éire’ mural is juxtaposed with that of an IRA funeral party firing a volley of shots over the grave of an Irish republican, the relationship claimed between the past and the present is explicit and unambiguous (Plate 11). Moreover, the Irish language is one of a set of symbols – the rising sun, the phoenix, Cú Chulainn, an inscribed stone reminiscent of the kerbstones of the megalithic tomb at Newgrange, Celtic lettering and designs reminiscent of medieval illuminated manuscripts, a portal tomb, early historic weaponry, a contemporary IRA gun party – that together create a narrative that explains the political violence of that time. Exporting, to use Van Leeuwen’s term (2005), a single mural has the effect of losing some of that narrative. Other pieces of Irish language text include slogans taken from the rhetoric of early twentieth century Irish republicans. For example, a very

Plate 11: ‘Mise Éire 2’, Chamberlain Street, Derry, c.1983 source: Woods, 1995

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 118

04/04/2012 16:17

visual grammar 119

Plate 12: ‘Éire saor’, Turf Lodge, Belfast, 1982, source: Buckley, 2000

early mural, dating from 1982, from the Turf Lodge area of Belfast carries the line /Éire soar o lár go farraige/ (A free Ireland from the centre to the sea) (Plate 12). The slogan is taken directly from a Sinn Féin election poster of 1918. This mural along with the particular slogan coincides with the rise of the ‘new’, post-hunger strike Sinn Féin of the early 1980s and demonstrates that those in favour of a party political dimension to the Irish republican struggle (by no means was there consensus on this approach within the Irish republican movement at this time) sought to draw legitimacy from historical precedent. The mural carries the dates 1916 and 1982 along with iconic images of Patrick Pearse and James Connolly. Connolly was the leading socialist participant in events of 1916 and, as such, is a figure that attracts much sympathy amongst Irish republicans of socialist and Marxist leanings. Once again, the audience for this mural was very local. Also appearing at this time were slogans drawn from the writings of Bobby Sands. The slogan /Tiocfaidh ár lá/ (Our day will come) enjoys very widespread use from the outset. There are very many early examples. The simple mural constructed on Hawthorn Street in Belfast sometime before 1984 is a significant example for a number of reasons (Plate 13).

Plate 13: ‘Tiocfaidh ár lá 1, Hawthorn Street, Belfast, c.1984 source: Sinn Féin, 1984: 2

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 119

04/04/2012 16:17

120 Jailtacht

The most important reason is the fact that an image of this mural was reproduced in a seminal document on the meaning of the Irish language to the Irish republican movement, published by Sinn Féin in 1984. This publication was a crucial statement in the subsequent politicisation of the Irish language beyond the Cages and the H-Blocks. The image of the mural in the document is important because it contextualises the Irish language for political purposes as not only the revolutionary language of Irish republican prisoners but also, in a literal as well as metaphorical sense, of the streets. As the image appears in the English language text of this bilingual publication and not in the Irish text, it appears likely that the authors of the document intended it for an English speaking audience. It was an exhortation to engage with the language as a part of the Irish republican struggle against British domination, a domination which was in part cultural. The use of the Gaelic font – /Tiocfaidh ár lá/ instead of /Tiocfaidh ár lá/ – serves to underscore to such an audience the seductive otherness of the Irish language in contrast to English – the imperial tongue. The fact that the slogan is in Irish alone suggests that it was to be read as a single coherent item, that is to say that, given its English language target audience, its meaning was not actually in a literal reading of the words but rather in ‘knowing’ the slogan. To know it was to make connections between the language and the struggle. Knowing the language, on the other hand, would have meant recognising that the slogan is grammatically incorrect. It is better to say /Beidh ár lá again/ or /Beidh ár lá linn/. Clearly, some muralists were aware of this and there are some early examples of the use of the more correct alternatives. For example, O’Reilly refers (1998: 56) to a very early example of the use of /Beidh ár lá linn/, noting that the local broadly nationalist newspaper The Anderstonstown News, in an edition published on 15 July 1978, recorded the appearance of such a graffito in west Belfast sometime during 1978. Nevertheless, /Tiocfaidh ár lá/ remained the most persistent formulation amongst Irish republicans and may by now be taken as definitive.

Plate 14: ‘Tiocfaidh ár lá 2, Cable Street, Derry, 1984 source; Rolston, 1991: 102

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 120

04/04/2012 16:17

visual grammar 121

A noteworthy variation on the /Tiocfaidh ár lá/ motif is the mural located on Cable Street in Derry and dating from sometime during 1984. The use of the Gaelic font /Tiocfaid| ár lá/, including in particular the use of /d|/ instead of /dh/ (dh), contrasts with the English language text taken from the writings of Bobby Sands which is to be taken as it is read. However, the informed reader will know that the Irish language slogan was popularised in Irish republican circles through Sands’s writings. Hence, the Irish text extends the meaning of the English text. More interestingly, the /Tiocfaidh ár lá/ slogan is located on the mural as a slogan on a placard in the hands of an activist. The significance of this can only be inferred by understanding the placard as an icon in the company of other cognate icons, each a tool in the hands of the activist – an AK-47 sub-machine gun, a paint brush, a spanner, pencils, a book. Thus, the freedom-fighter, the artist, the intellectual, the writer, the worker and the Irishspeaker are all broadly equivalent parts of the struggle. However, the AK-47, the symbol of the armed struggle, rises over and above the others.

Plate 15: ‘I ndíl chuimhne’, St. James, Road, Belfast, c.1984 source: Rolston, 1992: 39

There is a second Irish language formulation that emerges in this early period and which remains a very persistent feature of Irish republican visual grammar. The wording /I ndíl chuimhne/ (‘In loving memory’), is widely used in murals of a commemorative type. The English language version is much less commonly used. This Irish language wording appears on many Irish republican grave inscriptions and other physical memorials (e.g. Viggiani, 2006) and almost certainly originates from this practice. The example chosen here is worth remarking upon as it has been made using the Gaelic font, thus it is written /I ndíl c|uim|ne/ instead of /I ndíl chuimhne/. The letter /I/ is also the standing stone to which the dying Cú Chulainn bound himself, so that he might never fall before the invaders of Ulster. The exact image is a copy of the sculpture of the same subject by Oliver Sheppard which was originally located in the foyer of the

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 121

04/04/2012 16:17

122 Jailtacht

General Post Office in Dublin, the headquarters of the Easter Rising of 1916. On the wall adjacent to the mural is a small plaque with the names in English of half a dozen dead IRA volunteers. In this way the mural and in particular the Irish slogan /I ndíl chuimhne/ romanticises violent, politicised death, manoeuvring it beyond rational questioning. It functions just as the Latin /Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori/ once did for Britain. Resources, 1987–1992 The appearance of murals with more extensive use of the Irish language coincides with the emergence of a generation of muralists as artists from amongst the Irish republican ex-prisoners. That is to say, individuals are increasingly identified as the authors of their own murals. At the same time we can see that the murals of this period were now aimed at a new audience, beyond the local community. In particular, the murals were intended to be used and co-opted by other media that were telling the story of the conflict in Northern Ireland, especially international news outlets. As a result, political function and aesthetic imperative coalesced. This relationship was endorsed by the prominent Irish artist Robert Ballagh, who himself subsequently contributed directly to the development of Irish republican mural type:1 Mar ealaíontóir, ghlac sé páirt sa chéad Fhéile an Phobail – nó The West Belfast Festival mar a bhíodh air – i 1988. ‘B’ábhar iontais dom go raibh pobal ar ar tugadh “a terrorist community” sásta aghaidh a thabhairt ar na healaoína mar antidote den iomhá a bhí aige, shíl mé gur rud iontach é sin’, ar Ballagh. (McMillen, 2009a: 12). (As an artist, he took part in the first Féile an Phobail – or The West Belfast Festival as it was then – in 1988. ‘It was a matter of great surprise to me that a community that was described as “a terrorist community” was keen to turn to the arts as an antidote to that perceived image, I thought that that was a wonderful thing’, says Ballagh.)

Together, these changes mark a paradigm shift with regard to the Irish language in Irish republican murals as can be seen in some more detailed examples. The ‘Loch gCál’ mural (Plate 16; see colour plate section) is, in several ways, pivotal. According to Rolston, ‘Republican areas had never seen a mural like it. The detail, the colour and the confidence were exceptional’ (1992: vi). The author was Gerard ‘Mo Chara’ Kelly, a former Irish republican prisoner. The monicker ‘Mo Chara’ is borrowed from the writing of Bobby Sands’s (e.g. diary entry of Saturday 14 March). Its intended meaning is ‘comrade’ and it is a classic example of Jailic. Gerard Kelly learned his Irish in the H-Blocks and it was

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 122

04/04/2012 16:17

visual grammar 123

this experience which moulds his use of the language in this mural. The use of the Gaelic font conforms to earlier practice but in this case the Irish language is a much more central feature of the mural. Indeed, there is considerable text on this wholly multimodal mural and it is all in Irish. This is particularly significant as some of the text is crucial to understanding the meaning of the mural. The use of the Irish language place names for the historical provinces of Ireland is not important as their meaning can be inferred from the provincial emblems mounted on shield-shaped designs against an iconic Irish landscape and from the skyscape shaped by the rising sun (itself a symbol of Irish republicanism). However, the Irish versions of the provinces – Connachta, Ulaidh, Mumhain and Laighean – provide a context in which the wholly unfamiliar Irish language version of the place name ‘Loughgall’ may be understood. The mural commemorates the killing of eight IRA volunteers by the SAS during an attack on an RUC station in the village of Loughgall in 1987. The political significance of place names was eventually noted by other actors. During the prologue to the peace process of the 1990s the British government provided very substantial funding to a project on the Irish language place names of Northern Ireland, as well as funding the publication of the first ever OS map of the region in Irish. Nash (1999) argues for an inclusive tradition in this regard but the ‘Loch gCál’ mural asserts otherwise. The use on the Celtic cross of the Irish language term for the IRA, /Óglaigh na hÉireann/, is not remarkable as the term was widely used in murals in the previous period. The term was first used as the Irish name for the Irish Volunteers, a paramilitary group active in Ireland between 1913 and 1919. It was subsequently used by the IRA as the successor organisation to the Irish Volunteers. The use of the formulation /I ndíl chuimhne/ on the space which lists the dead volunteers is not novel either. This too reflects earlier practice. But the rendering of the personal names of IRA volunteers completely and solely in Irish is a new development. It is not intended to identify these particular volunteers as Irish-speakers, although some of them are known to have also learned Irish in the H-Blocks alongside Gerard Kelly. The effect of this rendering has some philosophical implications as it causes these proper names to do more than simply refer to or denote (following J. S. Mill, for example) certain individuals. The Irish versions in this composition add sense or connotation (following Gottlob Frege, for example) to the function of the name. The juxtaposition of iconographic IRA volunteers, Celtic cross, landscape, placenames and rising sun bring a family of meanings (Wittgenstein, 1953: Passage 79) to the naming of the dead in Irish. In addition, the completeness of the Irish text, along with its originality (it is not a wording copied from elsewhere), brings the language to centre stage. It is necessary to read the Irish literally in order to know the most immediate message of the mural:

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 123

04/04/2012 16:17

124 Jailtacht

I ndíl c|uimhe De An ochtar óglach de [8 names in Irish] óglaigh na héireann a d|únmharú ag lochgcal ar an ochtú lá bealtaine 1987 (In loving memory of [8 names in Irish] the eight volunteers of the IRA murdered at Lochgall on the eighth of May 1987)

Plate 17: ‘Nuadha’, Springhill Avenue, Belfast, 1987 source: © Tony Crowley and with acknowledgement to the Claremont Colleges Digital Library

Gerard Kelly constructed another equally striking mural in the same year. His image of ‘Nuadha’ is a copy of a work by Jim Fitzpatrick (see, for example, a reproduction of the original image at http://wert.com.ua/ethnic/keltic/nuada. jpg, accessed 25 June 2009), the author of the world-famous poster image of Che Guevara produced in 1967, based upon the Albert Korda photograph of 1960. The ‘Nuadha’ mural is remarkable in that it can only be understood when read in its spatial or architectural context. That is to say, like the ‘Mise Éire’ mural on Chamberlain Street in Derry, its composition is key to its meaning. The ‘Nuadha’ mural sits adjacent to the ‘Loch gCál’ mural on Springhill

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 124

04/04/2012 16:17

visual grammar 125

Avenue. The two murals are designed to be understood in relation to each other. ‘Nuadha’ is the historical equivalent of the eight volunteers in ‘Loch gCál’ and thereby explains the primordial nature of the Irish republican struggle. Buckley (2000) captures the essence of the mythological figure of Nuadha (Nuadha, or Nuada or Nuadu, Airgedlámh, or Lámhairgid – Nuada of the Silver Arm or Silver Hand) from the Irish republican perspective as follows: In a figurative vein, Nuadha’s story also seems an apt allegory for the sectarian conflict in Northern Ireland, at least from the Republican perspective. The first king of the Tuatha Dé Danann (the original Irish in the mythological tradition), Nuadha loses his arm in battle and must abdicate the throne. His successor, Bres, allows the Tuatha Dé to fall under the tyranny of the Fomor, a brutish race of giants who dwell ‘across the sea’. His arm healed by druids, Nuadha regains the kingship of the Tuatha Dé and leads a revolt against the foreigners, reclaiming Ireland’s independence though he himself dies in the effort. Each character in the myth has a readily identifiable modern correlate: the Fomor represent the British, foreign imperialists bent on the subjugation of Ireland. Like the Irish collaborator, Bres permits the imperialists entry, thereby exposing Ireland’s native ‘language, games, and industries’ to nefarious foreign influences. Finally, Nuadha, the gallant Republican, expels the collaborators and the imperialists, liberating the Irish economically and politically. Notably, the druids, the guardians of Irish wisdom, restore Nuadha’s strength such that he can reclaim the kingship and successfully prosecute the revolution against the Fomor. Likewise, the modern Republican looks to the restoration of Irish language and culture, the wisdom safeguarded by the druids in the mythology, to empower him in his struggle with the British (Buckley, 2000).

Of course, accepting such a reading is based upon the premise that the audience are either already familiar with the Nuadha myth or that the mural will cause them to become so. It may well be the case that the sharing of the meaning of ‘Nuadha’ occurred as a part of the process of its construction as, according to Buckley (2000), Gerard Kelly used local children to colour in the mural. The Irish language text that encircles the figure of Nuadha mirrors that of the ‘Loch gCál’ mural in its use of the Gaelic font and all that that implies, although Gerard Kelly clearly employs a mixture of the traditional Gaelic and modern Irish font thereby compromising authenticity in the cause of clarity and simplicity: Is é seo Nuadha rí Tuatha de Danann Is é seo Nuadha rí Tuatha de Danann Here is Nuadha king of the Tuatha de Danann

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 125

04/04/2012 16:17

126 Jailtacht

The power and enduring popularity of the Nuadha mural is reflected in its continued reworking by Gerard Kelly both at this precise location (entitled ‘Nuada aris’ [sic] http://www.flickr.com/photos/jimfitzpatrick/3272233520/ in/photostream/, accessed 25 June 2009) and elsewhere in west Belfast (for example, this tapestry style work that ran the full height of a tower block of the Divis Flats and of which Jim Fitzpatrick was clearly proud http://www.flickr. com/photos/jimfitzpatrick/3271412403/, accessed 25 June 2009). However, in these later versions the Irish language text has disappeared.

Plate 18: ‘Bua’, Cable Street, Derry, 1987 source: Rolston, 1991: 108

At the same time as Gerard Kelly was working on the ‘Nuadha’ and ‘Loch gCál’ murals on Springhill Avenue in Belfast, a gable end on Cable Street in an Irish republican part of the city of Derry had become the site of a similar aesthetic breakthrough. The ‘Bua’ mural (Plate 18), incorporating a single Irish word /BUA/ (victory), was not the first mural to appear at this site (see Plate 14), rather it appeared on a much used and reused location. It was also much viewed, and much attacked, and at one stage it was allegedly destroyed by RUC with paint bombs. However, the ‘Bua’ mural marks a significant shift in style. It is based upon a design from an anti-fascist poster by the Catalan artist Joan Miró (aka Miró i Ferrà). This poster, entitled ‘Aidez l’Espagne’, was published in France in 1937 in the journal Cahiers d’Art (No.4–5, see http://www.formes-vives.org/ blog/images/arts-plastiques/miro-aidez-l-espagne.jpg, accessed 12 November 2008). The original carried a gloss in French – ‘Dans la lutte actuelle, je vois du côté fasciste les forces périmées, de l’autre côté le peuple dont les immenses ressources créatrices donneront à l’Espagne un élan qui étonnera le monde’. This was signed ‘Miró’ by the artist and it may be translated as follows – ‘In the current conflict I see massive forces on the Fascist side, and on the other side are the people whose immense and creative resourcefulness will give Spain a vitality which will astonish the world’. Clearly, the author seeks to draw attention to an international and historical comparator to the long war

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 126

04/04/2012 16:17

visual grammar 127

in the north of Ireland. The precise partial use of both the traditional Gaelic and modern Irish fonts in /BUA/ is significant. The use of the Gaelic form /A/ instead of /A/ underscores the Irish otherness of the word yet the author has not employed the full Gaelic font which would render the word /BUA/. The use of the Roman capital form of /B/, rather than the Gaelic /B/, suggests that the author felt that the former was more emphatic, more of a capital letter. It is a very simple word but its use was not common to the popular linguistic landscape until it was uniquely introduced by Irish republicans. Taken together, /BUA/ and the Miró-inspired figure make up a mural that may only be fully understood by the informed reader at first glance. The casual viewer would have to seek out an education in its meaning.

Plate 19: ‘Fiche blian 1’, Lower Falls, Belfast, c.1989 source: the author

Plate 20: ‘Fiche blian 2’, Sevastopol Street/Falls Road, Belfast, c.1989, source: © Tony Crowley and with acknowledgement to the Claremont Colleges Digital Library

The increasing impact of the politicisation of the Irish language in the prison can be seen in the greater diversity of murals and graffiti incorporating the Irish language. Some examples appear to be transported directly from the prison

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 127

04/04/2012 16:17

128 Jailtacht

cell to the city street. For example, the graffito /ar aghaidh chun bua/ (Plate 19) is the exact phrase which is the Irish language strapline to a significant English language document, internal to Irish republican prisoners, on the development of the Irish language in the H-Blocks at around that time (‘An Ghaeilge’). The very straightforward font used in this wholly bilingual graffito suggests a more practical function to the use of the language in this context. The romantic and historicising aspect of the Gaelic font is eschewed. Here, the language is equivalent to English – it is to be used in a social context, it is a feature of the struggle, it is a function of political violence. Another mural from 1989, marking twenty years of conflict, illustrates this point (Plate 20). The Irish language text here comprises two slogans in juxtaposition. The first is /Fiche blian ag streachailt/ (Twenty years struggling/ Twenty years of struggle). In this text the verbal particle /ag/ is smaller than every other word. This apparent anomaly allows for salience (Van Leeuwen, 2005), or, particular emphasis on the key ideas in the message, viz. (1) the twentieth anniversary of the outbreak of conflict – /Fiche blain/, and (2) the struggle, the Irish republican term for the long campaign of political violence – /streachailt/. There are echoes in the turn of phrase of /Fiche bliain ag fás/ (Twenty years a-growing), suggesting that it could read as a gesture towards this classic work of early twentieth century Irish literature.2 Despite its use here, the term /streachailt/ does not enter the Irish republican lexicon as the Irish language equivalent for /the struggle/. The word /streachailt/ means /struggle/ but can also mean /drag/ and therefore has some negative connotations. Later murals all use the word /coimhlint/. In the context of warfare this means /battle rivalry/ – /coimhlint chatha/. It is used in Irish republican circles to mean /conflict/. The second slogan is /Bua do mhuintir na hÉireann/ (Victory to the people of Ireland). Here, the increasing linguistic confidence of the authors is signified by the prefix of a lower case /h/ to /Éireann/, which is the correct eclipsis (‘urú’ is the grammatical term in Irish) of the word /Ireland/ in this context. In many of the earlier murals in which the eclipsis is pertinent the /h/ often appears incorrectly as a capital letter e.g. /Óglaigh na Héireann/ instead of /Óglaigh na hÉireann/. A final significant feature of this journey from prison to street is depicted in the ‘An Ghaeilge’ mural (Plate 21). The mural does not refer to the campaign of political violence but rather exhorts the reader to engage in the defence of the Irish language as a part of the broader conflict. In this period the struggle for the language on the streets moves beyond sloganising and becomes increasingly inventive. The graffiti on Carlisle Road (Plate 22), dating from 1989, are quite instructive in this sense. The text reads as follows: BÁS DON RUC DEATH TO THE RUC [POLICE] SAOIRSE NO BÁS FREEDOM OR DEATH SEALADAIGH ABÚ PROVISIONALS [IRA] FOREVER

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 128

04/04/2012 16:17

visual grammar 129

It includes an Irish language term for /Provisionals/, meaning the Provisional IRA, namely /na sealadaigh/. This is a part of the development of a specific Irish language Irish republican lexicon, and /Sealadaigh/ joins the older term /Óglaigh na hÉireann/ which is used to refer to the IRA more generally and includes the Official IRA from whom the Provisional IRA split in 1969. It includes an Irish language term for /Provisionals/, meaning the Provisional IRA, namely /na sealadaigh/. Its reinvention as a noun has been successful as it is now commonly used and quite widely understood.

Plate 21: ‘An Ghaeilge’, Falls Road, Belfast, c.1989 source: © Tony Crowley and with acknowledgement to the Claremont Colleges Digital Library

Plate 22: ‘Saoirse nó bás’, Carlisle Road, Belfast, c.1989 source: © Tony Crowley and with acknowledgement to the Claremont Colleges Digital Library

Perhaps the most striking symbol of the appropriation of the Irish language as a weapon of political violence is the ‘Tiocfaidh ar la 3’ mural from Springhill Park in Strabane (Plate 23; see colour plate section). This mural depicts an Armalite automatic rifle shaped from the slogan /Tiocfaidh ár lá/. Note that in order to accommodate the image some violence has been done to the language – the accents have disappeared, it ought to read /Tiocfaidh ár lá/. In addition, I would argue that this mural is very probably earlier than the 1993 date given by Rolston (this was when the photograph was taken) as a crude but unmistakeable, imitation of it appears in a mural constructed on Sevastapol

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 129

04/04/2012 16:17

130 Jailtacht

Street, Belfast in 1989 (Rolston, 1992: 38). We can be certain of the date of this mural as it was painted to mark twenty years of the long war – 1969 to 1989. Therefore, the Strabane mural was probably painted during the late 1980s. The motif has enjoyed an enduring appeal amongst Irish republicans. Sharon O’Neill noted in the broadly nationalist Belfast-based newspaper The Irish News (11 January 2005) that ‘In October 2003 Sinn Féin’s youth wing (Ogra Shinn Féin) came under criticism for distributing badges shaped as rifles at a freshers’ day event in Queen’s University Belfast Students’ Union’. One was an Armalite rifle fashioned into the republican slogan /Tiocfaidh Ar La/. The story was reported at the time by Maeve Connolly in The Irish News (3 October 2003) and included criticism by the Irish nationalist party the SDLP of the badge as ‘glorified violence’. Ogra Shinn Féin had no comment to make but the badge is no longer available for sale.

Plate 24: ‘Beidh an lá linn’, Rosnareen Road/Shaws Road, Belfast, c.1989, source: © Tony Crowley and with acknowledgement to the Claremont Colleges Digital Library

A series of bilingual and multilingual murals emerges in this period. These serve to contextualise the Irish language as a part of the Irish republican struggle in international terms. The muralists take conflicts with which they are familiar, such as those of Cuba, the Basque Country and Catalonia, and draw out the language dimension of those situations. An early example is the ‘Beidh an lá linn’ mural from Rosnareen Road/Shaws Road in Belfast (Plate 24). This mural is very similar in style to Plate 7, also from Shaw’s Road but dating to around 1983, and while the photograph was taken in 1983 the mural itself may well be earlier. The text is bilingual, Spanish and Irish. The Spanish slogan /Venceremos/ comes from the Cuban revolution of the 1960s and means /We shall overcome/ or /We shall conquer/. It was popularised in Irish republican circles through the writings of Bobby Sands. But while Bobby Sands would use /Tiocfaidh ár lá/ to mean /Venceremos/, the muralist has used the more grammatically acceptable /Beidh an lá linn/, meaning /The day shall be ours/.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 130

04/04/2012 16:17

visual grammar 131

The variable linguistic competency of the muralists is reflected in other murals, such as the one photographed by Rolston in Rosnareen Avenue in Belfast around 1992 (Rolston, 1995: 31). This mural carries a very obvious Irish language typographical error. The mistake is repeated without remark by Rolston in his text. Quite simply, the word /croimhlint/, meaning /conflict/, should be spelt /choimhlint/. This is most probably the result of a misreading on the part of the muralist of /choimhlint/, whereby /r/ wrongly replaces /h/. The muralist is not fluent in Irish, although someone clearly had an Irish language input at some stage of the mural design. Whoever this was, he or she was probably fairly competent in Irish as the precise construction /choimhlint/ indicates an understanding that the complete slogan /Dhá chine. Aon choimhlint/ (Two people. One conflict) requires the aspiration (séimhiú is the grammatical term in Irish) of the two nouns /cine/ and /coimhlint/ by the cardinal numbers ‘two’ and ‘one’ whereby the initial consonant of the noun is followed by an inserted /h/. The Basque language text in the mural uses the name for the Basque Country /Euskadi/ as the equivalent to /Ireland/ and the slogan /Bi herri. Borroka bat/ meaning /Two People. One conflict/. Given this insight into the linguistic sophistication of those behind the multilingual murals, two things can be said at this point – an influential group of very competent Irish-speakers had emerged amongst Irish republicans at this stage and the Irish language formed a very substantial part of the Irish republican linguistic landscape. Resources, 1993–2008 The final paradigm shift occurs sometime around 1993. It was at this time that the Irish republican movement embarked upon the secret talks which eventually led to political agreement in 1998 in Northern Ireland, although most of the general public were entirely ignorant of the fact. The changing nature of the murals at the same time offers a certain insight into the dynamics of these events. The use of the Irish language in the murals becomes much more sophisticated and more prominent as an item in its own right. Some murals provide a narrative about the emergence of the language as a political issue, claiming the H-Blocks as a starting point. This story is by now is aimed at a much wider audience that includes tourists. The power of the murals to shape political discourse remains undimmed and it is for this reason that the government becomes by proxy a major sponsor of alternative murals during this period. A recent major social attitudes survey (Brown and McGinty, 2003) shows that attitudes to the public display of political symbols have become more, not less, polarised in the period after the signing of the Agreement in 1998. This suggests that the ‘culture war’, identified in the early 1990s by some commentators (e.g. Miller, 1994) as a potentially significant political issue, entered the realm of the public imagination at that stage. The creation in 1993 of two

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 131

04/04/2012 16:17

132 Jailtacht

groups involved in the construction of murals marks it out as a watershed. In Belfast the Community Arts Forum (CAF) was founded in January and in Derry the group called the Bogside Artists was created. These groups directly contribute to the increasing sanitisation of the images of political violence in murals and to their commodification for the non-partisan voyeur – the tourist. The first ‘non-political’ mural to be constructed in west Belfast is claimed by the artist Rosie McGurran (pers. comm. 2 March 2009) who worked on a number of murals in the area between 1993 (she graduated from the University of Ulster in 1992) and 1997 (she accepted a British School in Rome residency in 1997). McGurran remarked in an interview in The Irish Times (White, 1996) of the other more common murals of that period that ‘we’re sick of sunglasses and balaclavas’. Of course, it is the case that there had already been a previous, and unsuccessful, campaign by the British government via the Department of the Environment to sponsor ‘non-political’ murals in different parts of Northern Ireland from around the middle part of the 1970s through to the early 1980s (Watson, 1983). I recall seeing at that time a mural of a love letter, popularly known as the French letter, on the gable wall of the Mourne Bar at the bottom of Orchard Street in Derry. This time around, the political context was very different and the government-sponsored intervention had greater impact. Some compromises had been made and the government had been promiscuous in its support. The Arts Council in Northern Ireland even sponsored Gerard ‘Mo Chara’ Kelly to undertake some work in 2001 (http://www.artscouncil-ni.org/ departs/creative/public_art/Arts%20Council%20handbook%20pt2of2.pdf, accessed 26 February 2009). Other organisations, new to the genre, entered the fray during this period and their murals are very much the product of this new political context. In this context, the function of the Irish language in this new generation of murals was quite clear to the artists, as Rosie McGurran, for example, asserts: ‘The use of the Irish language for me was a way of integrating the work into the community, particularly in nationalist areas […] The use of the Irish language worked on a few levels; it identified with the community as there is a lot of respect for the language and there are many Irish-speaking schools in west Belfast; it was also less likely that your work would be vandalised for some reason. The language rightly or wrongly signifies ownership in the Nationalist community’ (pers. comm. 3 March 2009). This series of three murals exemplifies the place of the Irish language very well (Plates 25–7). The first is one of many murals constructed during 1995 to commemorate the Great Irish Famine of 1845–52 (Plate 25; see colour plate section). The ‘An Gorta Mór’ mural on Ardoyne Avenue in Belfast was commissioned by the Ardoyne Art and Environment Project. To the casual viewer, political violence is absent, but for the more informed reader it is implicit in the imagery. The plough which rests in the foreground in the front of the

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 132

04/04/2012 16:17

visual grammar 133

Plate 27: ‘Labhair an teanga Ghaeilge liom’, Ardoyne Avenue, Belfast, c.1995, source: http://peacelinetours.g2gm.com/reviews/mural.jpg (accessed 12 April 2008)

mural is symbolic of the starry plough of the 1916 Irish republicans. The line of poetry appropriated from Seamus Heaney (despite Irish republican criticism of Heaney’s ‘lack of commitment’) explains the connection between the historical famine and the emergence of political violence against the British state in Ireland. The central image of the mural has been appropriated from the Illustrated London News wood engraving of a post-famine eviction, entitled ‘The Ejectment’ (http://www.ibiblio.org/fiddlers/eviction.jpg, accessed 8 January 2009). The image has been reproduced in countless other texts, including the most widely used school history set books. This mural has previously been widely advertised as a highlight of ‘struggle tourism’ visits to the former battlegrounds of Belfast (Lisle, 2006; Brouillette, various) but it was recently replaced on the Peace Line Tours website by a different ‘famine’ mural entitled ‘An tOcras Mór – the Great Hunger (http://www.peacelinetours.co.uk/murals. html, accessed 25 June 2009). From the point of view of language, the English language spelling mistake, /emmigration/, in the ‘An Gorta Mór’ mural (Plate 26) reminds us we ought not expect linguistic perfection in these texts, whether English or Irish. Moreover, the work is crowned by the Irish language title /An Gorta Mór/. The mural ‘The Mass Rock’ (Plate 26; see colour plate section) is similarly appropriated, this time from a very popular early twentieth century image known as ‘The Alarm’ (Donnelly, 2004). While crowned by an English title, below it is an Irish language inscription which reads /Is í an charraig seo ionad adhartha ar n-áithreacha áit ar cothaíodh an creideamh do na glúnta a bhí le teacht/ (This rock was the place of worship of our fathers, the place where our faith was sustained for the generations to come). The third mural, entitled /Labhair an teanga Ghaeilge liom/ (Speak to me in Irish), also comes from Ardoyne Avenue in Belfast from 1995 (Plate 27). It too incorporates an image that is appropriated from a popularly reproduced nineteenth

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 133

04/04/2012 16:17

134 Jailtacht

century engraving called ‘a hedge schoolmaster and his pupils’ (http://www. castlebar.ie/education/boholans/schoolhistory.htm, accessed 8 January 2009). The common theme of this series of murals is the ‘fact’ of past historical repression and the contemporary ‘reality’ of the same threat, and central to any effective resistance to that danger is the Irish language. However, they are also typical of a new generation of mural which is less explicitly political. This sanitisation led to some expressing concern that the more political murals were being replaced and somehow lost, while others argued that they ought to be destroyed as they were ‘ugly propagandist graffiti’ (Fonebone, 2007). A particular online discussion elicited this trenchant response from Gerard ‘Mo Chara’ Kelly: Mo chara March 3rd, 2008 at 4:26 am I am one of the mural artists and i am very proud of the work that i have done to highlight (British terrorism) in Ireland for the past 800 years ,The British terrorist Goverment introduced the violence into our country and used every form of terrorism to silence anyone who stood up to them,, the murals are one way to expose British murder in Ireland and i think that the job is not over yet, i encourage all artists to ex pose the illegal occupation of our country .The artist must take the lead to expose (British misrule ) in Ireland. SlAN Gerard (Mo chara) Kelly

Then, another correspondent made this post in classic jailic: darragh o haodha January 18th, 2009 at 1:21 pm Tíocfaidh ár lá (http://weburbanist.com/2007/08/03/beyond-the-troubles-muralsof-belfast-northern-ireland/, accessed 1 April 2009).

More recently, since 2009 the Arts Council has been funding ‘non-sectarian’ murals under a new initiative entitled Re-imagining Communities. According to the Arts Council, the project is one ‘that helps communities to replace aggressive, sectarian images with art. Communities are encouraged to apply for funding and work with professional artists to replace existing paramilitary murals and other items with more positive imagery’ (http://www.artscouncil-ni. org/artforms/communityarts.htm, accessed 26 February 2009). According to some commentators this marks the emergence of an inclusive and universal

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 134

04/04/2012 16:17

visual grammar 135

type of public art: ‘a new generation of NI artists have begun to reclaim the walls that separate, inviting all communities and ethnicities to celebrate the universal aspects of NI culture, presenting a contemporary vision of a society reborn’ (Henry, 2009). An online dialogue between two of the artists engaged in this re-imagining illustrates the premise of their mission. The language of division, imposition and misrepresentation that they ascribe to the murals sits in stark contrast to accounts from within the communities themselves at the time at which the murals were being made. Their critique of the political murals says much more about their own values than about those of the muralists: Spain and Northern Ireland are renowned internationally for their murals. New Belfast Community Arts Initiative and Programa Pintamuro have a track record using the mural to address and challenge social and community issues, and encourage participation in art. In the build-up to the conference New Belfast’s Conor Shields and Programa Pintamuro’s Antoni Gabarre Gonzales talked about the fine art of the mural … Conor Shields posts on 9/09/05 … As you know New Belfast Community Arts Initiative tries to positively makeover existing paramilitary murals and bring them more into a community context. The key to all this is participation … to look for more universal themes as a way of bridging division … The work we are carrying out is trying to re-imagine mostly paramilitary murals or graffiti … In Belfast murals have transformed areas where Protestants and Catholics live into Protestant and Catholic areas. There has been, over the last thirty years, a branding of areas through the making of murals, which have almost given substance to the more shady presence that exists within a community … When something is imposed on someone, like a piece of art in the middle of your town or on the end of a wall – these are things which you have no control over … The mural [i.e. his CAF murals] acts as a social conduit for people to participate, for people to gain a sense of place, to express themselves through professionally facilitated means and to rebrand themselves and their area in a more positive view that actually represents what is going on in their communities – rather than what has been imprinted on them. Not just by paramilitary groups, but also by the traditions and political whims of a particular time and place that may be no longer representative of their community’s aspirations … we are trying to take what has been seen as traditional mural-making here and give it a more outward-looking, externalised context. We want every muralist to approach a wall and think, not about sending a message back into their own community, but about sending a positive message from one community to another (http://www.caf.ie/blog/entry. asp?ENTRY_ID=11, accessed 1 April 2009).

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 135

04/04/2012 16:17

136 Jailtacht

Muralists committed to Irish republican values continue to prosper in this new terrain. Danny Devenny, an ex-Irish republican prisoner and well-known muralist, explains this to be in part because ‘The republican movement is part of the Establishment now’ (Quoted in Cook, 2000). Danny Devenny regularly works with non-Irish republican muralists and is obviously aware of the tourist value of murals (Cole, 2009; Henry, 2007) but he retains a rather unproblematic view of the politics of the murals. He variously asserts, for example, that ‘the murals reflect the mood and political consciousness of our community’ (Quoted in Cole, 2009), and, elsewhere, that ‘In my community, the walls were used to deal with issues that no-one else would focus on. And basically the images you see on our walls reflected the feelings within our communities. That’s what we were doing. We were vehicles for fear or anger or frustration within our communities’ (Quoted in Aljazeera, 2007). Danny Devenny is right with regard to ‘the Establishment’ but he is being too simplistic in seeing the images on the walls as mere reflections. A close reading of the Irish language on these walls reveals certain tensions at play. This blog entry and its appended comment on the subject is a clear illustration of that: The West Belfast Irish language group, An Nasc, which I chair will get £50,000 towards the cost of a work of art on the Falls celebrating the Irish language but I hope more money will drop into the kitty between now and the end of July to enable us to do a substantial and memorable piece. As the Arts Council press statement puts it: ‘West Belfast-based An Nasc has also received an award of £50,000 for a piece of public art that will celebrate the Irish language and its shared roots in Irish heritage. The physical presence of this artwork aims to build community confidence and reinforce the Irish language as a rich cultural asset within local economic and social regeneration.’ POSTED BY MÁIRTÍN Ó MUILLEOIR AT 12:23 PM 1 COMMENTS: cut the crap said … hope that 50 grand doesn’t cost some Irish language group in Belfast a couple of jobs.There is not one Irish Language amateur dramatic group in Belfast, nor an Irish language youth club dedicated to the arts yet £50,000 is going to be spent on some inanimate piece of sculpture. Somebody has got their priorities mixed up. 5:19 PM (Ó Muilleoir, http://apublishersblog.blogspot.com/2008/03/upagainst-wall.html, accessed 4 May 2009)

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 136

04/04/2012 16:17

visual grammar 137

This may be read as a tension between rhetoric and action, between saying and doing. The nub of the matter is the cost of the mural, not the investment in the construction of a mural on the Irish language. The ‘Saoirse’ mural (Plates 28 and 29; see colour plate section), for example, convinces us of that. This mural was constructed in the New Lodge area of Belfast sometime after 1994 by an organisation named Saoirse that was established in 1994 to lobby on behalf of Irish republican prisoners. Thus, the term /saoirse/, which was common as a slogan in Irish republican language during the 1980s, now takes on much more specific meaning. The mural comprises multiple images that set out to tell the story of Irish republican prisoners. It includes an image of hands bound at the wrists by barbed wire, a motif which is derived from a very early mural dating to around 1981 – an indication of the development of a sense of aesthetic tradition or history. More pertinent to our examination of the Irish language is the image, in the top corner of the mural, of a prisoner writing an Irish lesson on his cell wall (Plate 28). The detail (Plate 29) shows the prisoner conjugating the verb ‘to be’ in Irish: Tá mé Tá tú Tá s.

The grammar is imperfect – the accents for /á/ in /tá/ are absent and the Gaelic font is used only for the letter /a/ i.e. /a/. But this is as likely to be the fault of the muralist as of the prisoner. That the image very closely resembles the imagery of the 1980s television documentary made about the H-Blocks lends a sense of authenticity to the action. This detail is hugely significant and its meaning is entirely about exactly how the language was acquired by the prisoners. The circumstances are the crux of the matter. The use of Irish language personal names becomes increasingly differentiated in this period. For example, in a mural entitled ‘94 Saoirse 94’ that appeared on a wall in Almond Close in the Twinbrook area of Belfast during 1994 (Rolston, 1995: 47) the names of Irish republican prisoners are listed. Amongst them are ‘Sid Walsh’ (aka Séanna Breathnach) and ‘Féilim Ó hAdhmaill’. The use of the Irish language version for the latter but not the former would suggest contrasting personal linguistic identities at that time. Indeed, the use of the Irish versions of personal names appears to denote Irish-speaking prisoners from around this point onwards. A mural by the IRPWA (Irish Republican Prisoners Welfare Action, a group with links to the 32 County Sovereignty Committee and the Continuity or Real IRA) on Whiterock Road in Belfast, dating to around 1996, also includes a list of prisoners. Of all of the names one, exceptionally, is in Irish – ‘Géaroid Mac Aoide’ (it should be ‘Gearóid’) from ‘Béal Feirste’. A blurred image of this mural, a photograph

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 137

04/04/2012 16:17

138 Jailtacht

taken by ‘Pól’, appears online in Ireland’s Own, an Irish republican journal (http://irelandsown.net/murals17.htm, accessed 1 March 2008). The ‘Loch gCál’ mural (Plate 16; see colour plate section), in which all of the IRA men are given the Irish versions of their names, makes an entirely different linguistic point altogether.

Plate 30: ‘Pobal’, Falls Road, Belfast, c. 2002 source: © Tony Crowley and with acknowledgement to the Claremont Colleges Digital Library

Plate 31: ‘Labhair cibé Gaeilge atá agat’, 2007 source: indymedia http://www.indymedia.ie/article/82963

Plate 32: ‘Is fearr Gaeilge bhriste’, Belfast, 2007 source: ‘fionnchu’ http://fionnchu.blogspot.com/2007_12_01_archive.htm

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 138

04/04/2012 16:17

visual grammar 139

Subsequent to the Agreement of 1998, the Irish language became the subject of serious political campaigning and street protest and, once again, murals played a role in this development. The Irish language umbrella organisation Pobal became a significant sponsor of Irish language murals in this period and they are a new departure in their expansive use of sophisticated standard Irish (e.g. Plate 30). The language is the only issue that appears in these murals – political violence is entirely absent. Instead, the imagery is made up of stylised ecological metaphors. For example, a detail from the ‘Pobal’ mural includes a lengthy bilingual statement (Irish – English) outlining the need for a Human Rights Bill that addresses the needs of Irish-speakers. The background image in this case is a swirling whirlpool effect. Similarly, another mural promoting Pobal, not illustrated here, sets a row of quite ordinary (unarmed) language protesters against a highly colourful rainbow-style background. Most intriguingly this mural makes direct reference to ‘Northern Ireland’ (TÉ, meaning Tuaisceart Éireann). This is a term that Irish republicans would always avoid using because it implies the recognition of the political validity of the partition of the island of Ireland and an acceptance of the legitimate existence of Northern Ireland. The significance of the use of ‘TÉ’ here is underlined by the fact that I have yet to come across any other mural that is sympathetic to Irish republicanism (Pobal certainly is) which also uses either ‘NI’ or ‘Northern Ireland’ in anything other than a pejorative fashion. Clearly, the Irish language has allowed for a certain manner of expression that was not possible in the English language lexicon of Irish republicanism. The act of making the case for the Irish language has been punctuated by a number of public demonstrations. The most significant of these was shaped, in part at least, by the visual grammar of the language. The following extract from an Irish republican news outlet shows how: It was a busy weekend for Irish language activists in Belfast as a number of actions took place around Saturday’s march to demand an Irish Language Act for the Six Counties. On Thursday a large portion of the wall on the Whiterock Road was taken over and long sections covered by Irish language proverbs and slogans and an advertisement for the rally. This was followed on Friday evening as a group of language activists took to the Black Mountain to leave a message in support of the Irish Language Act, a message that would be visible to a large part of the city. Saturday was the rally in support of the Act with thousands, both young and old, native Irishspeakers, learners and supporters, taking to the streets for a rally from Cúlturlann Mc Adam Ó Fiaich on the Falls Road into Belfast city centre and Writers’ Square. The very colourful and festive rally was attended by around 3,000 people. So Irish-speakers have made their voices clear – they want a comprehensive, rights-based Irish

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 139

04/04/2012 16:17

140 Jailtacht Language Act. All that remains now is the response of Edwin Poots, the Assembly’s Minister for Culture, Arts and Leisure. (indymedia ireland saormheáin éireann, June 2007, http://www.indymedia.ie/ article/82963, accessed 1 February 2009).

The interplay of printed text, mural and graffiti is quite explicit and is central both to the manner in which the demonstration was brought together and to the means by which the political message was communicated by the language activists. The article is accompanied by a series of photographs showing the proverbs, the slogans and the Black Mountain message. One slogan (Plate 31) is an exhortation to speak whatever Irish we can – in this case, saying is doing. Adjacent to this on the same section of wall is the proverb /Is fearr Gaeilge briste ná Béarla cliste/ with an accompanying translation /Broken Irish is better than clever English/ (Plate 32). This material gives us an indication of the fragmentary linguistic competency of many of those to whom the graffito is addressed. The fluency of the Irish-speakers of Northern Ireland and the quality of the Irish they speak is often under attack by the political opponents of Irish republicanism and opponents of the politicisation of Irish by Sinn Féin and here we have a subtle sign of the sensitivity of Irish language activists to that charge. Indeed, it would appear that attempting to measure the numbers of Irish-speakers in the region continues to be perceived by some as a matter of political rather than statistical or linguistic judgement. One commentator was recently frustrated by the unwillingness of some journals to publish his work on this matter: ‘Deirtear liom ‘nach bhfuil sé ‘ar leas na Gaeilge’ […]’ (It was said to me that it wasn’t ‘beneficial to the Irish language’ […] (Ciarán Dunbar, pers. comm., 9 March 2009). The source of the ‘Is fearr Gaeilge briste’ image (Plate 32) is instructive. While a similar image appeared in the ‘indymedia’, this particular image is from the website of an Irish-American academic who writes in a vein that is generally sympathetic to Irish republicanism and committed to the Irish language. The production of the image in this context lends a different feel to the graffito than was originally intended by the graffitist. We know from ‘indymedia’ source that the graffito was produced immediately prior to the demonstration and that it was intended both to provide a meaningful backdrop to it and form a part of the post-event discourse. In contrast, ‘fionnchu’ gets the date of the demonstration wrong in his English language blog (it’s actually correct in his Irish language version) and for him the meaning of the graffito is much more general, applying to Irish learners wherever (Oideas Gael runs Irish language courses in Donegal in the Republic of Ireland). The appended comment, written anonymously, perfectly illustrates how the potential impact of such visual resources is enhanced by their mobility while, at the same time, alternative readings thereby arise:

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 140

04/04/2012 16:17

visual grammar 141 Saturday, December 29, 2007 Gaeilge graffiti: West Belfast [IMAGE APPEARS HERE] ‘Labhair cibé Gaeilge atá agat’ = Speak whatever Irish you’ve got. ‘Is fearr Gaeilge bhriste ná Béarla cliste’ = Broken Irish is better than clever English. I’d been looking for pictures of these slogans, after my last visit when I forgot to snap my own shots near this entrance to Ballymurphy from the Whiterock Road. They inspired me as a tired learner returning from a fortnight at Oideas Gael in Donegal. I came to see my friends after a long bus ride only to then trudge down the Falls Road. (I wasn’t able to flag a black taxi.) Ciarán Ó Brolcháin posted photos on the blog Indymedia /Saormheáin of the Six Counties Irish-language Act march from here to city center, and going up Black Mountain. A fine day! Monday 11 May 2007. [APPENDED COMMENT] Thats a good picture you have there of the Whiterock road. I haven’t seen that one in Irish. After a while they become part of the woodwork. Did you enjoy your stay here? I haven’t seen any in Irish anywhere else but if I see some I’ll forward them to you.

Nice blog BTW.

(http://fionnchu.blogspot.com/2007_12_01_archive.htm, accessed 25 June 2009)

The Irish language commonly appears in a new generation of murals that have international themes. These murals are quite distinctive in that they appear to be aimed at contextualising the Irish language internationally. For example, the use (Plate 33; see colour plate section) of /Tiocfaidh ár lá/ with ETA slogans and symbols, including /bietan jarrai/ (keep up/keep at it on both) is a reference to the bifurcated symbol of the snake (politics) wound around the axe (armed struggle). That the main body of the script has been transcribed by McCormick as /Borrokuruko dei eginuz irrintzi but dubil/ (http://cain.ulst. ac.uk/mccormick/album48.htm) but should probably read /Borrokarako dei eginaz, irrintzi bat dabil/ is a reflection of the specific, but not general, miscomprehension most viewers of this mural must feel when confronted by it. This text is a line from a Basque nationalistic folk song entitled ‘Batasuna’ (http:// eu.musikazblai.com/pantxo-eta-peio/batasuna/, 1 May 2009), meaning ‘unity’

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 141

04/04/2012 16:17

142 Jailtacht

but also the name of a Basque nationalist party (banned in 2003), derived from Herri Batasuna (Unity of the people/The people united) itself founded in 1978. The line from the song may be translated as follows: ‘irrintzi is heard calling to [the] fight’. The word /irrintzi/ means the traditional Basque mountain call or cry. It is a very difficult word to translate but it is defined by Basque expert Trask as follows: ‘The traditional Basque mountain cry, a ululation characterised by a rising pitch and concluded with a kind of demented laugh. It was formerly used for calling in the mountains; today it is most commonly heard at festivals. The word is probably of imitative origin’ (http://www.buber.net/Basque/Euskara/ Larry/WebSite/basque.words.html, accessed 1 May 2009). Also, /irrintzi/ is the adopted name of a violent Basque nationalist organisation formed in Bayonne in France in 2006. The McCormick photograph was taken in 2002 and the mural is certainly earlier than that. Other Basque murals are very common and carry various slogans. I ought to emphasise that most, if not all, of the groups represented are internationally proscribed as terrorist organisations. It could be argued that Irish republicanism benefits from the radical cachet associated with such politics, while on the other hand the proscribed groups benefit from the publicity and the internationalisation of support for them. Images of the murals are often used in propaganda material in both Ireland and abroad, but it is significant that in the case of a mural dominated by the Basque word ‘Askatasuna’ (an image of the mural is reproduced in An Phoblacht, http:// www.anphoblacht.com/other/2008-05-15, 15 May 2008) the organisation is not named in the article for which the mural is a backdrop and the representatives of the unnamed Basque youth organisation who are captured posing in front of the mural are themselves anonymised in the text of An Phoblacht. However, it is not unreasonable to infer that that Basque word ‘Askatasuna’, meaning ‘freedom’, is actually a reference to the political party of the same name formed in 1998 but subsequently banned in 2009. According to Rolston (2009: 459) the Basque murals relate to Sinn Féin’s efforts during the late 1990s to persuade Herri Batasuna to construct a political process in the Basque Country similar to that in Northern Ireland. If that is indeed the case then one might well assume that this work begun in the 1990s is ongoing, as Basque-themed murals are commonly constructed after that. See, for example, the image of a mural celebrating the radical youth group SEGI reproduced at Ógra Shinn Féin blogspot (http://ograshinnfein.blogspot.com/2007_07_01_archive.html, 1 July 2007). The date of the article and, hence, the construction of the mural at that time, appears to be significant as it was during 2007 that the European Court of Justice upheld the earlier listing of SEGI as a proscribed organisation by the French and Spanish governments in 2002. Other radical, and even terrorist groups, are represented by their languages but, as with Basque, these resources are clearly not meant to be

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 142

04/04/2012 16:17

visual grammar 143

entirely understood by locals. For example, the ‘Palestine’ mural on the socalled ‘international wall’ in Belfast includes Arabic script (an image of the mural can be viewed at http://lh5.ggpht.com/_d4dgnLRi4lw/RwWBr2UIU1I/ AAAAAAAAAIQ/l5RtsxTVqdo/BFS-NI-WB-010.JPG). This mural comprises a right hand superimposed on the Palestinian flag and crowned with the word ‘Palestine’ in Arabic. The wrist of the hand is overwritten by the slogan ‘Our day will come’ in Arabic. The middle panel includes an Arabic slogan that reads ‘Boycott Israeli products’. On the other panel a left hand is superimposed on the Irish flag and crowned by ‘Ireland’ in Arabic. In this case the wrist is overwritten with the slogan ‘Our day will come’ in the Irish language (Translations from Arabic by Sonia Benghida). The precise impact of these murals upon radical audiences outside the Irish republican movement is difficult to ascertain but, using Internet sources, I have been able to trace Catalan, as opposed to Irish republican, impressions of one mural (it is a rather unremarkable mural but an image of it can be viewed at http://ograshinnfein.blogspot.com/2007_07_01_archive.html, 1 July 2007). As portable images, murals appear to travel quite rapidly and extensively via the Internet. The very accessibility of the Internet that is attractive to political activists also makes it a profitable source of data for researchers. The earliest Catalan reference to this mural dates from 2005. The blog has links to the Catalan Solidarity: Ireland Committee (http://www.irlnet.com/saoirse) and the Free Catalonia movement (http:// www.freecatalonia.com). The post, by ‘claudifito’ in a Catalan blog on 7 April 2005, records a visit to the Short Strand and other unnamed areas of Belfast. At the first site, ‘claudifito’ and friends come across and take photographs of ‘Uns murals magnífics on hi havia una estelada gegant i on posava: Llibertat pels Països Catalans’ (A magnificent mural of the estelada [unoffical Catalan flag] accompanied by Llibertat pels Països Catalans), and at the second site, whilst accompanied by some members of Sinn Féin, they: ‘vam veure els nombrosos murals que hi ha. (En Pep tard o aviat penjarà les fotos i podreu veure l’art dels murals polítics, vaig poder veure fins a 3 murals que feien referència als Països Catalans) (‘we saw several murals there (Sooner or later, Pep will post the photos so that you can see the art of these political murals, I could see up to 3 murals which refered to the Països Catalans)) (‘claudifito’, 2005). This mural is also employed as a resource on several other sites which are broadly sympathetic to the causes of Catalan nationalism and Irish republicanism: a Catalan blog on Catalan political murals (http://es.geocities.com/poblesmundo/ ppcc_murals.htm); a Catalan entry in Wikipedia about the city of Belfast (http://ca.wikipedia.org/wiki/Belfast); a Catalan entry in Flickr entitled ‘catalanes in Belfast’ (http://www.flickr.com/photos/71434677@N00/2378616752/); an Occitan entry in Wikipedia about Catalan nationalism (http://oc.wikipedia. org/wiki/Independentisme_catalan); and, in an online publication by Ógra

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 143

04/04/2012 16:17

144 Jailtacht

Shinn Fhéin noting the visiting of one of their representatives to the annual conference of a Catalan nationalist organisation in Catalonia in 2007 (http:// ograshinnfein.blogspot.com/2007_07_01_archive.html). A few choice extracts from the text of the speech given illustrate how language (specifically Irish, Catalan and Jailic) semiotic resource and performance are brought into play in relation to each other: Bona tarda jovent dels Paisos Catalans (Good afternoon, youth of Catalonia). Friends and comrades, […] I leave you with an Irish phrase, made famous by Irish Hunger Striker Bobby Sands in a secret diary he kept for the first 17 days of his 66 day Hunger Strike. ‘Tiocfaidh Ár Lá!’ Independencia i Socialisme! La Lluita Continua! (Independence and Socialism! The Struggle Continues!) (McGibbon, 2007).

In addition, some new Catalan-themed murals, carrying Irish language slogans (‘Saoirse’ in Derry example and ‘Tiocfaidh ár lá’ in Belfast example), were constructed during 2007 as a part of an Irish republican campaign to celebrate international struggles. These immediately appear in Irish republican sources (e.g. http://catalansolidarity.blogspot.com/2007/09/west-belfast-catalan-mural. html) and they subsequently appear in a variety of Catalan sources (e.g. http://delaguard.blogspot.com/2008_06_01_archive.html; http://es.geocities. com/poblesmundo/ppcc_mural_belfast.jpg; http://www.racocatala.cat/forums/ fil/68834?300-anys-mural-solidaritat-pintat-derry; http://koktelkontrainformatiu. blogspot.com/2008_05_01_archive.html; http://www.directe.cat/article?10-anysde-pau-a-irlanda-6681; http://folguerata.blogspot.com/2008/08/fotoxop.html; http://www.fotre.cat/2008/02/les-jerpv-de-sueca-reclamen-ilhabilitcai.html, all accessed 1 July 2009). Such murals are, for some actors, an important part of the increasingly rapid population of the Internet by less globally dominant languages and their related cultures and alternative politics. The contrast between this function of the new generation of Irish republican murals and those constructed during the early 1980s is most marked. While the response of ‘claudifito’ was positive, the accounts of other international experiences are less effusive. This circumspection, however, serves to indicate the extent to which the genre of the mural had become a highly developed and carefully managed semiotic resource of considerable political sensitivity. The Mexican muralist Rubén Ortiz Torres travelled to

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 144

04/04/2012 16:17

visual grammar 145

Belfast in 1992 on a research trip, having accepted an invitation to construct a mural there. He contends that, initially, he was not keen to do the mural as ‘these activities are normally presented as social work and tend not to be taken seriously as art’. Also, apparently other tensions subsequently arose. The chosen theme was the support of John O’Reilly and the St Patrick’s Battalion for the Emiliano Zapata revolution in Mexico during 1910 and the mural carries a Spanish language inscription that reads ‘Zapata vive. La lucha sigue’ (Zapata lives. The fight continues). But Torres claims that he found the Irish republicans rather forceful in their guidance: ‘there was no other way than their own’ (http://rubenortiztorres.org/for_the_record/labels/Ireland.html, accessed 14 April 2009). From his blog entry it is clear that he wanted to throw paint deliberately on the mural, in the style of a paint bomb, but that he was advised by local Irish republicans (he subsequently names Gerard Kelly) that such an action would probably be misinterpreted as a deliberate and successful act of destruction by others. Conclusions The Irish language has been an enormously dynamic element of Irish republican murals from the outset. In the context of this genre, the language emerges and evolves through three distinctive historical periods, viz. 1981–6, 1987–92, and 1993–2008. The paradigm shifts that define these periods are in large part moulded by step-changes in the relationship between the Irish republican movement and the Irish language. Irish, as the peculiar language of Irish republican (ex)prisoners, enters the public domain via murals. In this early stage, the language takes the form of single keywords, slogans, and discrete iconic texts, usually in the style of the traditional Gaelic font. It often includes a variety of language errors and very little of it is translated or offered bilingually. These works show the Irish language as a derivative and subservient ideological resource. The shift to the second period which occurs around 1987 shows the language being adopted as the cultural equivalent to the armed struggle – /Tiocfaidh ár lá/ is an Armalite. In this context, the language is presented in an increasingly functionalised manner. The Roman as opposed to Gaelic font is much more commonly used, thereby presenting the language in a modernised linguistic form. Irish language street names, often incorporated in murals, become commonplace. A self-aware effort is made to produce standard forms of Irish, as the introduction of /beidh ár lá linn/ in addition to /tiocfaidh ár lá/ bears witness. The application of language rules to the use of Irish in the genre becomes an important, yet implicit, domain of knowledge or competence amongst the muralists. The final shift, beginning in 1993, sees the language defining its own space in the genre. Much of the language is of standard form, but the distinctive Irish of the north is self-confident to the extent that it now

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 145

04/04/2012 16:17

146 Jailtacht

writes its own history, with the peculiar acquisition of Irish in prison as a defining moment. To know that /tiocfaidh ár lá/ is wrong but to assert the right to use it and be unambiguously understood is to make a substantial statement about what language means and about how to give meaning to language – saying is doing.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 146

04/04/2012 16:17

Plate 6: Hunger-strikers’ gravestone, 1981 source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Mcelwee_grave.jpg

Plate 16: ‘Loch gCál’, Springhill Avenue, Belfast, 1987 source: © Tony Crowley and with acknowledgement to the Claremont Colleges Digital Library

Plate 23: ‘Tiocfaidh ar la 3’, Springhill Park, Strabane, c.1993 source: Rolston, 1995: 21

4-Jailtacht picture section.indd 1

04/04/2012 16:21

Plate 25: ‘An Gorta Mór’, Ardoyne Avenue, Belfast, c.1995 source: Donnelly pers.comm.

4-Jailtacht picture section.indd 2

04/04/2012 16:21

Plate 26: ‘The Mass Rock’, Ardoyne Avenue, Belfast, c.1995 source: Donnelly pers.comm.

Plate 28: ‘Saoirse 1’, New Lodge Road, Belfast, c.1997 source: © Tony Crowley and with acknowledgement to the Claremont Colleges Digital Library

4-Jailtacht picture section.indd 3

04/04/2012 16:21

Plate 29: ‘Saoirse 2’, New Lodge Road, Belfast, c.1997 source: © Tony Crowley and with acknowledgement to the Claremont Colleges Digital Library

Plate 33: ‘Borrokarako’, Belfast source: http://farm1.static.flickr.com/197/476033519_021dd9db7f.jpg?v=0

4-Jailtacht picture section.indd 4

04/04/2012 16:21

6 Ideology KING: … He has chosen death: Refusing to eat or drink, that he may bring Disgrace upon me; for there is a custom, An old and foolish custom, that if a man Be wronged, or think that he is wronged, and starve Upon another’s threshold till he die, The Common People, for all time to come, Will raise a heavy cry against that threshold, Even though it be the King’s. – The King’s Threshold, by W. B. Yeats1

Introduction To understand the ideological significance of the Irish language in the conflict in NI it is not sufficient to ask political actors for their views on the issue. No doubt such questions have a value, in that they make it possible to create a description of the way in which a set of politically committed individuals look upon the language matter.2 However, the explanatory capacity of such studies is severely limited by their approach. There is a simple reason for this. Without exception, the authors of ideological perspectives are very determined to present their positions as based on rational principles but they are also intended to be a persuasive call to politically motivated action. At the same time the relativistic nature of ideology is disguised – it is, of course, very often shaped by political opportunism and even contradiction. The meta-ideological approach I adopt here does not accept ideology as presented by the political actors but seeks out a more subtle reading. This involves the study of a wide range of sources – texts and utterances by a variety of actors from very many contexts. Running through my analysis of this material are the dominant political discourses at work in the conflict, namely republicanism and nationalism, and loyalism and unionism. Anyone familiar with the conflict in NI will recognise them immediately as they are most certainly not new, but I do not foreground these discourses. Instead, I identify a series of linguistic moments or events through which the ideological meaning and operation of the Irish language is illuminated. And as you can see, there is no tidy or absolute congruence between the language and any given ideological position. Rather, Irish is the subject of persistent ideological speculation and innovation, a constantly

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 147

04/04/2012 16:17

148 Jailtacht

shifting kaleidoscope – and in that context Jailic style is both an artifice as well as a device. Fianna Fáil Gaelic and Sinn Féin Irish It is misleadingly simple to assert that the Irish language is often deployed in a symbolic manner for the purposes of Irish republicanism and nationalism, in opposition to loyalism and unionism. Rather, the language is the subject of contestation within the sphere of Irish republican and nationalist political ideas. I can refer to several specific events which reveal this conflicted function. The notion of ‘Fianna Fáil Gaelic’ is only presented to us, as far as I know, by a former loyalist prisoner. He uses the term in a piece describing how he came to learn the Irish language from some Irish republican prisoners in the Cages during the 1970s: By that time the authorities realised that I was serious about learning the language, so they agreed to have an Irish language teacher come into the compound to teach Irish. And then the strangest of things happened. The republican prisoners barred the teacher from their compound because they said that he was teaching Fianna Fáil Gaelic. We had the oddest of situations in that we had an Irish language teacher coming into the loyalist compounds, but he wasn’t allowed into the republicans. And of course, I had a problem because I was learning from both a learned republican prisoner, and the Irish language teacher, and one would say that that was wrong, and the other would say that this was wrong. Basically that’s the way we proceeded. The Irish language teacher continued to teach in the compounds to a reasonably sized class of loyalist prisoners. However, later on that year he discontinued teaching in Long Kesh. I can assure you it wasn’t because of the loyalist prisoners … The next thing that happened was the fire in Long Kesh. At that time the republican prisoners had burnt it down, and we were completely segregated and isolated from them. So anything that we had achieved in terms of the Irish language was completely finished because of the fire. It had ended due to the circumstances rather than us not wanting to continue.3

What might ‘Fianna Fáil Gaelic’ mean? If we accept the veracity of Smith’s story then the term is quite provocative in a number of ways. Fianna Fáil is the dominant political party of the Republic of Ireland. It was founded in 1926 by Éamonn de Valera from the hard-line anti-treaty rump of the IRA, defeated in the Irish civil war that followed the Anglo-Irish Treaty of 1921. Yet, despite this history, when in government Fianna Fáil banned the IRA, in 1936, and imprisoned members of the now proscribed organisation during the 1940s. When

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 148

04/04/2012 16:17

Ideology 149

the IRA re-emerged in NI during the 1970s they viewed Fianna Fáil with some suspicion. The use of the term ‘Fianna Fáil Gaelic’ thereby differentiates, in linguistic terms, between the Irish republicanism of the early twentieth century, undermined by compromise in the minds of the new generation of northern Irish republicans, and that of the late twentieth century. The word ‘Gaelic’ is revealing in a quite different manner. It means ‘the Irish language’ but, by now, it is usually employed by non-Irish-speakers. We cannot doubt the authenticity of Smith’s application of the term in this regard as several sources can be easily referred to in order to confirm that the Irish republican prisoners certainly used ‘Gaelic’ to mean ‘Irish’, and to a certain extent continue to do so. In this context the use of the term ‘Fianna Fáil Gaelic’ has certain other connotations. The following excerpt from an interview conducted by Feldman with a former IRA prisoner illustrates what these are: The Gaelic we were learning, we spoke with our natural accents, which is rough. This woman after the protest was over came up from the Free State; she was the first Gaelic news reader on RTE (staterun television). She had a terrible elitist attitude toward the language. She once said to me, ‘When I hear the Gaelic spoken here in the Blocks it makes me shudder.’ I said, ‘When you hear the Gaelic in here you’re hearing it as a living language. It’s spoken and evolving in a natural environment. Your Gaelic is put in a glass cage as a showpiece. We have a living language. Yours is an artificial thing. For you it’s an academic achievement, while for us it’s something that lives, and that comes from our day-to-day situation.4

For the prisoners their Irish was linguistically authentic, egalitarian and politically engaged. Its authenticity is in the prisoners’ ‘rough’ and ‘natural accents’. Its egalitarian nature is found in this prisoner’s critique of the ‘elitist attitude’ and ‘academic achievement’ of the journalist. The political engagement is realised in its use as ‘a living language’, arising from their ‘day-to-day situation’, something which is contrasted with the tokenistic attitude towards the language in the Republic of Ireland where it is ‘a showpiece’ in a ‘glass cage’ and ‘an artificial thing’. The nature of prisoners’ defence of their form of Irish constitutes a trenchant criticism of the language and politics of the Republic of Ireland and this is expressed through the linguistic peculiarities of the Irish language of the republican prisoners, a form of language which is familiar to us as Jailic style. The idea of ‘Sinn Féin Irish’ is the invention of others. Many commentators directly equate the Irish republican party Sinn Féin with something they describe as Jailic or ‘Jailtacht Irish’,5 or sometimes ‘Belfast Gaelic’.6 From them the language has been politicised by Sinn Féin, for example:

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 149

04/04/2012 16:17

150 Jailtacht

Much of it is Jailtacht Irish – that is the Irish that they learnt in prison. Sinn Féin as a party is not particularly any more friendly to Irish than are other Nationalist parties – they have used it as a means to an end – ensuring that is highlighting the differences between the native population (however you define that) and British.7

Many of these linguistic commentators, often amateurs, have drawn attention to the eccentricities of this form of Irish. Many discussions on the topic have recently taken place online and some of these have been quite lengthy, such as that initiated by ‘Cionadh’ in 2006,8 as a part of a Yahoo UK and Ireland discussion group named Ulster Irish Study, who enquired as to whether Jailic ought to be considered a dialect. Others get straight to the point. For example, ‘Róman’ in response to a query from ‘Antaine’ on the largely North American blog argues that: ‘What is now spreading in Béal Féirste [sic] is in essence a bad copy of Dún na nGall’s Irish. […] the rule in Irish was to use mutation in this situation. The error is NOT to use any mutation. And some in “Jailtacht” don’t. This IS a mistake’.9 Similarly, ‘An Treasach’ in an online conversation ‘Barnaí a & b’ on the blog takes Jailic to task: ‘Well said Barnaí, tiocfaidh ár lá was made popular through Jailic (a term used for Irish that was learned (badly) in jail) and it’s not good Irish at all’.10 Perhaps the highest profile of such discussions centred upon an interview given by Máire Killoran of the Irish language television broadcasting fund for NI to Éamonn Ó Dónaill in the Donegal-based online Irish language newspaper Beo.11 In the article the interviewer notes: ‘Cuireann an caighdéan Gaeilge atá ag cuid de bhunadh Bhéal Feirste isteach uirthi fosta’ (The standard of the Irish of some of those from Belfast annoys her as well). She is quoted as having said the following: Déarfadh pobal na Gaeilge in iarthar Bhéal Feirste nach raibh baint agam riamh leo ó thainig mé anseo! Tugann cuid acu ‘snob na Gaeilge orm’! Bíonn siadsan ag rá nach féidir leo mé a thuiscint ach sílim go bhfuil Gaeilge an-soiléir go deo agam. Ní féidir le cuid acu mé a thuiscint toisc go bhfuil droch-Ghaeilge acu. Gaeilge na Jailtachta atá á labhairt acu. […] Cuireann Gaeilge Gerry Adams as go mór dom. Cad chuige nach gcuireann an fear dua air féin í a fhoghlaim i gceart? Déarfainnse leis go bhfuil sé ag baint leas as an teanga ó thaobh na polaitíochta de.12 (The Irish language community of Belfast would say that I haven’t ever engaged with them since I’ve been here! Some of them call me ‘the Irish snob’! They say that they can’t understand me but I think that my Irish is very clear. Some of them can’t understand me

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 150

04/04/2012 16:17

Ideology 151 because they have bad Irish. They speak the Irish of the Jailtacht […] Gerry Adams’s Irish really annoys me. Why doesn’t the man trouble himself to learn it properly? I’d say to him that he is drawing political advantage from the Irish language.)

Killoran goes on to assert in the interview that while she is not a republican, her own family on both sides are from the ‘old IRA’ and that they are dyed-in-thewool (the actual term used in ‘go smior’ – to the marrow) Fianna Fáil. A letter of complaint by Paul Larkin about her attitude appeared in Lá on 8 August and the debate continued into September. Ian Lee made a contribution to the Irish language news portal on 9 September 2005 in which he praises Killoan for giving him something to think about while taking her to task for equating the Irish of the Jailtacht with bad Irish as it is ‘hurtful’: Theagasc mé féin daoine as iarthar Bhéal Feirste i gcoláistí Gaeilge i dTír Chonaill agus thaitin a gcuid Gaeilge agus a n-acmhainn ghrinn go mór liom, go fiú agus a fhios acu go rabhthas ag tabhairt Jailtacht orthu, ach is dóigh liom gur ghortaigh Máire Killoran iad.13 (I myself taught some people from west Belfast on Irish language courses in Donegal and I very much enjoyed their Irish and the sense of humour, even though they were called Jailtacht. I would imagine that Máire Killoran has caused them hurt.)

Killoran’s explanation of her own political credentials is critical to understanding her critique of Jailic. She relates her own good Irish to her family background and the opportunities provided by the Republic of Ireland. Or to put it quite crudely, her view is that her Irish is in fact Fianna Fáil Irish, correct Irish, unlike the bad Irish of the Jailtacht. While the criticism of the relationship between Sinn Féin and the Irish language is taken in a different direction by Pól Ó Muirí, it too is couched in terms of linguistic correctness. Ó Muirí’s article appeared in the unionistleaning newspaper The Belfast Telegraph on 16 February 2009, for which he is a columnist. The piece is a critical commentary on the poor Irish language of the party’s European election brochure. This short section is sufficient to demonstrate the tenor of the article: Party president Gerry Adams writes: ‘Tá eolais (sic) sa (sic) foilseacháin (sic) seo ar obair do chuid Airí?’ and ‘tá am deacair eacnamaíochta, naisiúnta (sic) agus idirnaisiúnta (sic) romhain (sic).’ While the piece from Deputy First Minister, Martin McGuinness, talks of ‘sochaí cothrom (sic) a cruthú’ (sic), ‘obair furasta’ (sic) “ar fud an Tuasiceart” (sic) and “chun phobail (sic) níos sábhailte (sic) a

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 151

04/04/2012 16:17

152 Jailtacht cruthú (sic) ?” […] Yes, there is enough bad spelling to make anyone sic! The party has declared war on feminine nouns, the genitive case and the síneadh fada (forward accents), all the things that make Irish the distinctive language it is.14

The online version of the column was quickly accompanied by a series of posts, many of which were entertainingly ironical. For example, ‘Con’ simply points out that the author’s name appeared in the newspaper without any of the appropriate Irish language accents: ‘Pol (sic) O (sic) Muiri (sic), dear oh dear’ (posted on 16 February 2009). ‘Tarlach’ (on 23 February 2009) and ‘Jeff Regal the Eagle’ (on 16 February 2009) make posts in a similar vein. It is worth pointing out as well that the web version of the title, ‘Sinn Fein Irish is enough to make you sic’ does not have the síneadh fada accent above the /e/ in /Fein/ – it ought to be /Sinn Féin/. The whole piece was lampooned by ‘Gael gan Náire’ (Unashamed Gael) and associated posts on the Northern Irish blog on 19 February.15 In this case ‘Gael gan Náire’ suggests that Ó Muirí may be politically motivated in his criticism as he regularly contributes to a broadly nationalist SDLP-leaning blog . O’Connor, in a prescient article in The Irish Times offers an explanation of the criticism of ‘Sinn Féin Irish’ which still seems to me to apply: More than twelve years after the first ceasefire, it might be legitimate to argue that leading republicans should have polished up their pronunciation and grammar. Disdain for the Adams Irish also includes a kind of snobbery […] Jailtacht Irish has its limitations, but the wonder is that it emerged at all.16

The hypocrisy of the very public and vocal criticisms of the Irish of Gerry Adams is subtly exposed in a satirical article by ‘Balor’ which appeared in Beo in 2007. The text comprises a fake interview with Dr Ian Paisley, then leader of the DUP. The most telling comment is written as if the words had actually been spoken by Dr Paisley. His criticism is of Gerry Adams’s failure to use the word /obair/ in the genitive case /oibre/ along with the prothetic onset /h/, as necessary to the construction, thus /hoibre/, in the well-known Irish language idiom ‘tús maith leath na hoibre meaning ‘a good start is half the work’: Ar chuala tú an dúramán: ‘Tús maith leath an obair’ a dúirt an t-amadán. A leithéid de rud le rá os comhair an tsaoil! Tá a fhios agam go ndeir sibhse gur fearr Gaeilge bhriste ná Béarla cliste, ach bhí an Ghaeilge sin ina smidiríní ar fad. Cé nach mbeadh a fhios acu ‘Tús maith leath na hoibre’. Fiú múinteoirí óga bunscoile ag teacht amach as an choláiste, bheadh an méid sin ar eolas acu, beagnach.17

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 152

04/04/2012 16:17

Ideology 153 (Did you hear the dullard: ‘Tús maith leath an obair’, the fool said. What a thing to say! I know that they say the broken Irish is better than clever English, but the Irish was all over the place. Who doesn’t know ‘Tús maith leath na hoibre’. Even young primary school teachers coming out of college would know that much, almost.)

The use of the word ‘beagnach’, meaning ‘almost’, is wonderfully weighted. ‘Balor’, in the distinctive evangelical preacher’s voice that is Dr Paisley’s, is excoriating in his criticism of the inadequacy of the Irish of Gerry Adams until we hear ‘beagnach’. Bound up in that ‘almost’ is a rapier-like reference to the failure of decades of public policy in the Republic of Ireland, at very considerable expense and largely the construct of Fianna Fáil, to achieve little more than that accomplished by Gerry Adams. In sum, we can say that the cases of ‘Fianna Fáil Gaelic’ and ‘Sinn Féin Irish’ are different in kind but not degree. Or to put it another way, views on Jailic style are never simply or purely linguistic. An invented tradition During the course of my interviews with the former Irish republican prisoners and from my examination of their grey literature, it was immediately obvious that they regarded the teaching and learning of the Irish language as a part of the traditional Irish republican experience of imprisonment. One ex-prisoner puts it quite simply: ‘Generations of imprisoned republicans held one thing in common – an interest in learning the Irish language’.18 They considered themselves to be an important link in a process of language transmission spanning different generations of Irish republicans incarcerated in prisons in Britain and Ireland. In some cases a direct link is claimed. Several prisoners claimed that they learned the language in the Cages in the 1970s from prisoners who had previously learned Irish from an older generation of Irish republicans with whom they were in prison during the 1950s, and that these prisoners in turn had acquired their own Irish during a period of incarceration in the 1940s. Often the tradition is invoked in commemorative pieces and obituaries such as that penned by Ó Donnghaile19 in which he records how different close relatives of his each acquired the Irish language ‘faoi ghlas an Gallaibh’.20 In another instance the Irish republican Máirtín Ó Muilleoir21 makes the case for the inclusion of this particular tradition in an exhibition on the history of the Irish language in Belfast more generally: One omission in the excellent exhibition is a display on Irish and the prisons. If it wasn’t for the Argenta, the Al Rawdah, Crumlin Road and the H-Blocks, Irish in Belfast wouldn’t enjoy the exalted position it now has. So let’s get a mention for those Gaeilgeoir Felons Tarlach

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 153

04/04/2012 16:17

154 Jailtacht Ó hUid and Tomás Ó hEanáin, Seán Mac Ainmhire and Proinnsíos Mac Airt, Bobby Sands and Pilib Ó Rúnaí.22

Mac Ionnrachtaigh offers a very unproblematic rendering of the tradition alluded to by those such as Ó Donnghaile, whilst also assuming the ideological thrust intended by its Irish republican protagonists: Mhuscail dícheall teanga s’acu an chúis chultúrtha in aigne an ghnáthÉireannaigh i dtuaisceart na tíre. Ní mór dúinn a aithint gurb iad seo na fáthanna a bhfuil gluaiseacht na poblachta agus pobal na Gaeilge faoi chomaoin ag leithéidí Mháirtín Uí Chadhain, Tharlach Uí Uid, Phroinsias Mhic Airt agus Bobby Sands a thaispeáin gurb í ‘an Ghaeilge Athghabháil na hÉireann’ agus gurb í ‘Athghabháil na hÉireann slánú na Gaeilge’.23 (Their linguistic endeavours awoke the cultural cause in the minds of the ordinary Irish person in the northern part of Ireland. We must recognise that these are the reasons why the republican movement and the Irish language community is indebted to the likes of Máirtín Ó Cadhain, Tarlach Ó hUid, Proinsias Mac Airt and Bobby Sands for showing that ‘the Irish language is the repossession of Ireland’ and that ‘the repossession of Ireland is the redemption of the Irish language’.)

Mac Ionnrachtaigh, in line with Irish republican thought, is asserting that the Irish language tradition amongst Irish republican prisoners, understood as a continuous anthropolinguistic chain, inspired the revival of the language in Northern Ireland, itself a vital contribution to the ultimate decolonisation of Ireland. When presented in this manner, historical reality has undergone some elision. The idea of such historical continuity between successive generations of Irish republican prisoners and their relationship with the Irish language is clearly attractive to the current generation of Irish republicans. The historical reality is in fact quite discontiguous. The views of some former Irish republican prisoners upon the importance of the Irish language during their periods of incarceration appear to have undergone some retrospective revision. The case of Tarlach Ó hUid merits some attention in this regard. He was born in London in 1917 to Augustus Walter Hood and Ada Brockwell. Neither of his parents was of Irish extraction but yet, due to a developing interest in all things Irish, Ó hUid joined Conradh na Gaeilge in London in 1935 and then converted to Catholicism in 1937. At some point during this period he also joined the IRA. He then travelled to Ireland, having gained a scholarship to learn Irish in the Donegal Gaeltacht and at the outbreak of the Second World War in 1939 he played a part in the IRA’s campaign in Northern Ireland. This

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 154

04/04/2012 16:17

Ideology 155

included editing the Irish republican publication War News under the pseudonym ‘Terry Wilson’. He was arrested and sent to prison in 1940, spending several years in the County and City Gaol of Derry. During imprisonment Ó hUid developed into a prolific writer in both English and Irish, something he made a living from after leaving prison at the conclusion of the Second World War in 1945. Several of his works were autobiographical. The claim made of Ó hUid in the Irish language Irish republican tradition is that he created a ‘Gaeltacht’ in the Derry jail. For example, ex-prisoner John McGuffin claims that: ‘For several years the jail almost became a miniature Gaeltacht where only Irish was spoken, even by some of the screws’.24 McGuffin’s source is not certain, but the information is clearly not autobiographical as he was born in 1942. He was interned in the Cages in 1971 and must have acquired this view of the Gaeltacht in Derry jail whilst in the Cages. Significantly, Ó hUid makes no mention of a Gaeltacht in Derry jail in any of this published works up until that point. Indeed, he had spent much of the 1950s and 1960s renouncing his IRA past, especially in his book Ar Thóir mo Shealbha (1960).25 It is not until 1985, in the work Faoi Ghlas, that he makes the claim for the creation of such a Gaeltacht.26 This inconsistency is problematic, especially as Ó hUid has been described elsewhere as a fantasist whose testimony is not to be trusted.27 It would not be entirely unreasonable to suggest that the substance of the Gaeltacht of Derry Jail has been greatly embellished, at least, by Ó hUid. The temptation for him to revisit and rewrite his past, once again, was, no doubt, intensified as a result of the international impact of the prison protests, in particular given the role played by the Irish language. Thus, his 1985 work cemented his place in the emergent tradition of the Irish republican Gaeltacht behind the prison walls. Irish republican literature sometimes narrates this tradition through individual biographies. One former prisoner, Eddie Keenan, is often presented as the physical embodiment of the tradition. At the age of 19, Eddie Keenan was interned in HMP Belfast (Crumlin Road) in 1940. According to one Irish republican source this happened in November 194028 but according to another it was February 1941.29 Eddie Keenan himself notes that he was in Naul, County Dublin in January 1941 and clearly not in prison.30 Shortly after his imprisonment he successfully escaped. McGuffin claims that this occurred in May 1941. He was then arrested in the Republic of Ireland (Irish Free State at that time) and imprisoned in the Curragh 194131 until his release in 1945 (according to Friel, but the general amnesty was actually in 1946). Eddie Keenan described to Friel how he learned Irish in the Curragh: He remembers his father singing songs in Gaelic but he didn’t learn the language himself until he was interned in the ’40s. ‘I was in the Gaelic hut,’ says Eddie. ‘I could speak hardly a word but other fellas from Belfast were there so I decided to join them.’32

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 155

04/04/2012 16:17

156 Jailtacht

But of course, elsewhere Eddie Keenan states that he had been learning Irish with the Gaelic League in Belfast prior to any of his periods of imprisonment, for example: I first got to know Cathal in 1937 when we were in our teens and members of Saint Joseph’s branch of the Gaelic League. St Joseph’s was a very active branch, with camogie and football teams. There used to be Irish language classes every Thursday night and céili dance classes afterwards. They also organised céilis in a wee room in Marquis Street on Saturdays. Cathal and I never missed them. I didn’t know him then as well as I got to know him in later years but we all enjoyed ourselves at any functions organised by the branch. I think it would be proper to mention some names of people that Cathal and I often reminisced about – Tom Heenan, who used to teach a bun rang, a great Gael and an ardent republican who enthused us with the spirit of Pearse and all things gaelic.33

Why is the claim to having learned the Irish language in the Curragh so important? The answer is Máirtín Ó Cadhain. Ó Cadhain was interned in the Curragh as a dissident Irish republican. Whilst in the Curragh he held Irish language classes, an experience which was inspirational for him: ‘A Hidden Ireland scene in a dirty, cold, badly lighted hut in the centre of the bleak Curragh. A hopebereft slum of raggy, hungry, fagless internees from bogs and city gutters, not one of whom was ever past a national school … And these lads gobbled up the syllabic metres of middle Irish! […] And I would face a concentration camp again for the renewal of that experience, if for nothing else’.34 Amongst his pupils was Brendan Behan, who would go on to forge his own reputation as a formidable playwright in the English language.35 Joe Bray was another. After his release from the Curragh he emigrated to the USA where he became a ‘professor of Irish’ at Sullivan County and Orange County Community Colleges. Whilst directing me to the obituary, his descendant asserted with considerable pride that Joe Bray had learned his Irish in the Curragh with Máirtín Ó Cadhain.36 Also amongst these students was Eddie Keenan. Thus, when he was interned in the Cages of HMP Long Kesh for nine months during 1971 and 1972, and no doubt came into contact with those prisoners learning Irish there, Eddie Keenan became the physical link between the two generations of incarcerated students of the Irish language. Yet Máirtín Ó Cadhain is crucial in a number of other very specific ways. He was a native speaker and former national school teacher from Connemara who in 1948 published a critically acclaimed Irish language novel, Cré na Cille.37 Ó Cadhain therefore lends serious linguistic and literary credibility to the Irish republican prison Gaeltacht tradition.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 156

04/04/2012 16:17

Ideology 157

Yet the contemporary generation of Irish republicans who passed through the Jailtacht have a rather nuanced view of the practical usefulness of the Irish language literature of Máirtín Ó Cadhain. For example, former Irish republican prisoner Pilib Ó Rúnaí, who might now easily be described as an Irish language activist and amongst whose various activities is the teaching of an Irish language evening class, is sensitive to the political contribution of Ó Cadhain and his importance to the Irish republican movement generally but he doesn’t use his work in presenting the language to his pupils. This is because it is widely recognised that his Irish is rather inaccessible to second language learners;38 instead he makes use of the more popular and readable novels of Seosamh Mac Grianna and Séamus ‘Máire’ Ó Grianna, written in the northern dialect of Irish. The choice is neither merely linguistic nor literary, although these brothers were native speakers from the Donegal Gaeltacht in Ulster and were both successful Irish language authors. The simple historical and political fact is that they were interned during the 1920s for their Irish republican activities. Thus, as with Ó Cadhain, they have both linguistic and political credibility in Irish republican terms and this is why they are drawn upon to authenticate the emergence of the Jailtacht and its own particular form of the Irish language, namely Jailic. In contrast to the stories of Eddie Keenan and Tarlach Ó hUid, a critical reading of other Irish republican material dating from the period of the Cages of HMP Long Kesh in the early 1970s suggests that a rather tokenistic attitude towards the language was held by some, perhaps even a majority, of the Irish republican prisoners. It would appear that they adopted a position with regard to the language which viewed it as having considerable iconic value but very limited practical use. Such an attitude is well illustrated in the following description penned by Gerry Adams in his prison journal of an encounter with the Irish language during his period of internment in Cage 11 at HMP Long Kesh (the original text was actually written at the time but published in book form at a much later date): On being kicked out of bed myself, at a much more respectable hour, I saw that Your Man was still up and that he was behaving exactly like the others [i.e. other so-called ‘early risers’]. ‘I’ve started learning Irish,’ he explained. ‘And I study in the morning when it’s quiet.’ He must think I’m a complete eejit. Learning Irish, he says. He doesn’t know ‘Cad é mar atá tú?’ [How are you?] from ‘Bórd na Móna’ [The Turf Board, a state body responsible for the exploitation of turf as a fuel]. Not that I’ve anything against the Irish; I’m learning it myself. Only it’s very hard in here. It’s difficult to find the time to do everything.39

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 157

04/04/2012 16:17

158 Jailtacht

The notion of ‘finding the time’ is revealing. It echoes ‘doing time’,40 that is the means by which prisoners ordinarily conceive of the relationship between their being in prison and their ‘real’ life beyond that. The space of time prior to their being returned to that ‘real’ life is usually reduced to living in the moment in prison, from day to day, while waiting for the opportunity to re-enter the full flow of life and the outside world. Prison was a gap to be survived with a patient marking of the passage time. That a sense of ‘doing time’ defined much of the Irish republican prison experience at this particular juncture is reinforced by this extract from the autobiographical material of Gerry Adams once again: Sometimes we give ourselves a hard time … But mostly we save up our resentments for the prison administration. We mess up head counts, make hurling sticks out of prison timber, protest regularly, organise our own structures, read books they don’t understand, ignore their instructions, try to escape, succeed in escaping. Generally we just do our own thing. We enjoy political status in Cage Eleven. We would do all of the above anyway even if we didn’t have political status. In fact we would probably do worse, enduring a unique experience under and because of the unique political apartheid which exists in this little British colony in the top right-hand corner of Ireland … Your Man says we’ll all be out by 24 April next year … Only one hour, four minutes and one thousand six hundred and twenty-four days to go.41

Thus, prisoners such as Gerry Adams were marking time in HMP Long Kesh, waiting for the opportunity to leave and to recommence political violence – the substantive activity of the organisation to which they belonged. In this sense the Irish language was simply a part of the furniture, a feature of the social architecture of prison life. It carried very limited resonance beyond the prison walls. The struggle of the ordinary prisoner to ensure his own psychological survival of incarceration, especially long-term incarceration, is common to literature on the sociology of prison.42 Contrast Adams’s pre-1976 view with that of another former prisoner, Pilib Ó Rúnaí, who simultaneously lays claim to some notion of tradition while at the same time asserting the effect the Irish language had upon his further radicalisation whilst in the H-Blocks post-1977: I’d a brother in the Cages who had a Gold Fainne but I’d no Irish previous to prison other than one or two words of school Irish. The language was a part of the struggle, personal struggle. It was all a means of communication, a tool, an armed weapon, a means of struggle. It was an assertion of political and national identity. It was showing to the prison regime that you weren’t broken, that you

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 158

04/04/2012 16:17

Ideology 159 weren’t afraid of them (interview with Pilib Ó Rúnaí, 2007 (In H-3 between 1977 and 1985)).

Ó Rúnaí reflects this invented tradition, Adams does not. Or to put it another way, the former contributes to the construction of the tradition while the latter, in his contemporaneous work, writes himself out of it. It is popularly asserted that Adams learned his Irish in prison43 but clearly the reality is much more complicated. Medievalism The Irish republican prisoners borrowed from the vocabulary of medieval Irish law in order to describe what they saw as their most potent form of protest, namely the hunger strike. The first of these borrowings is the term /céalacán/. This word was used by Bobby Sands in the short diary he kept during the first few days of his terminal hunger strike.44 The first point I ought to make is that a second accent is mistakenly, according to modern orthography, inserted above the second /a/. This would substantially alter the pronunciation of the word, with greater emphasis on the third syllable than is accepted as the norm. That said, other sources, perhaps reflecting the influence of Old or Modern Irish on the word, include the second accent. For example, Quiggin45 records the use of the word ‘céalacán‘, or ‘ciallacan’, in Donegal, meaning ‘black-fast’, at the end of the 19th century, while an anonymous Internet source finds that the word ‘céalacán‘ relates to the origins of the Irish word for Wednesday: ‘Is é an Chéadaoin lá na seachtaine idir an Mháirt agus an Déardaoin. Tagann an ainm ón focal sean-Ghaeilge aoin, “céalacán”. Do na Ceiltigh b’é an Chéadaoin an chéad lá den céalacán roimh ceiliúradh na Dé ag deireadh na seachtaine’ (Wednesday is the day of the week between Tuesday and Thursday. The name comes from the Old Irish aoin, ‘céalacán’. To the Celts, Wednesday was the first day of the céalacán, prior to the celebration of God at the end of the week).46 This may well be the case as the proper meaning of the word, according to Ó Dónaill, seems to refer to a religious abstinence from food: Céalacan, m. (gs. –ain). Morning fast. Bheith ar ~, to be fasting from the previous night. Tá mé ar ~ fós, I have not yet broken my morning fast. Le tógáil ar ~, to be taken fasting. Do chéalacan a bhriseadh, to break one’s fast, to take breakfast. ~ fada, long fast in the morning, late breakfast.47

Interestingly, we can see from a variety of sources that another Irish language word for the term /hunger strike/ was also in currency at this time, namely / troscadh/. Its authoritative dictionary definition is as follows:

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 159

04/04/2012 16:17

160 Jailtacht troscadh, m. (gs. –aidh, pl. –aí). 1. vn. of TROISC. 2. Fast. Bheith i do throscadh, to be fasting. Chuaigh mé ann i mo throscadh, I went there fasting, without having breakfasted. ~ a dhéanamh, to fast, to observe an ecclesiastical fast. An té a bhfuil ~ air, he who is bound to fast. Má tá ~ ar fheoil, if flesh-meat is forbidden. Lá troscaidh, fast-day. ~ an anama, Ember-days. S.a. TRÉANACH. troisc, v.i. (vn. –oscadh, pp. ~the). Fast. Troscadh sa Charghas, to fast in Lent. Troscadh ar fheoil, to abstain from meat. Throisc mé ar an tobac, I refrained from smoking. Hist: Troscadh ar dhuine, to fast against s.o. (in order to obtain demand or request). tréanach, a1. Abstinent. Troscadh ~, fast with abstinence from flesh-meat.48

Cleary the word has both religious and historical, legal applications. Devlin uses both terms while introducing variant spellings of them in a scholarly paper in a legal studies journal. Here Devlin explains the historical legal significance of the act of hunger strike: Hunger striking was not a recent phenomenon in Ireland. On the contrary, its roots can be traced back to an ancient, Pre-Christian Irish legal code, the Brehon Laws, and the practice of cealachan or troscead. Cealachan/troscead is a component of the ancient Irish law of Athgabhail (Distress) which, in common law terms, could be considered a remedy for the commission of a tort. Stated simply, if a person had been wronged by another who was more powerful, the wronged party was entitled to claim the distress by fasting at the door of the wrongdoer, once all other remedies had been exhausted. Responsibility for ending the fast is vested in the perceived wrongdoer. If the latter allowed the plaintiff to starve to death, then the wrongdoer was held responsible for the death and had to compensate the victim’s family. In 1981 the strikers rediscovered and reconstituted this almost silenced countervailing legal regime. The hunger strike, then, was not simply a last ditch desperate propaganda stunt. Rather it was the espousal of cultural difference, the exposition of a jural other and the assertion of a legal right.49

Writing at around the same time as Devlin, Sweeny explains how /troscad/ was used as a method of redress by the lower classes of pre-Christian Ireland against the aristocratic ‘nemed’.50 He goes on to describe how by the ninth century and following the advent of Christianity to Ireland, /troscad/ became a largely symbolic act ‘conventionalized […] into a ritual fast which began at sundown and ended at sunrise’.51 It may very well be the case that both terms were introduced to a popular readership by Beresford in 1987: ‘It is an ancient

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 160

04/04/2012 16:17

Ideology 161

weapon in Ireland, the hungerstrike, even more ancient than the cause in the name of which it was wielded at the end of 1980. The earlier records place its origins in medieval Ireland where, as Troscad (fasting on or against a person) or Cealachan (achieving justice by starvation), it had a place in the civil code, the Senchus Mor’.52 Others appear to have followed Beresford. For example, the term /cealachan/, using Beresford’s orthography, was reproduced by Feldman in his 1991 publication as is the case in this transcription of an interview with a former prisoner and member of the IRA: With the Gaelic you began to get back in touch with political and ideological concepts. For instance cealachan [sic], where in the Brehon laws to express a grievance against an injustice a guy sat outside the wrongdoer’s house and starved himself to death. Now cealachan had a whole moral import to it that it wasn’t a hunger strike as a protest weapon; it was a legal assertion of your rights. The hunger strike was a legitimate and moral means for asserting those rights, and it had legal precedents dating back to antiquity. You found that there was literature that was untranslatable from the Gaelic that could never be expressed in cold English.53

The content of the interview is equally instructive. The interviewee is making the point that the use of the Irish language term reconfigures the moral case for the act of hunger strike. At the time there was a substantial debate as to whether it constituted suicide or not. As practising Catholics, the point was significant to the Irish republicans as suicide is regarded as a mortal sin by the Catholic Church. The theological debate which ensued had considerable international impact and, for some theologians, the notions of /troscadh/ and /céalacan/ in medieval Irish law were persuasive in justifying the act of hunger striking unto death as a legitimate form of seeking redress, and therefore morally justified and not a ‘sin’.54 Some see this as proof of a simplistic and dangerous Irish republican reading of the medieval Irish past. The political scientists McGarry and O’Leary identify that criticism in the following manner: The claim that the Northern Irish are unhealthily preoccupied with the past is, understandably, closely associated with professional historians. Oliver MacDonagh turns Oscar Wilde’s witty dictum that ‘Irish history is something which Irishmen should never remember, and Englishmen should never forget’ into a sober cultural observation: the Irish never forget and the English never remember. Other historians, much less sympathetic to Irish nationalism, add that Irish republicans interpret their past through the distorting lens of Gaelic romanticism and Catholic mysticism. The thinly veiled implication is that the provisional IRA is the current bearer of an

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 161

04/04/2012 16:17

162 Jailtacht irrational, romantic, religiously enthused communal hatred, which takes its ‘cultural’ polish from the Gaelic and Catholic revivals of the 19th century. Religious and romantic spiritualism are identified as key traits of Irish political culture, and impliedly culpable for its lack of modernization. Nationalist violence stems from this romanticism. Young people join paramilitary organizations after being schooled in histories of oppression and sacrifice or after imbibing republican songs on similar themes. In one account, even the hunger strikes of 1980–1, in which ten men died, are attributed to Gaelic and Brehon cultures, the sacrificial themes in Christian thought, and the tradition of republican protests and hunger striking stretching back to the Fenian movement founded in the 1850s. The homily for Irish nationalists is clear: abandon the culture which caused these suicides and which still fuels mayhem and antagonism.55

In actual fact, the source of this ‘medievalism’ in Irish republican thought is far from straightforward. The work of Beresford did more than simply recount the story of the 1981 hunger strike; it reintroduced Irish republicans to W. B. Yeats’s Celtic romanticisation of the terminal hunger strike of the Irish republican Terence MacSwiney in 1920. Beresford56 prefaces the first chapter to his book with a quotation from Yeats’s play The King’s Threshold. Other chapters are similarly prefaced. Yet Yeats originally wrote the play in 1904 though he significantly revised it in the light of MacSwiney’s death.57 Moreover, Bradley is convincing when he suggests that MacSwiney was most likely inspired in his actions by the suffragettes and not by any medieval precedent. Of course Beresford presents The King’s Threshold along with /troscadh/ and /céalacan/ as parts of a coherent and unproblematic narrative. This narrative was immediately and enormously appealing to Irish republicans and it remains so.58 The terms /troscadh/ and /céalacan/ may well have been suggested to Bobby Sands by one of the visiting Catholic priests. Indeed, Bobby Sands’s text is suggestive of a spiritual conception of the hunger strike – the mastery of temptation, the mind over the body. The violence we see here is almost entirely internalised – it is a fight against the self and /troscadh/ and /céalacan/ capture the essence of that self-denial. This train of thought is quite seductive but it must be pointed out that the use of the term /céalacan/ to mean hunger strike is not original to the hunger strikers of 1980–1. During 1966 Máirtín Ó Cadhain and a group of radical Irish language activists named Misneach held a symbolic hunger strike. This event was reported by Ó Cadhain in a pamphlet entitled Ar céalacan […]59 and also one of the supporters of Misneach in the Irish language magazine Comhar in a polemic essay entitled ‘Céalacan’.60 I have not been able to trace any evidence of a direct link between these instances of use of the term /céalacan/ and its subsequent use by Bobby Sands but I have already noted

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 162

04/04/2012 16:17

Ideology 163

the regard with which Máirtín Ó Cadhain is held amongst Irish republicans. His name, his work and his actions were certainly familiar to many northern Irish republicans at that time. Some of Bobby Sands’s fellow prisoners claim to have been taught Irish by him whilst previously in prison with Máirtín Ó Cadhain. It is possible that Bobby Sands and his comrades adopted the term because of the Ar céalacan […] publication or the ‘Céalacan’ article in Comhar and not because it derived from early Irish law. In both of these pieces yet another term is used to describe ‘hunger strike’, namely /stailc ocrais/, literally ‘hunger strike’. Here is a term stripped of any Celtic romanticism. Perhaps the naked clarity of /stailc ocrais/ underlines the aesthetic and eschatological qualities that permeate both /troscadh/ and /céalacan/ while at the same time capturing the raw political and biological violence of the act of hunger strike. This is especially true of the H-Block hunger strike. Today it is the much more prosaic term /stailc ocrais/ that dominates popular usage in the Irish republican literature in order to describe the hunger strike of 1980–1. Use of the terms /troscadh/ and /céalacan/ is more qualified, lending them an historical literary and obscurantist theological air. But they continue to be drawn upon when it is necessary to navigate the moral compass of death through hunger strike. ‘my own native tongue’ This brief interaction between two self-avowed loyalists on the loyalist blog Calton – Protestant, Unionist and Loyalist Resources was posted in response to a video of a Continuity IRA parade which had earlier been posted on the Internet. At one point during the parade some of the participants spoke in the Irish language: Divine ‘What’s that chant they’re mumbling? … sounds like some voodoo funeral’ [posted 21 April 2007 06:24 PM] Alfie ‘Maybe those who understand jailic will be able to help us’ [posted 21 April 2007 06:27 PM].61

If the views expressed by ‘Alfie’ and ‘Devine’ on the loyalist blog ‘Calton – Protestant and Loyalist Resources’ (below) is in any way typical of the attitudes of loyalists more generally, then it might very easily be assumed that loyalism and the Irish language are, in absolute terms, incompatible. But this is not quite the case, especially when considered in relation to loyalist prisoners. It is noteworthy that some prisoners affiliated to loyalist paramilitary groups, and therefore ideologically and politically opposed to the Irish republican prisoners, were sufficiently attracted by the language to learn it, despite the circumstances. During the course of the year 1976, the prison administrators provided Irish language teachers for the prisoners. While this service was eschewed by the Irish republicans, as I have explained in the section above on ‘Fianna Fáil

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 163

04/04/2012 16:17

164 Jailtacht

Gaelic and Sinn Féin Irish’, it was taken advantage of by the loyalist prisoners. Sources from amongst the loyalist prisoners offer some insight into the origins and development of this somewhat ironical situation. It is worth quoting extensively from one of these sources, namely William Smith, a loyalist prisoner held at HMP Long Kesh at that time: My first experience of the Irish language, as for many other loyalists, was within the confines of Long Kesh, during the early seventies. I don’t think any of us had heard Gaelic spoken first hand until that time … Republicans used to communicate with their fellow republicans in each compound in Gaelic so nobody else knew what they were saying. They were very close to us [that is, geographically speaking], and as we walked around our own compound we heard the Gaelic language being spoken for the first time, and it reverberated around the whole camp. Now, it was strange for loyalists at that time to hear the Gaelic language actually being spoken, but after a while it became just a feature of camp life. It had an even stronger effect on me because I was listening to a language that I couldn’t understand, that I had never heard before, but it was not a foreign language. It was my own native tongue. The one thing you have in prison is plenty of time, time to read and to learn, and time to think of what is actually happening. It was then that the beauty, the charm and the romanticism of my native tongue seized me, and I decided that I would attempt to learn the Gaelic language. It was one thing trying to learn the language, the practicalities of doing it was another thing. We had no Irish language tutors in the prison, and the prison authorities, when first asked for tutors, seemed dumbfounded as to why we wanted to learn Irish […] I asked one of the republican prisoners to teach me Irish. At that time, I could be seen in one compound, sitting on a chair, while the republican prisoner sat on a chair in his compound fifteen yards away. He used to shout the rudiments of learning the Irish language across to me. After a while I approached the prison authorities, and said that with fifteen yards between us I found it very difficult to learn the language. They agreed to let me out on the roadway, so I was on one side of the fence, and he was on the other, and I used to learn Irish that way. It was roughly nine weeks until I received my Fáinne Glas in the Irish language.62

What sense did the Irish republican prisoners make of this? Apparently they were quite sympathetic: ‘Some loyalists saw it as a part of their culture, not a big part, but still a part. Like Dáithí Parr/de Paor [sp?]. He learned Irish in prison, though he was illiterate in English, and then he taught Irish to others at the wire’ (Séanna Walsh interview with the author 2007). Another former Irish republican prisoner, Máirtín Campbell, puts it as follows:

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 164

04/04/2012 16:17

Ideology 165 Ag an tús, sílim go raibh siad ag iarraidh teanga an ‘namhaid’ a fhoghlaim chun comhráite s’againn a thuiscint ach d’athraigh an meon seo de réir a chéile. […] Mhínigh mé daofa faoi ról stairiúil na bProtastúnach in athbheochan na Gaeilge, dúirt mé leo nach raibh úinéireacht ag creideamh ar bith ar an teanga agus gur leo í chomh maith. Ghlac siad leis an méid seo […] Bheadh greann ann fosta; nuair a fuair siad amach fá dtaobh de na canúintí éagsúla agus mise ag teasgasc focail dhifriúla daofa, shocraigh said go raibh siad ag iarraidh Gaeilge Uladh amháin a fhoghlaim!63 (To begin with, I’m thinking that they were trying to learn the language of the ‘enemy’ so that they could understand our conversations but that mindset was changed gradually. […] I explained to them about the historical role of Protestants in the language revival, I said to them that it wasn’t right to believe that anyone owned that language and that it was for them too. They agreed with that. […] There was some humour too; when they found out about the different dialects and I was teaching them the different vocabulary, they decided that they only wanted to learn Ulster Irish!)

There is some evidence, gleaned from two employees of the UK governmentfunded organisation the Ultach Trust, indicating that such attitudes appear to have persisted amongst some loyalist prisoners at HMP Long Kesh until the middle of the 1990s, or perhaps similar attitudes reappeared at that point in time. First of all, Gordon McCoy distributed some questionnaires amongst loyalist prisoners circa March 1995. The results of these have never been published and I am grateful to McCoy for providing me with the completed questionnaires for the purposes of my own research. Only six questionnaires were completed at HMP Long Kesh while another was completed by a prisoner at HMP Maghaberry. The low level of returns is in itself an indicator of the general lack of interest in the Irish language on the part of loyalist prisoners but a few of the responses are interesting as they mirror aspects of William Smith’s assertion regarding his ‘own native tongue’, for example: Question: Can a knowledge of Irish be of any practical benefit to you? Loyalist prisoner 1: It is our culture and heritage as well. Loyalist prisoner 4: Yes. Again a voice within says it’s my language. Question: Is the Irish language a part of your culture? Loyalist prisoner 2: It is just as much mine as anyone else’s. Loyalist prisoner 4: Yes. I just feel it. Cannot explain it. Question: Which dialect of Irish do you wish to learn? Loyalist prisoner 3: Ulster. Loyalist prisoner 6: That which is spoken mainly in the Ulster counties, which I understand is the most purest form.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 165

04/04/2012 16:17

166 Jailtacht Question: Do you think that Unionists will become more Nationalist in outlook when they learn the Irish language? Loyalist prisoner 3: No. The Irish language is for everyone on this island.

The matter of the Ulster dialect reveals much about what loyalists intend when they identify with the Irish language. Many social surveys have shown that loyalists feel ‘Irish’ in various ways64 and in this particular context this dialect of Irish facilitates a sense of Irish identity which is strongly based in Ulster – the loyalist geographical heartland in Ireland. Some influential members of the Ulster Unionist Party have attempted to use this linguistic sense of Ulster to ‘unite northern Catholics and Protestants, thus laying the cultural foundation for an independent Ulster’.65 Ironically, this identification with the Ulster dialect is something the loyalist prisoners shared with their Irish republican fellows, for example: Words came down from H-6. Their Irish was very good and you would get whatever you could from the pronunciation. It was quite funny at times. There was a lot of uncertainty. At one time it was ‘Tá mé go maith’ [the interviewee uses the Connemara pronunciation of /maith/, that is /mˠaɪ/ in IPA for Irish] and then we started using ‘Tá mé go maith’ [the interviewee uses the Donegal, or Ulster, pronunciation of /maith/, that is/mˠa/ in IPA for Irish] as it was more Ulster. Some things were just wrong like ‘Oíce maithe’ [/ɪcɛ mˠaɪ/ in IPA for Irish] instead of ‘Oíche mhaith’ [/ɪhɛ waɪ/ in IPA for Irish]. We were all saying it like ‘Oíce maithe’ for a long time (Pilib Ó Rúnaí interview with the author 2007).

In contrast to Gordon McCoy, who had his questionnaires distributed and collected by a prison governor and therefore did not actually meet with the prisoners or visit the prison himself, Aodán Mac Póilin visited HMP Long Kesh in person in the course of his work with Ultach Trust. He was invited by the Prison Welfare Service to give a series of lectures to the various paramilitary groups in HMP Long Kesh during the summer of 1995 (Aodán Mac Póilin interview with the author 2009). He gave two lectures on the Protestant Gaelic tradition and Irish surnames to the loyalist paramilitary groups, namely the UDA and the UVF. Mac Póilin recalls that the OC of the UVF was particularly resistent but eventually succumbed due to the explicit and deliberate cross-community nature of the lecture content and also, according to Mac Póilin, his humorous approach to the situation and the task in hand. For example, in parsing possible meanings of the common Ulster surname ‘Graham’ he introduced the loyalist prisoners to a possible Irish language version of the name as ‘Mac Giolla

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 166

04/04/2012 16:17

Ideology 167

Ghruama’. /gruama/ can mean ‘gloomy’ thus their colleague with the surname ‘Graham’ became known as ‘a right gloomy bastard’ (Aodán Mac Póilin interview with the author 2009)! This is a technique that is used by many who want loyalists and unionists to engage with the language, for example: ‘Arís, má bhreathnaíonn tú ar na sloinnte seo – Michelle McIlveen, Gregory Campbell, William McCrea, David Simpson, Ian Paisley – ainmneacha breátha Gaeilge iad uilig agus ainmneacha bhaill an DUP!’66 (Again, if you look at these surnames – Michelle McIlveen, Gregory Campbell, William McCrea, David Simpson, Ian Paisley – they’re all fine Irish language names and all members of the Democratic Unionist Party!) The relationship between loyalist prisoners and the Irish language is probably best explained in a number of ways. As with their Irish republican counterparts, it is clear that some loyalists found the Irish language to be a useful weapon in their own armoury for psychological survival whilst they too were incarcerated in the Cages. However, once Irish republican prison protests became seriously intense, and the Irish language became an integral part of that battle of wills, then loyalist engagement with the language dissipated. And while their interest revived somewhat during the 1990s, in the wake of the ‘peace process’, its complexion was much complicated by a revival of interest in another minoritised language whose Ulster identity was even more potent, namely Ulster Scots. It ought not be a matter for surprise, given the nature of the politics of Northern Ireland, that the appearance of the Irish language as a prominent feature of the Irish republican political agenda has been countered by the emergence of renewed political interest on the part of Unionists in the tongue of Ulster Scots. Any public use of the language, whether in signage or in speech, makes Catholics, nationalist and republicans a visible minority for unionists who make the connection between all of these things. Were Irish to gain official status in some sense, and there are ongoing efforts by republicans to gain an Irish Language Act,67 then public space would have to be made available to these alternative identities. Were this to happen it would have the effect of legitimising the language along with some of its most vehement and articulate lobbyists – Irish republican ex-prisoners. Unionists, naturally, see a threat here and have responded. Ulster Scots is especially useful for unionist ideology as it can simultaneously be looked upon as indigenous to Ireland but also wholly distinctive, and can be used to define a unique Ulster Scots people.68 One particular response to the perceived threat posed by the Irish language was actually the cause of some mirth. On 18 October 1999 the BBC news reported that ‘loyalist vandals’ had torn down street signs in Ulster Scots because they believed that they were in fact in Irish. A most unfortunate ‘misunderstanding’ was the explanation given by the much embarrassed local

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 167

04/04/2012 16:17

168 Jailtacht

DUP councillor.69 Other opposition is much more strategic. For example, Peter Robinson, the leader of the DUP, has talked of launching a ‘fightback’ in this so called ‘culture war’: The DUP is launching a fightback against republican attempts to erode the British identity in Ulster. Party leader Peter Robinson yesterday revealed plans for a Unionist Academy, which will promote the unionist culture and the advantages of the Union, encourage unionist learning in the community and provide a forum for unionist strategising and policy-making, and a British Cultural and Equality Unit to provide legal advice to the public on fighting the removal of British emblems from Northern Ireland society. The twin-pronged initiative will be officially unveiled in September. It comes amid unionist anger at an unrelenting Sinn Fein campaign to promote the Irish culture and target British structures and symbols throughout the country. The DUP leader told a briefing for journalists at Stormont: ‘There has been something of a cultural war in Northern Ireland. We intend to fight back. Our unionist way of life will not be put in some drawer in the back of an office. We are British and intend to stay that way.’70

This is not entirely novel, of course, as the UUP fought to include Ulster Scots as a linguistic counterweight to Irish in the Good Friday Agreement of 1998 which gave birth to the political settlement in NI.71 Some unionist politicians are of the view that Sinn Féin ‘started the cultural war in 1982’ and that while the IRA may have resiled from the armed struggled for the time being, its political wing ‘is now engaged in a process of cultural rearmament and their demand for an Irish language act is part of that process’.72 Whether Ulster Scots is actually a language or not is a matter of some considerable debate. Some argue that it is a dialect of English. Others, such as the linguist John Kirk, question its status as a language by drawing attention to the fact that much of the new vocabulary developed by the proponents of Ulster Scots is entirely spurious. For example, when the unionist newspaper The Belfast Telegraph carried an advertisement for ‘Unner-Editor (Inglis an Ulster-Scotch) fur tha Chammer o tha Scrievit Accoont (Hansard)’ (i.e. Sub-editor (English and Ulster-Scots) in the Office of the Official Report (Hansard) of the New Northern Ireland Assembly) following the Good Friday Agreement, Kirk was reported to have remarked that no-one ‘speaks the language of the job advert or the council leaflet because many of the expressions have never existed in the traditional dialect’.73 Writing in the The Belfast Telegraph, the columnist Barry White voices more popular cynicism with regard to the new vocabulary of Ulster Scots: ‘When I, whose origins are Anglo-Ulster-Scots, see that “about us” means “aboot worsels” in Ulster Scots why do I want to scream?’74

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 168

04/04/2012 16:17

Ideology 169

Notwithstanding the linguistic status of Ulster Scots, it is wholly unambiguous that it has been set up as direct political counterweight to Irish. For example, the following exchange in the House of Lords in Westminster between Lord Laird, a unionist politician, and the government minister on the development of a Gaeltacht Quarter in west Belfast demonstrates the thoroughly competitive attitude taken with regard to the relationship between Irish and Ulster Scots: Lord Laird asked Her Majesty’s Government: Whether it is still their policy to create a Gaeltacht Quarter in West Belfast; if so, when; and what similar arrangements are to be put in place for Ulster-Scots under the policy of parity of esteem. [HL143] Baroness Amos: Officials are working with community representatives to take forward the recommendation of the Joint West Belfast/ Greater Shankhill Task Force that a Gaeltacht Quarter be developed. Proposals are expected early next year. Proposals for an Ulster-Scots quarter have not been submitted.75

The question is remarkable, if not downright bizarre, given that Lord Laird was at that time Chair of the Ulster Scots agency, a body set up following the Good Friday Agreement (1998) under the Implementation Bodies Agreement (1999), and one would have expected that he would have known of the existence of any such potential project, if he were not the actual driving force. Lord Laird must have known that there was no such project and one must conclude, therefore, that his question is a perfect function of a zero-sum mind-set. This game has real implications and appears to have been played to excess by Nelson MacCausland, of the Democratic Unionist Party, as the Minister with responsibility for the languages in the Northern Ireland Assembly. It was reported in some news outlets, but especially those operating in the Irish language,76 that during 2009–10 more public money was spent on Ulster Scots (£6.95m) than on Irish (£4.4m), in total contrast to the respective and very different demographic strength of the two.77 That the notion of ‘my own native tongue’ has withered is confirmed by the bizarre preface to a question put by Gregory Campbell DUP MLA for East Londonderry to Edwin Poots, then Minister of Culture, Arts and Leisure, ‘Irish and Ulster Scots: Funding and Parity’ on the floor of the NI Assembly on 10 September 2007: Mr Campbell: Were I a satirist, I might begin my question to the Minister with the words, ‘Cora my Yogi Bear, a can coca colya.’ However, setting humour to one side, the information provided by the Minister confirms what I established from the direct rule Minister last year — that the Irish language obtains thirty times more public funding than the Ulster-Scots cultural outlook. Given that that is the

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 169

04/04/2012 16:17

170 Jailtacht case, will the Minister confirm that the figures he has outlined to the Assembly today will be taken into account when he is deliberating on future budget allocations on the basis of parity for all of the people with a cultural outlook in Northern Ireland?78

Campbell’s attempt at satire certainly provoked a vigorous response. For example, it sparked a vitriolic Blog conversation, initiated by ‘Deezer’.79 It also generated a properly satirical reaction by ‘An Speallaire’ in the Irish language weekly newspaper Foinse. ‘An Speallaire’ interprets Campbell’s peculiar phrase ‘Cora my Yogi Bear, a can coca colya’ as an attempted play on ‘Thank you, Speaker’ in Irish namely ‘Go raibh maith agat, a Cheannchomhairle’. In addition, he notes that Campbell concluded with another attempt at humour in an aside to the UUP MLA David McNarry: If David was listening, he should know I wasn’t speaking Klingon’.80 McNarry had, earlier in the year, made an invidious comparison between some actions of the DUP and the fictional world of Star Trek. There is no official record of this aside but if it is true then it underlines Campbell’s aim. His use of the language was not to claim ownership of it or identification with it; quite the contrary. For Campbell this is most certainly not his native language in any sense. Rather, his aim was to assert that the Irish language, as used by Sinn Féin during interactions between MLAs in the Assembly, is an incomprehensible and alien tongue. Thus, the idea of Irish as a ‘native tongue’ of Ulster loyalism, as articulated by loyalist prisoners, is struggling to survive. Yet, it is not those whom unionists accuse of hijacking the language and imposing ‘culture war’ on NI who are threatening that idea, rather it is other members of the family of loyalism who are determined to inflict the mortal blow. Jailtacht, Gaoltacht and Ceathrú na Gaeltachta If the word Jailtacht has its origins as an ironic portmanteau then it has much outgrown its original intended meaning. For some it is a shorthand for the Irish-speaking community, and Irish republican part, of Belfast. For example, the columnist Liam Ó Muirthile writing in The Irish Times in 1994 describes being in west Belfast at that time as being in the Jailtacht: ‘An raibh fhios agam go rabhas im sheasamh sa Jailtacht?’81 (‘Did I know that I was standing in the Jailtacht?’). The idea persists. In a blog conversation on the Bebo site Dóchas Nua na Gaeilge (New Hope for the Irish Language) aimed at young people and dedicated to promoting the Irish language in cities in Ireland, ‘Rebecca Ní Críocháin’ posted the following remark: ‘Beil Feirste= an jailtacht agus broduil freisin! ’ (Belfast= the jailtacht and proud also!).82 Hegarty notes in The Irish Times that west Belfast is ‘nicknamed “the jailtacht”, where speaking Irish remains a political and cultural statement rather than a lifestyle choice’.83 Of course, it was one of the aims of the Irish republican

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 170

04/04/2012 16:17

Ideology 171

prisoners to transform ‘the wider community’ in accordance with their values, for example, as one former prisoner puts it in interview with another: It would be great if we could transfer that from the jail community to the wider community outside. You would have some society and the whole quality of life within our community would be far better. And for me that’s something worth struggling for because that’s what it’s all about, the quality of life, people’s advancement on a personal level and collective level. That’s what freedom’s about.84

More recently, west Belfast has been rebranded as ‘An Ceathrú Gaeltachta’,85 or the Gaeltacht Quarter, as a part of a major urban regeneration project. According to Dutton’s report, the central task of An Ceathrú Gaeltachta is to promote a strategy that ‘secures wealth creation within one of the most deprived parts of Northern Ireland, by maximising the economic opportunities provided by a growing cluster of Irish language and cultural based enterprises and activities, which additionally have significant tourism potential.’86 Irish language activists involved in its inception see it as a natural part of the development of the language in that part of Belfast: The Gaeltacht Quarter consolidates what is already a long story built on steady development. Two landmark events are useful in this respect – the stories of Cumann Chluain Ard and Gaeltacht Bhóthar Seoigh (Shaw’s Road Gaeltacht). Each provides insights into the language’s organic growth and explains that the Gaeltacht Quarter is ideologically consistent with generations of thinking stretching back to the 1930s.87

One might well ask what is meant by ‘organic growth’ and ‘ideologically consistent’, but Mistéil offers no explanation. Perhaps he assumes that the reader already knows. If he is only writing for other members of the Irish-speaking community of west Belfast then they probably do. This seems to me to be a claim for political and linguistic continuity that merely raises the more troubling possibility of the disguise of rupture and tension. Sometimes these bubble to the surface as can be gleaned, for example, from the interaction between a post on a blog and the obituary of Seosamh Mistéal (father of both Séan and Pilib Mistéil, whose writings I refer to) published in The Irish Times in April 2009. In the obituary it is noted that he was a member of the IRA during the 1940s but that he later departed as ‘he was not prepared to kill others’. He remained an Irish republican and subsequently became very active in Irish language affairs. During the 1960s he was a founder member of the Shaw’s Road Gaeltacht in west Belfast, a development much admired by Bobby Sands. Despite the

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 171

04/04/2012 16:17

172 Jailtacht

reasons for Mistéal leaving the IRA, in his post on the blog ‘Organized Rage’ where he pays tribute to Seosamh Mistéal, Mick Hall makes blunt connections between this Belfast revival of the Irish language, the provisional IRA’s campaign of political violence and the Irish republican prisoners.88 For Hall the connections are wholly unproblematic when clearly they are not. Equally, Mac Póilin89 points out that the Gaeltacht Quarter is a distance of two miles from the Shaw’s Road Gaeltacht and that the socio-economic profile of the area of the Shaw’s Road Gaeltacht means that in contrast with other parts of west Belfast, it does not fall within the government definition of urban deprivation. This appears to challenge the ‘organic’ picture painted by Mistéil. This desire for ‘ideological consistency’ is of wider significance as Belfast City Council is now encouraging international tourists and other visitors to spend time in the Gaeltacht Quarter as ‘an area renowned for its community festivals and hospitality’.90 In the same press release Jake Mac Siacais, former Irish republican prisoner and now director of west Belfastbased development agency Forbairt Feirste, is quoted in order to draw the attention of potential visitors to ‘some of the unique attractions of this quarter of the city’. Their efforts have been successful and many visitors of all types have been drawn to the area. The magazine Geographical published an e-mail by Clare Barnes as their letter of the month in August 2009 in which she remarks: […] to get the full Northern Ireland experience, I would recommend that visitors also take time to visit either Derry or Belfast, and ideally go on one of the political walking tours around these cities. I went on the Free Derry tour with Ruarí O’Heara a few years ago and left with a far greater understanding of Ireland’s relationship with England and the Troubles. He’s part of an organisation called Coiste in Belfast that also organises tours around the city, often led by exRepublican prisoners.’91

Barnes is wonderfully innocent in that Coiste is, of course, an organisation for former Irish republican prisoners and the tours organised by it are aimed at educating people such as her about the historical and political meaning, in Irish republican terms, of the sites they are presented to. Thus, Coiste describes its work as ‘hosting […] education groups from around the world’.92 Conveniently, the organisation’s website makes available feedback from various past members of such educational groups. One such respondent included Sarah Brouillette, Assistant Professor in Literature at MIT with whom the tour found much favour: ‘I LOVED the tour I took through your organization. It was fascinating, and I found Sean to be an incredibly compelling, admirable speaker. Thanks again for the great tour.’93 The fruits of her visit eventually worked their way

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 172

04/04/2012 16:17

Ideology 173

into an exhibition on NI at the Smithsonian.94 Despite her apparent seduction, Brouillette elsewhere coins an apt new term to describe the operation of the political conflict in NI reconstructed as a visitor experience: ‘struggle tourism’.95 Also, she puts her finger on a part of the problem with regard to such visitor experiences: Those with a business interest in cultural and heritage tourism have had to navigate a path between suppressing certain aspects of the history of the Troubles and promoting the availability of regional violence for brand creation. In turn the government, itself notably unstable, wants to promote security and economic development by encouraging certain kinds of heritage commemoration and not others.’96

In another paper she reads ‘Chuckie Lurgan’, an Irish republican character from the Robert McLiam Wilson novel Eureka Street (1996), through her prism of struggle tourism and finds him to be exploiting the conflict in NI for financial gain by selling the ‘ethnic accessories’ of Irish identity through ‘marketing regional violence.’97 She appears to imply that ‘a transition from nationalist cultural production to a more liberal and transnational […] practice’98 would be preferable but that this does not appear to be possible in the case of NI. As a result, she is satisfied that ‘In the world of Eureka Street, a reified pseudoauthenticity or ‘reconstructed ethnicity’, while offering amusing possibilities for assessing aspects of consumerism, nonetheless remains preferable to the ‘real thing’, if the real thing remains a legitimated cultural or political nationalism.’99 But of course, it can be most safely assumed that the protagonists of tours such as those organised by Coiste are not in any sense ironically self-aware. Their presentation of the Gaeltacht Quarter relates much more closely to the vision articulated by former Irish republican prisoner Seán Lynch in his interview with fellow ex-prisoner Laurence McKeown,100 than to the post-modern posturing of Chuckie Lurgan. Thus, when The Rough Guide to Ireland informs tourists that their encounter with the Irish language in Belfast touches upon the raw material of the recent conflict, what it actually means is: ‘In the North, the rise in the use of Irish has been both cultural and political: in the 1970s Republican prisoners began to learn Irish, though owing to the insular nature of its usage and the lack of professional teaching, it mutated into a kind of pidgin that was known as jailic.’101 The term /jailtacht/ is used with intentional irony in one particular context, referring to the language of young adult learners of Irish as a second language. The word /jailtacht/ is used when it is clear that it is the official Gaeltacht they have in mind. A browse through online discussion groups, blogs and social network sites will quickly uncover many instances of use in this

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 173

04/04/2012 16:17

174 Jailtacht

particular context. The phenomenon is perfectly illustrated in the online conversations of ‘Sinéad’,102 ‘Gormley’,103 ‘Steph CreaNer’104 and ‘Kevy Devine’,105 for example: ‘Sinéad’ sean™

29 Jun 2007 14:16



I dunno Sophie!!!!! I couldn’t think of anything else!!!! Have a good time at the Gaeltacht!!

Sinéad

29 Jun 2007 00:03



SSSUUPPP TO YOO!! When’s the Jailtacht? (as Meavis used to call it!) LOL I’m bored …



My song is hOTTER than yourss! LOL jksjks



I’m bored once again …



I’m going to the airport now … To pick up my Granny, and my Auntie and two cousinss … And preety sure we’re late!!



:S :S :S :S



xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

sean™

23 Jun 2007 13:14



Hi Sophie!!!! This is so weird and confusing!!! Kinda like youtube but I prefer bebo!! So aon scéal?

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 174

04/04/2012 16:17

Ideology 175

‘Gormley’ Gormley: Poor Gorms has suffered a lot in the years I’ve known him. My constant annoying him with all the questions I ask him probably contributes a fair bit to that. But what’s contributed more I’d say would be Baxters arguments with him. By now you’ll have realised that Baxter argues a lot. Not only does he do it a lot but he really enjoys doing it. Well enough about Conor B. (‘Conor!?’ you say? Well yes that is his actual name.) Gorms has had a lot of pranks done unto him but recently he’s been getting his own back on the world in terms of practical jokes mostly at the Jailtacht. Baxter would say he’s getting too big for his boots in that respect.

‘Steph CreaNer’ Steph CreaNer wellwell wen u off 2 jailtacht>>!! we gta meet afore den! jus 2 let u know! hahah sooooo ne goss! grr i was lookin in de shop yest and saw ya dads acc book! GIANTIC hahahha! ahh and it says tnx 2 u for beign quiet ha sooooooooo u! xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Surie Your food has been posted I really hope it gets there Enjoy the gaeltacht! ‘Kevy Devine’ Kevy Devine: […] an jailtacht???? hmmm níl mé ag dúil leis mar 1) tá mo ghluais chomh górtaithe 2) níl airgead agam 3) tá mo chluiche craoibhe ag tarlú i lár an cúrsa d just kill me now!!!! lol tb x

One anonymous author has even posted a ‘Jailtacht short story’ online.106 The first lines of this story capture the essence of the work: ‘Le soleille brille dans la ciel bleue. No, hang on a sec, that wasn’t it. Lá brea a b’ea é – yeah, that was more like it. Their bus had finally arrived at its destination, the first stop in the alien world of the Connemara Gaeltacht’. Quite simply, it is about the experience of many young people of school age in Ireland who are sent by their parents to residential courses in the Gaeltacht during the summer holidays. The intention is that they improve their Irish language skills whilst there. Many of

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 175

04/04/2012 16:17

176 Jailtacht

these young people are not overly enthusiastic about either being in the rural and allegedly dull confines of the Gaeltacht or about learning Irish. There is a sense of jovial compulsion and confinement about the experience, hence the use of the term /jailtacht/ in this context. Interestingly, I have come across instances of the use of the term /gaoltacht/ in similar contexts and with the very same implied meaning. ‘Shell C’107 and ‘Sarah Keating’108 offer very good examples of this: Shell C : hello darling!! ceann tra??? miss college, i do indeedy but lookin forward to the gaoltacht now. Roll on may 31st!! hows ur summer ag dul so far? xxx xxx … Sarah Keating : god i miss da gaoltacht its been a week taday dat we were on our way home ahhhhhhhhhhh”!! wb xxxxxxxxxxxxlv u. 3 weeks ago. Laurie Castro sup2u Hey sexy! …

Clearly, it is understood to carry the same implication as /jailtacht/. It makes linguistic sense too in so far as /gaol/ is identical to /jail/ in meaning. However, this is quite intriguing as I have no record of any of the prisoners or former prisoners of HMP Long Kesh using the term /gaoltacht/. Several other commentators suggest that the term appears to have originated amongst the Irish-speaking Irish republican prison community in that jail. For example, Ó Dochartaigh asserts that ‘the punning epithet Gaoltacht or Jailtacht is used to refer to the new norm of this group, due to its origins among Republicans held in the prisons of NI since the 1970s.’109 Shovlin suggests that the early twentieth century Irish literatus Seán O’Faoláin may have been using the term in his 1926 article ‘The Gaoltacht tradition’ in order to suggest some criticism of the Gaeltacht policies of successive governments of the emergent Irish Republic: ‘While misspelling “Gaeltacht” as “Gaoltacht” may simply be a typographical error, it seems likely, given the negative tone of the article and O’Faoláin’s fluency in Gaelic, that he was playing on the English word “Gaol”.’110 Most recently of all, Corcoran, in her study of female Irish republican prisoners explains /gaoltacht/ as follows: Anderson’s point about the constructed nature of cultural memory and identity does not explain the emergence of a Gaoltacht as a space of political or cultural revival, but also its role as an expression of separatist power. The ‘Gaoltacht’ took its name from combining the arcane English word for prison ‘gaol’, with the Gaelic suffix ‘-tacht’ (place) to signifiy a unique Irish cultural colony within an occupied territory. Within this ‘zone’ Republican prisoners organized self-instruction in the Irish Gaelic language, Irish history, political theory and operational training. Although communicating

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 176

04/04/2012 16:17

Ideology 177 through the Irish language was a useful tool for intelligence to be transmitted without being intercepted by staff, its usage also connoted resistance.111

Most recently, O’Connor describes /gaoltacht/ as a ‘macaronic neologism – a pun on ‘gaol’ or ‘jail’ and ‘Gael’’.112 I suspect that Ó Dochartaigh, Shovlin, Corcoran and O’Connor are barking up the wrong tree in their presentations of the term /gaoltacht/. The Irish republican material I have seen simply uses /jailtacht/ and I have yet to come across an Irish republican source that uses /gaoltacht/. Moreover, the term /gaoltacht/ actually was, and to some extent continues to be, not uncommonly used as a variant spelling of /gaeltacht/, for example Mühlhausen’s 1933 paper entitled ‘Contributions to the Study of the Tangible Material Culture of the Gaoltacht’,113 or the work of Irish language broadcaster Peadar Ó Ríada on the Muscraighe Gaoltacht, the Irish-speaking area where he lives.114 Similarly, /Gaolainn/ (meaning ‘the Irish language’) is simply a perfectly usual dialectic alternative to /Gaeilge/.115 Seen in this light, O’Faoláin’s orthography is rather unremarkable. It is safe to conclude that the term /gaoltacht/ is not an Irish republican invention. Conclusions The Irish language is not merely a symbolic tool in the political armoury of Irish republicanism, it is much more than that. The language is fertile ground for many actors, each of whom is seeking to assert that their own ideological position is coherent and meaningful while, at the same time, claiming that the views of their opponents are inarticulate and contradictory. For example, the grammatical conflict over Jailic and Sinn Féin Irish isn’t about linguistic correctness at all but is shorthand for claiming that the proponents of Jailic style are political hypocrites – if you can’t trust them with grammar then what can you trust them with! Former members of the Jailtacht have countered this accusation of inauthenticity, of being Irish language charlatans. They have constructed a sense of their own tradition in the language ‘faoi ghlas’. Contemporary Irish republicans can lay valid claim to some powerful historical players who have both political and linguistic pedigrees; Máirtín Ó Cadhain is the prime exemplar. The joins in the architecture of this tradition are obvious. It is quite instructive that the connection to the legal notion of the hunger strike in medieval Ireland was first made by W. B. Yeats and that it was the journalist David Beresford, of the English-based newspaper The Guardian, who made the reconnection with Yeats’s work. The emergence of Ulster Scots has brought another irony to the fore. Some loyalists and unionists claim that Irish republicans are using the Irish language as a ‘weapon of exclusion’ and yet it is they who are using Ulster Scots as a zero-sum device in bringing a ‘culture war’ to republicans. It can be said that the Irish language is becoming ever more

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 177

04/04/2012 16:17

178 Jailtacht

visible as a political lightning rod. The Gaeltacht Quarter can be read as the commodification of that. And yet, the playful use of /jailtacht/ by the new postconflict generation suggests that the political ire may be beginning to evolve into something else, less threatening.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 178

04/04/2012 16:17

7 Conclusions I know they’re strong and can invade and kill anyone. But they can’t break or occupy my word.1 Is mise Stoc na Cille. Éistear le mo ghlór. Caithfear éisteacht… (I am the Graveyard Stock. Hear my voice. It must be heard … )2

Language and the Symbolic Terrain in Terrorism Our lives in ‘the West’ have recently been jarringly punctuated by a series of unanticipated, dramatic and traumatic events of extreme political violence, viz. the attacks on the Twin Towers in New York and the Pentagon in Washington DC in 2001, the Estación de Atocha in Madrid in 2004 and the Underground in London in 2005. Our response has largely been one of incomprehension and fear. Incomprehension that someone would choose to engineer such horrific events and fear that such deadly horror was not foreseen and cannot be forestalled. The limited nature of our response is cloaked by a pseudo-scientific or quasi-mathematical shorthand which implies a rational engagement with these events – we think we know exactly what 9/11, 11-M and 7/7 ‘mean’. Together they comprise the narrative of our global-political zeitgeist. For some academic commentators, 9/11 heralded a ‘new’ form of terrorism, novel in its scale, its use of new technologies, its manipulation of information and communications media, and also novel in its break with those modernist ideologies (nationalism, Marxism) which characterise the ‘old’ form of terrorism.3 While others are more circumspect to varying degrees,4 there is a widespread consensus that the intellectual landscape has shifted quite dramatically. 9/11 was, and remains, an earthquake. Because of it, the symbolic event is now fashionably centre stage in the contemporary academic literature on political terror. However, I think that this needs to be problematised. The symbolic element in the contemporary form of terrorism is characterised in terms of its newness, its theatricality and, ultimately, its potency. Baudrillard argues that it works on the symbolic level because the language of the event is that of the ‘live’ televisual image – 9/11 is a ‘Manhattan disaster movie’.5 It derives its terrible meaning, however, from the reality of its fatality which is peculiarly passive and innocent, or as Baudrillard puts it, ‘sacrificial’: ‘Here, then, it is all about death, not only about the violent irruption of death in real time – “live”, so to speak – but the irruption of a death which is far

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 179

04/04/2012 16:17

180 Jailtacht

more than real: a death which is symbolic and sacrificial – that is to say, the absolute, irrevocable event. This is the spirit of terrorism.’6 Thus, while the violence has been real, it is removed to the symbolic sphere where it becomes a ‘singularity’.7 Despite the fact that contrasting meanings are often claimed for the notion of the singularity in cultural criticism, economics, literary fiction and philosophy,8 it can be understood as an irreducible and unique discontinuity, redolent with radical and revolutionary potential, according to postmodern thought. Some academics working in the Anglo-Saxon philosophical tradition concur, in a sense, with the argument that the contemporary form of terrorism has located its battlefront in this symbolic realm, beyond the reality of its violence. Richmond, for example, argues that it is beyond war and that it seeks to win its struggle through the manipulation of symbol: Terrorism in its contemporary form can perhaps be described as ‘beyond war’ in these terms, in the sense that although it aims at material injury, its key objective is to impact the virtual, to undermine the belief in the virtuous on behalf of the victim, to attack the symbolic, and to undermine the very assumptions of the target population […] Ultimately, terrorism has become a symbolic act, albeit dangerous, but one that tries to undermine assumptions about security, and related norms, but does not realistically expect an overall victory.9 The global symbol is its [‘symbolic war’ ‘symbolic conflict’ of contemporary forms of terrorism] theatre, and it operates at the level of the symbolic and the assumed. By attacking the valued symbols and assumptions of the hegemon its impact in this global era is akin to the fall or gain of strongholds or territories in the imperial era. If non-state and terrorist actors cannot win ‘real’ war, they feel they might be able to win these symbolic conflicts.10

But the symbolic element has always been a part of terrorism.11 Prime examples of this would include the kidnapping of Israeli athletes by Black September during the Munich Olympics in 1972 and the Palestine Liberation Front hijacking of the cruise liner, MS Achille Lauro, in 1985. Nef, writing in the aftermath of the latter event and prior to 9/11, confirms as much: ‘The essence of terrorism is that it is always related to semantics and psychological warfare. It is a form of symbolic politics […] an act of terrorism like a bombing or torture is meant to convey a brutal and immoral symbolism.’12 Therefore, the symbolic element is not new; it has merely been renewed. A central purpose of this book has been to illustrate and explain such renewal by means of a detailed examination of the relationship between Irish

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 180

04/04/2012 16:17

conclusions 181

republican (ex)prisoners and the Irish language, culminating in the development of a distinctive form of the language, namely Jailic style. At this point the reader ought to bear in mind that Baudrillard regards language in general as a singularity. This is a useful position to adopt as it causes us to consider Jailic style as potent in the symbolic sense, as well as the linguistic. While its quality as an irreducible and unique discontinuity is defined linguistically, its radical and revolutionary potential derives from its symbolic function as a peculiarly and self-consciously debased form of the Irish language. This case study of language and political violence has allowed us to trace the realisation of Jailic style from the point of the appropriation of the Irish language by Irish republican prisoners, through the transformative experience of long-term and highly politicised incarceration, to the emergence of the language as a defining feature of the jus post bellum discourse in Northern Ireland. As a result of this process, and in particular the sociological experience of prison that was so fundamental in moulding it, the language issue has become the principal means of articulating the contestation which is still at the heart of political society in Northern Ireland. This suggests that the symbolic violence of language, as Bourdieu13 would put it, has become a proxy for political violence. The descriptive capacity of the original French, and its English translation, however, is somewhat inadequate with regard to labelling this very peculiar function of language. Bourdieu uses both ‘pouvoir symbolique’ and ‘violence symbolique’ while the English translation uses ‘symbolic power’ and, to a lesser extent, ‘symbolic violence’. But the terms ‘power’ and ‘violence’ are rather pejorative and therefore vulnerable to misreadings. In the case of Jailic style, that which Bourdieu would describe as the symbolic violence or power of language is much more nuanced than the crude force of a dominant and oppressive political will. It could be argued that Bourdieu’s failure to settle upon a single term to describe this function of language indicates that he too was slightly dissatisfied with the options available to him in French. His English editors and translators find it necessary to explain ‘pouvoir symbolique’ and ‘violence symbolique’. What is required is a term that unambiguously captures the myriad senses of power and violence – but especially the senses of capacity and action, and of hegemonic struggle. Ideally, such a word would also be a workable descriptor of the qualities of language. These meanings are encompassed by the Irish language noun /treise/: treise. 1. f. (gs. ~). Strength, power, dominance; force, emphasis. Le ~ lámh, by main force. ~ thola, strength of will. Gabh said ~ orainn, they gained supremacy over us. ~ a chur le cás, to strengthen a case. ~ a chur le do ghuth, to speak in a louder voice. ~ a chur ar fhocal, to emphasize a word. ~ leat! More power to you! 2 : TRÉAN. (Var. of 1: ~acht f)14

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 181

04/04/2012 16:17

182 Jailtacht

In this case study, treise means the dramatic changes imposed upon the Irish language by the Irish republican (ex)prisoners, the effect upon society of their use of the language whilst in prison and upon their release, the resistance of their principal political opponents to the public presence of the language, but also the potential of the language to attract allegiance from across political divisions. More generally, the term communicates the essense of ‘pouvoir symbolique’ and ‘violence symbolique’ but it also captures the sense of power as an enabling capacity, a quality of power that was crucially pointed out by Founcault (various) and further elaborated upon by Giddens15 for an AngloSaxon audience. It combines the possibility of action as either, or perhaps in some circumstances both, non-physical and physical. A Celtic cousin of treise is /trais/, a Welsh language word meaning ‘violence’, ‘aggression’, ‘force’ and ‘rape’ but it lacks the other meanings bound up in treise. In addition, the term treise specifically describes linguistic behaviour with the quality of emphasis. Strength, power and dominance are not necessarily related to physical violence or force and treise successfully evokes this subtlety. Finally, the fact that treise is an Irish language term, and is not from a global or post-imperial tongue, may perhaps invoke senses of alterity, a quality which is implicit to all struggles. Some policy actors consider it a virtue to, as they see it, depoliticise the Irish language in Northern Ireland. For example, shortly after his appointment as the Chair of Foras na Gaeilge, Liam Ó Maolmhichíl asserted the following: Tá glúin nua linn agus cúraimí nua orthu. Ó tharla na hathruithe sa pholaitíocht ó thuaidh tá daoine ag moladh athmhachnamh a dhéanamh ar na cuspóirí atá againn mar náisiún. Is ceist í sin do gach eagraíocht. Ceapaim go bhfuil sé tábhachtach a thaispeáint go bhfuil an Ghaeilge mar chuid d’oidhreacht a bhaineann le gach duine sa tír seo agus nach rud polaitiúil í. Glacaim go bhfuil sin deacair mar, na daoine atá ag plé le Gaeilge is náisiúnóirí de shaghas amháin nó eile a mórchuid. Bheadh sé ina chúram mór ag an bhForas ó thaobh an Tuaiscirt a thaispeáint do dhaoine nach mbeadh báúil leis an nGaeilge gur rud a bhaineann le hoidhreacht í seachas rud polaitiúl. Sin an fáth gur cuireadh an Foras ar bhonn trasteorainn mar gur ceapadh go bhféadfaí an nasc sin a chur i bhfeidhm de réir a chéile16 (We have a new generation and new responsibilities. Since the political changes in the North people have recommended reflecting upon our aims as a nation. This is a question for each organisation. I think that it is important to show that the Irish language, as a part of our heritage, belongs to every person in this country and that it isn’t a political object. I understand that that is difficult as the people

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 182

04/04/2012 16:17

conclusions 183 who deal with the Irish language are, largely, nationalists of one sort or another. It would be a great responsibility of Foras na Gaeilge in the North to show to people who have no relationship with the Irish language that it is about heritage rather than politics. That is why Foras na Gaeilge has been created on a cross-border basis as it is thought that gradually this bond can be brought into being).

That is to miss the most important thing about the Irish language in Northern Ireland – it is politics, and as long as Jailic style remains a recognisable linguistic form, its potency in that respect will not be readily dimmed. In her preface to the posthumous publication of the diaries of the Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish, Ruth Patel makes the claim that language is ‘the thing that an occupied people have left to them when all else fails’.17 Darwish himself, perhaps less restricted by the western liberal values that shape Patel’s worldview, is much more direct in articulating the sense of violence and of the struggle for power which language makes real, when he says that his enemies cannot ‘break or occupy’ his words.18 Put simply, language is too powerful a tool not to be political.

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 183

04/04/2012 16:17

2-Jailtacht chapters.indd 184

04/04/2012 16:17

Notes 1  Introduction 1 Noam Chomsky, Language and Responsibilty (London: Routledge, 1979), p. 191. 2 p. 23 in J. B. Thompson (ed.), ‘Editor’s introduction’, in P. Bourdieu, Language and Symbolic Power (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1991), pp. 1–31. 3 P. G. in T. Honderich (ed.), The Oxford Companion to Philosophy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995), p. 900. 4 Northern Ireland Assembly – Official Report, Irish Language, http://www. niassembly.gov.uk.record/reports2007/071009.htm (9 October 2007, accessed 16 October 2007) and also Northern Ireland Assembly – Official Report, Ministerial Statement. Outcome of Proposed Irish Language Legislation Consultation Process, http://www.niassembly.gov.uk.record/reports2007/071016.htm (16 October 2007, accessed on 3 November 2007). 5 Peter Robinson quoted in ‘DUP fights back against “erosion of Britishness”’, The Newsletter, http://www.newsletter.co.uk/politics/DUP-fights-back-against39erosion.4219485.jp (25 June 2008, accessed 6 January 2009). 6 Diarmait Mac Giolla Chríost, The Irish Language in Ireland: From Goídel to Globalisation (London: Routledge, 2005). 7 Jean Baudrillard, The Spirit of Terrorism (London: Verso, 2003); T. Copeland, ‘Is the “New Terrorism” really new?’, The Journal of Conflict Studies, 21/2 (2001), 7–27; M. Crenshaw, ‘Theories of terrorism: instrumental and organizational approaches’, in D. Rapoport (ed.), Inside Terrorist Organisations (London: Routledge, 2001), pp. 13–31; Donatella Della Porta, Social Movements, Political Violence and the State: a Comparative Analysis of Italy and Germany (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006); Richmond, O. P., ‘Realizing hegemony? Symbolic terrorism and the roots of conflict’, Studies in Conflict and Terrorism, 26 (2003), 289–309; Slavoj Žižek, Welcome to the Desert of the Real (London: Verso, 2002). 8 Victor Jupp, Methods of Criminological Research (London: Allen and Unwin, 1989); Raymond Lee, Dangerous Fieldwork (London: Sage, 1995). 9 Gerry Adams, Cage Eleven (Dingle: Brandon Books, 2002, first edition 1992); Gerry Adams, The Politics of Irish Freedom (Dublin: Brandon, 1986). 10 Brian Campbell, Laurence McKeown and Felim O’Hagan (eds), Nor Meekly Serve My Time: The H-Block Struggle 1976–1981 (Belfast: Beyond the Pale Publications, 1994).

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 185

04/04/2012 16:20

186 Jailtacht 11 Alan Andrew Longwell, The Maze Community: A Study of the Interaction between Staff and Prisoners and the Redistribution of Power and Control (unpublished MPhil thesis, the Queen’s University Belfast, 1998). 12 L. McKeown, ‘Jailtacht/Gaeltacht’, Cascando: The National Student Literary Magazine (1996), 43–9; Laurence McKeown, Unrepentant Fenian Bastards: The Social Construction of an Irish Republican Prisoner Community (unpublished PhD thesis, the Queen’s University Belfast, 1998); Laurence McKeown, Out of Time: Irish Republican Prisoners Long Kesh 1972–2000 (Belfast: Beyond the Pale Publications, 2001). 13 Declan Moen, An Examination of the Effect of Imprisonment on Irish Political Prisoners (unpublished MSc thesis, the University of Ulster, 1998); D. Moen, ‘Irish political prisoners and post hunger-strike resistance to criminalisation’, British Criminology Conference: Selected Proceedings, 3 (2000), http://www.lboro.ac.uk/ departments/ss/bsc/bccsp/vol03/moen.html (n.d., accessed 12 à 2007). 14 Danny Morrison, Then the Walls Came Down: A Prison Journal (Cork: Mercier Press, 1999). 15 Richard O’Rawe, Blanketmen: An Untold Story of the H-Block Hunger Strike (Dublin: New Island, 2005). 16 Chris Ryder, Inside the Maze: The Untold Story of the Northern Ireland Prison Service (London: Methuen, 2000). 17 Donovan Wylie (ed.), The Maze (London: Granta Books, 2004). 18 http://.cain.ulst.ac.uk. 19 Nik Coupland (ed.), Styles of Discourse (London: Croom Helm, 1988); Nik Coupland, Style: Language Variation and Identity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007). 20 Michael Alexander Kirkwood (M.A.K.) Halliday, Language as Social Semiotic: The Social Interpretation of Language and Meaning (London: Edward Arnold, 1978). 21 Adam Jaworski, The Power of Silence (London: Sage, 1993). 22 Judith Butler, Excitable Speech: A Politics of Performative (New York: Routledge, 1997). 23 Gilles Deleuze, Difference and Repetition (London: The Athlone Press, 1994). 24 Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1980). 25 Adam Jaworski and Crispin Thurlow (eds), Semiotic Landscapes: Language, Image, Space (London: Continuum, 2010). 26 Peter Backhaus, Linguistic Landscapes: A Comparative Study of Urban Multilingualism in Tokyo (Clevedon: Multilingual Matters, 2007); Dirk Gorter (ed.), Linguistic Landscape: A New Approach to Multilingualism (Clevedon: Multilingual Matters, 2006). 27 Jan Blommaert, Discourse: A Critical Introduction (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005); Theo Van Leeuwen, Discourse and Practice: New Tools for Critical Analysis (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008).

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 186

04/04/2012 16:20

notes 187 28 Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison (London: Allen Lane, 1977); M. Foucault, ‘Prison talk’, in C. Gordon (ed.), Power/Knowledge (New York: Pantheon, 1980), pp. 37–54. 29 Antonio Gramsci, Selections from the Prison Notebooks (London: Lawrence and Wishart, 1971). 30 Pierre Bourdieu, Language and Symbolic Power (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1991). 31 S. Brouillette, ‘Struggle tourism and Northern Ireland’s culture industries: the case of Robert McLiam Wilson’, Textual Practice, 20/2 (2006), 333–53; S. Brouillette, ‘On not safeguarding the cultural heritage’, Irish Studies Review, 15/3 (2007), 317–31. 32 Stanley Cohen and Laurie Taylor, Psychological Survival: The Experience of Long-Term Imprisonment (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1972); Roger Matthews, Doing Time: An Introduction to the Sociology of Imprisonment (Houndmills: Macmillan, 1999); Phil Scraton, Joe Sim and Paula Skidmore, Prisons under Protest (Milton Keynes: Open University Press, 1991); Richard Sparks, Anthony E. Bottoms and Will Hay, Prisons and the Problem of Order (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996); Gresham M. Sykes, The Society of Captives: A Study of a Maximum Security Prison (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1958); Hans Toch, Living in Prison: The Ecology of Survival (Hyattsville: American Psychological Association, 1992); Edward Zamble and Frank J. Porporino, Coping, Behaviour and Adaptation in Prison Inmates (New York: Springer-Verlag, 1988). 33 Mary S. Corcoran, Out Of Order: The Political Imprisonment Of Women In Northern Ireland 1972–98 (Abingdon: Willan Publishing, 2006); Allen Feldman, Formations of Violence: The Narrative of the Body and Political Terror in Northern Ireland (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991); Sean O’Mahony, S., Frongoch: University of Revolution (Killiney: FDR Teoranta, 1987); Sean McConville, Irish Political Prisoners, 1848–1922: Theatres of War (London: Routledge, 2003); Kevin McEvoy, Paramilitary Imprisonment in Northern Ireland: Resistance, Management, and Release (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001); B. Rolston and M. Tomlinson (1986) ‘Long-term imprisonment in Northern Ireland: psychological or political survival?’, in B. Rolston and M. Tomlinson (eds) The Expansion of the European Prison System (Belfast: European Group for the Study of Deviance and Social Control, 1986), pp. 162–83; Pete Shirlow, Brian Graham, Kevin McEvoy, Féilim Ó hAdhmaill and Dawn Purvis, Politically Motivated Former Prisoner Groups: Community Activism and Conflict Transformation: A Research Report Submitted to the Northern Ireland Community Relations Council August 2005 (unpublished report, 2005). 34 Baudrillard, Spirit of Terrorism; Bruce Hoffman, Inside Terrorism (London: Weidenfeld and Nicholson, 1998); Mary Kaldor, New and Old Wars: Organised Violence in a Global Era (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1999); Walter Laqueur, The New Terrorism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999); Paul Virilio, Ground Zero (London: Verso, 2002); Žižek, Desert of the Real.

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 187

04/04/2012 16:20

188 Jailtacht 35 Copeland, Journal of Conflict Studies; A. Hussey, ‘The game of war’, The New Statesman http://www.newstatesman.com/200209090034 (9 September 2002); Richmond, Studies in Conflict and Terrorism; D. Tucker, ‘What is new about the new terrorism and how dangerous is it?’, Terrorism and Political Violence 13/3 (2001), 1–14. 36 Bourdieu, Language and Symbolic Power. 37 John D. Brewer and Kathleen Magee, Inside the RUC: Routine Policing in a Divided Society (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991); Joseph William Graham Ellison, Professionalism in the Royal Ulster Constabulary: An Examination of the Institutional Discourse (unpublished PhD thesis, the University of Ulster, 1997). 38 John D. Brewer, ‘Sensitivity as a problem in field research: A study of routine policing in Northern Ireland’, in C. Rezetti and R. Lee (eds), Researching Sensitive Topics (Newbury Park: Sage, 1993), pp. 125–45; Lee, Dangerous Fieldwork; Jeffrey A. Sluka, ‘Participant observation in violent social contexts’, Human Organization 49 (1990), 114–26. 39 Jupp, Methods of Criminological Research. 40 Feldman, Formations of Violence; McEvoy, Paramilitary Imprisonment in Northern Ireland; Shirlow et al., Politically Motivated Former Prisoner Groups. 41 John D. Brewer and Gareth I. Higgins, Anti-Catholicism in Northern Ireland 1600–1998: The Mote and the Beam (London: Macmillan, 1998). 42 R. Jenkins, ‘Bringing it all back home: An anthropologist in Belfast’, in C. Bell and H. Roberts (eds), Social Researching: Politics, Problems, Practice (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1984), pp. 147–64; Jim McAuley, The Politics of Identity: A Loyalist Community in Belfast (Aldershot: Avebury, 1994). 43 McEvoy, Paramilitary Imprisonment in Northern Ireland; Shirlow et al., Politically Motivated Former Prisoner Groups. 44 McKeown, Unrepentant Fenian Bastards, pp. 88–9. 45 p. 187 in F. Jameson, ‘Beyond the cave: demystifying the ideology of modernism’, reproduced in M. Handt and K. Weeks (eds), The Jameson Reader (Oxford: Blackwell, 2000, originally published 1975), pp. 175–87. 46 Plato, The Republic, Book VII ∫7, 514a–515b: 256–7. 47 http://www.bloody-sunday-inquiry.org.uk/. 48 p. 150 in Gordon McCoy, ‘Protestants and the Irish language in Belfast’, in F. de Brún (ed.), Belfast and the Irish language (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2006), pp. 147–76. 49 p. 64 in Charles McGlinchey, The Last of the Name. Edited and with an Introduction by Brian Friel (Belfast: Blackstaff Press, 1986).

2 Chronology 1 Ed Moloney quoted on p. 195 in Tony Crowley, War of Words: The Politics of Language in Ireland 1537–2004 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005).

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 188

04/04/2012 16:20

notes 189 2 McKeown, Unrepentant Fenian Bastards, p. 25. 3 Sean J. [S. J.] Connolly (ed.), The Oxford Companion to Irish History (Oxford University Press: Oxford, 1998), p. 261. 4 Séanna Walsh quoted in S. Walsh and F. Mac Ionnrachtaigh, ‘Radical plan for language revival outlined: Irish is central to republican struggle’, An Phoblacht/ Republican News, http://www.anphoblacht.com/news/print/12288 (8 December 2005, accessed 21 September 2007). 5 Denis O’Hearn, Bobby Sands: Nothing but an Unfinished Song (London: Pluto Press, 2006), p. 56. 6 From the anonymous Irish republican publication Prison Struggle: The Story of Continuing Resistance Behind the Wire (Belfast: Republican Press Centre, 1977), p. 35. 7 Anonymous, Prison Struggle, p. 35. 8 Feargal Mac Ionnrachtaigh, An Ghaeilge Faoi Ghlas: Príosúnaigh Pholaitiúla Éireannacha agus an Ghaeilge (unpublished MA thesis, the Queen’s University Belfast, 2003). 9 Mac Ionnrachtaigh, An Ghaeilge Faoi Ghlas, p. 22. 10 Mac Ionnrachtaigh, An Ghaeilge Faoi Ghlas, p. 22. 11 Feldman, Formation of Violence, p. 296. 12 Longwell, The Maze Community. 13 http://www.cain.ulst.ac.uk/events/hstrike/chronology.htm (accessed 12 January 2009). 14 E. O’Dwyer, ‘Remembering 1981: Former hunger striker Laurence McKeown’s story’, An Phoblacht: Sinn Féin Weekly, http://www.anphoblacht.com/news/ detail/14079 (4 May 2006, accessed 12 January 2009). 15 McKeown, Unrepentant Fenian Bastards, p. 144. 16 According to Anthony Babington, The Power to Silence: A History of Punishment in Britain (London: Maxwell, 1968) a central function of incarceration is to silence the prisoners as a form of punishment and as a means of imposing the discipline of the prison regime upon them. 17 Jackie McMullan (H-6) interview in Campbell et al., Nor Meekly Serve My Time, p. 18. 18 Mac Ionnrachtaigh, An Ghaeilge faoi Ghlas, pp. 24–5. 19 McKeown, Unrepentant Fenian Bastards, p. 162. 20 Mac Ionnrachtaigh, An Ghaeilge faoi Ghlas, p. 29. 21 Irish republican prisoner (IRA) interview in Feldman, Formations of Violence, pp. 213–4. 22 Mac Ionnrachtaigh, An Ghaeilge faoi Ghlas, pp. 28–9. 23 p. 2 in P. Whelan, ‘Irish on the blanket’, in F. O’Hagan (ed.), Eirí na Gealaí – Reflections on the Culture of Resistance in Long Kesh (Belfast: Sinn Féin, 1991), pp. 2–5.

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 189

04/04/2012 16:20

190 Jailtacht 24 Kevin Campbell interview in Campbell et al., Nor Meekly Serve My Time, p. 48. 25 Bobby Sands, Writings from Prison (Cork: Mercier Press, 1998), p. 42. 26 Gearóid Mac Siacais interview in Mac Ionnrachtaigh, An Ghaelige faoi Ghlas, p. 31. 27 Brendan McFarlane interview reproduced at http://11sixtynine.blogsome. com/2005/07/ (accessed 22 February 2009). 28 O’Rawe, Blanketmen: An Untold Story, p. 201. 29 Anonymous, Faoi Ghlas ag Gaill (Belfast: Gaeil Bhéal Feirste in Éadan H-Bloc agus Ard Mhaca, 1981). 30 McKeown, Unrepentant Fenian Bastards, pp. 161–2. 31 L. Friel, ‘We who believe in freedom’, An Phoblacht/Republican News, http:// republican-news.org/archive/1998/June18/18hs.html (18 June 1998, accessed 21 September 2007). 32 Whelan, Irish on the Blanket, p. 2. 33 Whelan, Irish on the Blanket, p. 2–3. 34 Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 43. 35 Irish republican prisoner (IRA) interview in Feldman, Formations of Violence, p. 207. 36 Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 30. 37 Irish republican prisoner (IRA) interview in Feldman, Formations of Violence, p. 184. 38 Gerry Adams, ‘Foreword’ in Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 11. 39 David Beresford, Ten Men Dead: The Story of the 1981 Irish Hunger Strike (London: HarperCollins Publishers, 1987), p. 30. 40 McKeown, Unrepentant Fenian Bastards, pp. 151–2. 41 Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 39. 42 Sands, Writings from Prison, pp. 67–8. 43 Jaz McCann interview in Campbell et al., Nor Meekly Serve My Time, p. 30. 44 Seosamh Cnamh, ‘The struggle in the “Jailteacht”’, An Phoblacht/Republican News (25 July 1985), p. 9. 45 Cnamh, The Struggle in the ‘Jailteacht’, p. 9. 46 pp. 18–19 in E. Mac Cormaic, ‘Séanadh ceart cultúrtha sa Jailtacht’, in F. O’Hagan (ed.), Eirí na Gealaí – Reflections on the Culture of Resistance in Long Kesh (Belfast: Sinn Féin, 1991), pp. 17–19. 47 p. 188 in B. Rolston and M. Tomlinson, ‘The challenge within: prisons and propaganda in Northern Ireland’, in Tomlinson, M., Varley, T. and McCullagh, C. (eds), Whose Law and Order? (Belfast: The Sociological Association of Ireland, 1988), pp. 167–92. 48 Mac Cormaic, Séanadh ceart cultúrtha sa Jailtacht.

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 190

04/04/2012 16:20

notes 191 49 Mac Cormaic, Séanadh ceart cultúrtha sa Jailtacht, p. 17. 50 David Francis Fanning, Irish Republican Literature 1968–1998: ‘Standing on the Threshold of Another Trembling World’ (unpublished PhD thesis, Ohio State University, 2003). Lachlan Whalen, Contemporary Irish Republican Prison Writing: Writing and Resistance (Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008). 51 Mac Giolla Chríost, The Irish Language in Ireland, pp. 134–71. 52 McKeown, Unrepentant Fenian Bastards, pp. 308–10. 53 McKeown, Unrepentant Fenian Bastards, p. 320. 54 McKeown, Unrepentant Fenian Bastards, p. 21. 55 Gearóid Mac Aoidh, Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige (unpublished Irish republican prisoners’ discussion paper, 1996). 56 Jimmy P. McAllister, Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige: An Adult Learning Project based in Long Kesh Prison from May 1995 (unpublished undergraduate essay, the Open University, 1997). 57 A slightly later Irish republican source (de Faoite, 1998) suggests that Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige was first established in H-7: […] ba mhór an bród ar dhaoine nuair a bunaíodh an ‘Jailtacht’ Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige trí bhliain ó shin i mBloc H7. (People were enormously proud when the ‘Jailtacht’ Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige was founded three years ago in Block 7.). Another source, a response posted on the Slugger O’Toole Blog by ‘Fuiseog’ on October 23 2006 suggests that H-5 was the location. As Mac Aoidh and McAllister were written in the H-Blocks at that time it is reasonable to afford them greater accuracy. 58 Anonymous, Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige (unpublished Irish republican prisoners’ discussion paper, 1995?). 59 Anonymous, Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige, p. 3. 60 Anonymous, Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige, p. 3. 61 Mac Aoidh, Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige, p. 2. 62 McAllister, Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige, p. 3. 63 McAllister, Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige, pp. 8–9. 64 Mac Aoidh, Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige, pp. 2–3. 65 Former Irish republican prisoner Tarlac Ó Conghalaigh, personal correspondence with the author 2009. 66 ‘Fuiseog’, no title, http://sluggerotoole.com/index.php/weblog/comments/ tough_questions_for_sinn_feins_ard_fheis/P50/, posted 23 October 2006 (accessed 16 April 2007). 67 Northern Ireland Office, The Agreement: Agreement Reached in the MultiParty Negotiations (Belfast: HMSO, 1998). 68 Walsh quoted in Walsh and Mac Ionnrachtaigh, Radical Plan for Language Revival Outlined. 69 http://www.nuacht.com (accessed 18 December 2007).

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 191

04/04/2012 16:20

192 Jailtacht 70 Nuacht TG4, 18 December 2007. 71 Foinse, 16 December 2007, p. 11.

3 Style 1 Extract from interview with Brendan McFarlane, ex-IRA prisoner, Magill, April 1986, reproduced at http://11sixtynine.blogsome.com/2005/07/ (accessed 3 February 2008). 2 Coupland, Style, p. 19; with original emphasis. 3 Coupland, Style, p. 53. 4 E. Finegan and D. Biber, ‘Register and social dialect variation: an integrated approach’, in D. Biber and E. Finegan (eds), Sociolinguistic Perspectives on Register (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994), pp. 315–47; O. Stegen, ‘Style and sociolinguistic variation’, SIL Electronic Book Reviews 2006–005 http://www.sil.org/ silebr/2006/silebr2006-005 (2006, accessed 11 September 2008). 5 Gael A (True Type) TTGL/TTASM©F.M.O’Carroll Aberystwyth 1997. 6 Mac Giolla Chríost, The Irish Language in Ireland, pp. 122–3. 7 O’Hearn, Bobby Sands, Plate 9. 8 Adams, Cage Eleven, p. 23. 9 Adams, Cage Eleven. 10 Morrison, Then the Walls Came Down. 11 Campbell et al., Nor Meekly Serve My Time. 12 Adams, Cage Eleven, pp. 152–3. 13 Adams, Cage Eleven, p. 15. 14 Adams, Cage Eleven, pp. 16–17. 15 Niall Ó Dónaill, Foclóir Gaeilge – Béarla (Baile Átha Cliath: Oifig an tSoláthair, 1977). 16 Ó Dónaill, Foclóir Gaeilge – Béarla, p. 1046. 17 Ó Dónaill, Foclóir Gaeilge – Béarla, p. 1046. 18 Sykes, The Society of Captives, p. 85. 19 N. Awefeso, ‘Prison argot and penal discipline’, Journal of Mundane Behavior, 5/1, http://mundanebehavior.org/issues/v5n1/awofeso5-1.htm (2004, accessed 17 December 2007); I. Cardozo-Freeman, The Joint: Language and Culture in a Maximum Security Prison (Springfield, IL: Charles Thomas Publisher, 1984); T. Einat, ‘Language, culture and behaviour in prison: the Israeli case’, Asian Journal of Criminology, 1/2 (2006), 173–89; Gilbert L. Encinas, Prison Argot: A Sociolinguistic and Lexicographic Study (New York: University Press of America, 2001); M. M. Kaminski, ‘Games prisoners play: allocation of social roles in a total institution’, Rationality and Society, 15/2 (2003), 188–217. 20 Adams, Cage Eleven, pp. 150–1.

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 192

04/04/2012 16:20

notes 193 21 Ciarán Carson, The Star Factory (London: Granta, 1977), pp. 41–2. 22 p. 113 in C. McCarthy, ‘Ciaran Carson’s labyrinths’, English, 54 (2005), 99–116. 23 For example, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tiocfaidh_%C3%A1r_l%C3%A1 (posted 31 March 2010, accessed 15 September 2010). 24 Ó Dónaill, Foclóir Gaeilge – Béarla, p. 926. 25 Tadhg Mac Dhonnagáin, Ceara Conway and John Ryan (eds), Aniar: Voices and Verse from the Edge of the World. Véarsaíocht ón Traidisiún Gaelach (An Spidéal: Futa Fata, 2007), p. 47. 26 Laurence McKeown, ex-IRA prisoner, writing of period between 1976 and 1981. Laurence McKeown, Out of Time: Irish Republican Prisoners, Long Kesh 1972–2000 (Belfast: Beyond the Pale Publications, 2001), pp. 45 and 68. 27 Mac Ionnrachtaigh, An Ghaeilge faoi Ghlas, p. 29. 28 Mac Ionnrachtaigh, An Ghaeilge faoi Ghlas, p. 29. 29 Feldman, Formations of Violence, p. 214. 30 Anonymous, Prison Struggle: The Story of Continuing Resistance Behind the Wire (Belfast: Republican Press Centre, 1977). 31 Ó Dónaill, Foclóir Gaeilge – Béarla, p. 1073. 32 Anonymous, Prison Struggle, p. 35. 33 McKeown, Out of Time, p. 121. 34 O’Rawe, Blanketmen, p. 41. 35 O’Rawe, Blanketmen, p. 50. 36 Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 102. 37 Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 102. 38 Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 80. 39 Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 235. 40 McKeown, Out of Time, p. 245. 41 Ó Dónaill, Foclóir Gaeilge – Béarla, p. 641. 42 Whelan, Irish on the Blanket, p. 35. 43 Ó Dónaill, Foclóir Gaeilge – Béarla, p. 762. 44 Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 40. 45 Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 68. 46 Sands, Writings from Prison, pp. 71–2. 47 Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 75. 48 Joe McQuillan quoted in Campbell et al., Nor Meekly Serve My Time, p. 55. 49 O’Rawe, Blanketmen, p. 44. 50 Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 31. 51 Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 32.

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 193

04/04/2012 16:20

194 Jailtacht 52 Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 35. 53 Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 38. 54 Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 66. 55 Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 67. 56 Feldman, Formations of Violence. 57 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/CB_slang and http://www.cbslang.com/ (accessed 4 November 2009). 58 Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 42. 59 Whelan, Irish on the Blanket, p. 4. 60 Peadar Whelan quoted in Campbell et al., Nor Meekly Serve My Time, p. 35. 61 Ó Dónaill, Foclóir Gaeilge – Béarla, p. 1094. 62 O’Rawe, Blanketmen, p. 259. 63 Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 46. 64 Sands, Writings from Prison, pp. 46–7. 65 Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 81. 66 Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 175. 67 O’Rawe, Blanketmen, p. 45. 68 Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 46. 69 Oifig an tSoláthair, Gramadach na Gaeilge agus Litriú na Gaeilge: An Caighdeán Oifigiúil (Baile Átha Cliath: Oifig an tSoláthair, 1979), p. 66. 70 Sands, Writings from Prison, pp. 237–9 and http://www.bobbysandstrust.com/ writings/prison-diary (accessed 9 September 2009). 71 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Mcelwee_grave.jpg. 72 http://cain.ulst.ac.uk/mccormick/album4.htm (accessed 1 November 2009). 73 Campbell et al., Nor Meekly Serve My Time, pp. 7–8. 74 p. 15 in B. Campbell, ‘Prison publications’, in F. O’Hagan (ed.), Eirí na Gealaí – Reflections on the Culture of Resistance in Long Kesh (Belfast: Sinn Féin, 1991), pp. 11–16. 75 Danine Farquharson, Prison Writings (Oxford: Inter-Disciplinary Press, 2003), p. 36. 76 Campbell et al., Nor Meekly Serve My Time. 77 Seosamh Cnamh, ‘Feall ar an nGaeilge’, An Phoblacht/Republican News (25 July 1985), p. 11. 78 Peadar Ó Sioradáin, Dialann Ocrais: Diary of a Hunger Strike (Béal Feirste: Foilsiú Feirste, 1991), p. 5. [See also under Sheridan, P. (1991)]. 79 David McKittrick, ‘The Irish bombers: what sort of people are they?’, The Independent, http://www.independent.co.uk/news/the-irish-bombers-what-sortof-people-are-they-1365039.html (26 September 1996).

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 194

04/04/2012 16:20

notes 195 80 Anonymous, ‘Jailic speakers face extinction’, The Sunday Life (3 October 1993), p. 6. 81 Anonymous, ‘Jailic speakers face extinction’, The Sunday Life (3 October 1993), p. 6. 82 Unpublished poem courtesy Tarlac Ó Conghalaigh. 83 Anonymous (H7), An Bunchursa (unpublished Irish republican prisoners’ Irish language course, 1995?). 84 Anonymous (H7), An Bunchursa (unpublished Irish republican prisoners’ Irish language course, 1995?). 85 Paul Muldoon, To Ireland, I (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), p. 119. 86 Unpublished poem courtesy Tarlac Ó Conghalaigh. 87 Rand Brandes, ‘A dialogue with Medbh McGuckian in winter 1996–97’, Studies in the Literary Imagination, 30/2 (Fall 1997), 37–62. 88 Medbh McGuckian, Drawing Ballerinas (Dublin: Gallery, 2001). 89 Brandes, A Dialogue with Medbh McGuckian. 90 Medbh McGuckian, Captain Lavender (Dublin: Gallery, 1994). 91 Tarlac Ó Conghalaigh, The Betrayed North of my Soul, Mebdh McGuckian Papers 1964–2006, Series 3: Writings by others, Box 32, Folder 15, Emory Libraries, Manuscripts, Archives and Rare Book Library (n.d.1994?). 92 Tarlac Ó Conghalaigh personal communication with the author 10 March 2009. 93 Medbh McGuckian quoted in Brandes, A Dialogue with Medbh McGuckian. 94 H3 (Metropolitan Films Ltd, 2001). (DVD) 95 Seaghan Ó Murchú, ‘H3’, The Blanket: A Journal of Protest and Dissent, p. 2, http://www.anphoblacht.net/h3.html (2002, accessed 6 November 2007). 96 Hunger (Blast! Films, 2008). (DVD) 97 Sos Cogaidh (TG4, 2004). 98 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z6b8syRrzVI (accessed 18 September 2009). 99 Gearóid Mac Lochlainn, Sruth Teangacha. Stream of Tongues (Indreabhán: Cló Iar-Chonnachta, 2002). 100 http://www.cic.ie (accessed 24 December 2007). 101 Gabrielle Maguire, Our Own Language: An Irish Initiative (Clevedon: Multilingual Matters, 1991). 102 Ken Robinson, Ulster Unionist Party Member of the Legislative Assembly for East Antrim, The Northern Ireland Assembly – Official Report, 9 October 2007. 103 Whalen, Contemporary Irish Republican Prison Writing. 104 S. Walsh, ‘Book review: Contemporary Irish republican prison writing – writing and resistance’, An Phoblacht/Republican News. Reproduced at Saoirse 32, http:// saoirse32.blogsome.com/2008/07/20/book-review-contemporary-irish-republicanprison-writing-writing-and-resistance/trackback/ (17 July 2008, accessed 19 July 2008).

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 195

04/04/2012 16:20

196 Jailtacht

4  Performance 1 George Steiner, Language and Silence (London: Faber and Faber, 1985), p. 13. 2 N. Stanage, ‘Chuck Schumer, Militant Republican’, The New York Observer, http://www.observer.com/node/31683 (8 March 2007, accessed 26 June 2007). 3 Lisa Goldenberg, The Symbolic Significance of the Irish language in the Northern Ireland Conflict (Blackrock: The Columba Press, 2002); Lars Kabel, Pobal na Gaeilge – the Communicative Aspect of Irish in Belfast (unpublished postgraduate essay, the Queen’s University Belfast, 1995); Kabel, L., The Irish language in Northern Ireland. Moving Interpretations of Language as a Symbol of Ethnicity (unpublished conference paper, proceedings of the 6th SIEF conference, Meertens Instituut, Amsterdam, 20–5 April 1998); Lars Kabel, Gaeilic Bhéal Feirste? Changing Attitudes Towards the Gaeltacht in Belfast’s Irish Language Circles (unpublished conference paper, International Congress of Celtic Studies, Cork University, 26 July 1999); P. Kachuk, ‘A resistance to British cultural hegemony: Irish language activism in west Belfast’, Anthropologia, 36 (1994), 135–54; G. McCoy, ‘Rhetoric and realpolitik: the Irish language movement and the British government’, in H. Donnan and G. McFarlane (eds), Culture and Policy in Northern Ireland: Anthropology in the Public Arena (Belfast: Institute of Irish Studies (1997), pp. 117–38; Maguire, Our Own Language; C. O’Reilly, ‘The Irish language – litmus test for equality? Competing discourses of identity, parity of esteem and peace process’, Irish Journal of Sociology, 6 (1996), 154–78; C. O’Reilly, ‘The Irish language as symbol: visual representations of Irish in Northern Ireland’, in A. D. Buckley (ed.), Symbols in Northern Ireland (Belfast: Institute of Irish Studies, 1998), pp. 43–62; Camille O’Reilly, The Irish Language in Northern Ireland: The Politics of Culture and Identity (Houndmills: Macmillan, 1999). 4 John L. Austin, How to do Things with Words (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1962). 5 p. 184 in K. Hall, ‘Performativity’, Journal of Linguistic Anthropology, 9/1–2 (2000), 184–7. 6 p. 231 in Keating, E., ‘Space’, In A. Duranti (ed.), Key Terms in Language and Culture (Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2001), pp. 231–4. 7 M. Di Giulio, M., ‘Performativity’, in J. Elkins (ed.), Visual Studies Reader, http:// visualreader.pbworks.com/ (n.d., accessed 22 February 2010), p. 3. 8 Foucault, Discipline and Punish. 9 Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 141. 10 Foucault, Discipline and Punish, pp. 122–3, 143, 149. 11 L. Purbrick, ‘The architecture of containment’, Belfast Exposed, http:// www.belfastexposed.org/themedpackages/index.php?id=3&sid=117&pid=46 (n.d., accessed 28 September 2007). 12 Patrick Carroll-Burke, Colonial Discipline: The Making of the Irish Convict System (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2000). 13 Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 30. 14 IRA prisoner interviewed in Feldman, Formations of Violence, p. 184.

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 196

04/04/2012 16:20

notes 197 15 IRA prisoner interviewed in Feldman, Formations of Violence, pp. 211–12. 16 Adams, Cage Eleven, p. 103. 17 O’Rawe, Blanketmen, p. 210. 18 p. 158 in B. Rymes, ‘Names’, in A. Duranti (ed.), Key Terms in Language and Culture (Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2001), pp. 158–61. 19 Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 294. 20 Feldman, Formations of Violence, p. 147. 21 Feldman, Formations of Violence, p. 166. 22 Kevin Campbell quoted in Campbell et al., Nor Meekly Serve My Time, p. 48. 23 McKeown, Unrepentant Fenian Bastards, pp. 162–3. 24 Di Giulio, Performativity, p. 2. 25 Ó Dónaill, Foclóir Gaeilge – Béarla, p. 601. 26 Ó Dónaill, Foclóir Gaeilge – Béarla, p. 408. But the term has many variant spellings. 27 Robert Welch, The Oxford Companion to Irish Literature (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996), p. 149. 28 McCarthy, Ciaran Carson’s Labyrinths, pp. 108–9. 29 Feldman, Formations of Violence. 30 Anonymous, Prison Struggle. 31 Cnamh, The Struggle in the Jailteacht, p. 9. 32 Cnamh, The Struggle in the Jailteacht, p. 9. 33 P. Ó Conchúir, ‘A cloth fáinne in the Jailtacht’, English Today, 12 (October 1987), 5. 34 D. De Bréadún, ‘Polasaí á nochtadh’, The Irish Times (25 June 1986), 14; D. De Bréadún, ‘Gaeilge sa Jailtacht’, The Irish Times (12 November 1986), 12; D. De Bréadún, ‘Litir ón Jailtacht’, The Irish Times (10 December 1986), 12; D. De Bréadún, ‘Gaeilge sa Jailtacht’, The Irish Times (18 February 1987), 12; D. De Bréadún, ‘Scéala ón Jailtacht’, The Irish Times (1 July 1987), 10; D. De Bréadún, ‘Jailtacht 1987’, The Irish Times (30 September 1987), 13. 35 D. Mag Cuill, ‘Cosc ar an Ghaeilge sna príosúin go fóill’, The Irish Times (5 July 1989), 13. 36 Anonymous, Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige. 37 p. 49 in L. McKeown, ‘Jailtacht/Gaeltacht’, Cascando: The National Student Literary Magazine (1996), 43–9. 38 Anonymous, Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige, p. 2. 39 Anonymous, Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige, p. 6. 40 The use of /jailtachtaí/ as the plural form of /jailtacht/ appears to be fairly uncommon. Ó Broin uses the term in a short piece on the Irish language in Belfast in the Cambridge University publication ‘Iris’ (2001: 5).

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 197

04/04/2012 16:20

198 Jailtacht 41 Anonymous, Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige, p. 1. 42 Anonymous, Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige, p. 2. 43 Mac Aoidh, Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige. 44 McAllister, Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige. 45 Farquharson, Prison Writings. 46 McKeown, Unrepentant Fenian Bastards, p. 227. 47 McKeown, Unrepentant Fenian Bastards, p. 227. 48 p. 246 in I. Hoëm, ‘Theater’, in A. Duranti (ed.), Key Terms in Language and Culture (Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2001), pp. 244–7. 49 McKeown, Jailtacht/Gaeltacht, p. 47. 50 Adams, Cage Eleven. 51 Adams, Cage Eleven, pp. 29 and 31. 52 Campbell et al., Nor Meekly Serve My Time, pp. 43, 50. 53 Whelan, Irish on the Blanket. 54 Beresford, Ten Men Dead, pp. 91–2. 55 Beresford, Ten Men Dead, p. 420. 56 O’Rawe, Blanketmen, p. 175. 57 Beresford, Ten Men Dead, p. 30. 58 Feldman, Formations of Violence, p. 210. 59 Ó Dónaill, Foclóir Gaeilge – Béarla, p. 1039. 60 INLA interview in Feldman, Formations of Violence, p. 223. 61 Ó Dónaill, Foclóir Gaeilge – Béarla, p. 1076. 62 Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 80. 63 Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 217. 64 Bobby Sands, Skylark Sing your Lonely Song: An Anthology of the Writings of Bobby Sands (Cork: Mercier Press, 1991). 65 IRA interview in Feldman, Formations of Violence, p. 213. 66 Ó Dónaill, Foclóir Gaeilge – Béarla, p. 517. 67 Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 42. 68 McKeown, Unrepentant Fenian Bastards, p. 162. 69 Friel, We Who Believe in Freedom. 70 ‘cobrolchain’, http://www.youtube.com (accessed 8 April 2008). 71 David McKittrick, Seamus Kelters, Brian Feeney and Chris Thornton, Lost Lives (London: Mainstream Publishing, 1999), p. 1116. 72 McKittrick, Lost Lives, p. 1115. 73 ‘Oglach Sean Savage’, http://www.bebo.com/Profile.jsp?MemberId= 5301093682 (accessed 8 April 2008).

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 198

04/04/2012 16:20

notes 199 74 Laurence McKeown, Launch of a new book on Bobby Sands, http://www.indymedia.ie/article/78341? (posted 11 September 2006, accessed 15 April 2007). 75 The mural can be viewed at http://www.flickr.com/photos/78918694@N00/ 2512382722/. 76 Rymes, Names, p. 160. 77 J. R. Searle, ‘Proper names’, Mind 67 (1958), 166–73; Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations (Oxford: Blackwell, 1953). 78 These variants in Irish and English proper names can be found in many different sources but a particularly rich source is Faoi Ghlas ag Gaill, published by Gaeil Bhéal Feirste in Éadan H-Bloc agus Ard Mhaca in 1981. 79 Robert A. Bell, The Book of Ulster Surnames (Belfast: Blackstaff Press, 1988). 80 Antain Mac Lochlainn, Cuir Gaeilge air (Baile Átha Cliath: Cois Life, 2000). p. 51. 81 Bell, The Book of Ulster Surnames, pp. 226–7. 82 Tony Birtill, ‘Beatha agus bás Sheáin Savage’, Beo, 84, http://www.beo.ie (April 2008, accessed 8 April 2008). 83 Donnchadh Ó Corráin and Fidelma Maguire, Irish Names (Dublin: Lilliput Press, 1990). p. 163. 84 Ó Corráin and Maguire, Irish Names, p. 165. 85 McKittrick et al., Lost Lives, p. 1120. 86 e-mail correspondence with the author 5 March 2009. 87 J. Cassidy, ‘Maze prisoners to cheque out in style; IRA inmates will leave jail’, The Sunday Mirror (4 June 2000). 88 M. Day, ‘Cultural oppression and cultural resistance’, An Phoblacht/Republican News (25 July 1985), 8–9. 89 Extract from the poem ‘Rite of Passage’ in Mac Lochalinn, Sruth Teangacha. 90 Extract from the poem ‘Teacht i Méadaíocht’ in Mac Lochalinn, Sruth Teangacha. 91 Steve McQueen interview in S. Crerar, ‘Steve McQueen’s Maze prison film Hunger shocks Cannes’, The Times (15 May 2008). 92 P. Bradshaw, ‘Hunger’, The Guardian (16 May 2008); P. Sinden, ‘Michael Fassbender: on playing Bobby Sands in Hunger’, The Daily Telegraph (18 October 2008). 93 Anonymous, ‘Comhrac ní ceamara’, Foinse, 9 November 2008. 94 R. Bennett, ‘Life and death in Long Kesh’, The Guardian (22 October 2008). 95 Steiner, Language and Silence, p. 40. 96 Susan Sontag, Styles of Radical Will (London: Picador, 2008), IV and XIII. 97 Jaworski, The Power of Silence. 98 Di Giulio, Performativity, p. 3. 99 Letter from Sloan to Donnelly, February 1975, Northern Ireland Office file, NIO/12/49, General Censorship etc. Letters. Prisoners.

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 199

04/04/2012 16:20

200 Jailtacht 100 Letter from Robinson to Donnelly, 4 February 1975, Northern Ireland Office file, NIO/12/49, General Censorship etc. Letters. Prisoners. 101 Memo from Sloan to Tate and O’Dowd, 30 January 1975, Northern Ireland Office file, NIO/12/49, General Censorship etc. Letters. Prisoners. 102 Handwritten comment by Tate, 4 February 1975, Northern Ireland Office file, NIO/12/49, General Censorship etc. Letters. Prisoners. 103 Northern Ireland Office file, NIO/12/49, General Censorship etc. Letters. Prisoners. 104 Letter from Robinson to Governors of HMPs, 2 February 1975, Northern Ireland Office file, NIO/12/49, General Censorship etc. Letters. Prisoners. 105 Letter from McGaughey to Governors HMPs Belfast, Maze, Magilligan and Armagh, 7 May 1975, Northern Ireland Office file, NIO/12/49, General Censorship etc. Letters. Prisoners. 106 Letter from Hilditch to McGaughey 13 May 1975, Northern Ireland Office file, NIO/12/49, General Censorship etc. Letters. Prisoners. 107 Letter from McMullan to McGaughey, 13 May 1975, Northern Ireland Office file, NIO/12/49, General Censorship etc. Letters. Prisoners. 108 Letter from McGaughey to Sloan, 19 May 1975, Northern Ireland Office file, NIO/12/49, General Censorship etc. Letters. Prisoners. 109 Barry PMC Paper 11/77 ‘Prisoners protesting because they have not been granted Special Category Status’, 4 April 1977, Northern Ireland Office file, NIO/12/110 Special Category. Ending of Special Category Status. Protesting Prisoners Periodical Review. 110 Day, Cultural Oppression and Cultural Resistance. 111 McKeown, Unrepentant Fenian Bastards, p. 144. 112 IRA interview in Feldman, Formations of Violence, p. 247. 113 Leo Green quoted in McKeown, Unrepentant Fenian Bastards, pp. 157–8. 114 IRA interview in Feldman, Formations of Violence, p. 207. 115 Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 43. 116 De Bréadún, Scéala ón Jailtacht. 117 De Bréadún, Jailtacht 1987. 118 http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/pr/fr/-/1/hi/uk_politics/4409447.stm 3 October 2008).

(accessed

119 Anonymous, Conditions Book H5 A (unpublished Irish republican prisoners’ log, 1989–91); Anonymous, Conditions Log (unpublished Irish republican prisoners’ log, 1991–3). 120 Anonymous, Points Arising out of Discussion on Censorship and Delay of Letters in Irish/Cuid Pointí Maidir leis an Idirdhealú agus Moilleanna ar Litreacha Gaeilge (unpublished Irish republican prisoners’ discussion paper, 1996), p. 1. 121 Unpublished letter from Conor on H5, D Wing, to Ritchie, 20 July 1996.

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 200

04/04/2012 16:20

notes 201 122 Anonymous, ‘Northern exposure’, The Irish Times, 29 May 1995. 123 Mac Giolla Chríost, The Irish Language in Ireland, p. 161. 124 Copy provided to the author. 125 Anonymous, ‘Cosc ar leabhair Ghaeilge sna Blocanna thart’, An Phoblacht/ Republican News (24 August 1995). 126 Anonymous, ‘Peannchairde’, Lá (1 February 1996), 1. 127 Casey and the Governor of HMP Maghaberry, NIQB 31 Queen’s Bench Division, Deeny J. (unreported judgement Northern Ireland, 13 April 2005). 128 Casey and the Governor of HMP Maghaberry, NIQB 31 Queen’s Bench Division, Deeny J. (unreported judgement Northern Ireland, 13 April 2005). 129 Thompson, Editor’s Introduction, p. 7. 130 Thompson, Editor’s Introduction, p. 7. 131 Bourdieu, Language and Symbolic Power, pp. 105, 129, 236 and 239–43. 132 Eve K. Sedgwick, Touching Feeling: Affect, Pedagogy, Performativity (Durham, North Carolina: Duke University Press, 2003). 133 The mural can be viewed at http://irelandsown.net/IRPWA23.jpg. 134 Foucault, Discipline and Punish, pp. 74 and 99.

5  Visual Grammar 1 Images of British soldiers walking away, out of Ireland as it were, and the use of the wording ‘Slán Abhaile’ (meaning ‘farewell’ or ‘safe (journey) home’) as a roadsign to direct them on their way. 2 ‘Fiche bliain ag fás’ by Muiris Ó Súilleabháin (1933).

6  Ideology 1 Quoted in Beresford, Ten Men Dead, p. 9. 2 For example, Goldenberg, The Symbolic Significance of the Irish Language; O’Reilly, The Irish Language – Litmus Test for Equality; O’Reilly, The Irish Language as Symbol; O’Reilly, The Irish Language in Northern Ireland; Mac Ionnrachtaigh, An Ghaeilge faoi Ghlas, Feargal Mac Ionnrachtaigh, Ón Bhun Aníos – Resisting and Regenerating through Language in the North of Ireland (unpublished conference paper, the Queen’s University Belfast, 8–9 November 2007); Feargal Mac Ionnrachtaigh, Language and Colonialism in Ireland – Power, Resistance and Regeneration (unpublished conference paper, Humboldt-Universität zu Berlin, 25–8 July 2007); Mac Ionnrachtaigh and Mac Giolla Mhéin, Ag Tógáil Éire Nua. 3 William Smith quoted in Pilib Mistéil (ed.), The Irish Language and the Unionist Tradition (Belfast: Ulster People’s College/Ultach Trust, 1994), pp. 17–23. 4 IRA prisoner interviewed by Feldman, Formations of Violence, p. 214. 5 For example, ‘birlinn’, no title, http://www.reddit.com/comments/652on/the_ victorian_holocaust_hitler_and_stalin_were/#c02v13z (posted 10 January 2008,

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 201

04/04/2012 16:20

202 Jailtacht accessed 18 August 2008); ‘Muiris Mag Ualghairg’, [ULLANS] no native speakers returned?, http://archiver.rootsweb.com/th/read/ULLANS/2003-12/1070544146 (posted 4 December 2003, accessed 1 December 2007); C. Ryder, ‘Ulster-Scots will trip off tongue soon as minority language’, The Irish Times (13 May 1999). 6 ‘ianadamson’, Belfast English and Ulster Scots, http://www.ianadamson.net/ notes/2.htm, n.d. (accessed 30 November 2007). 7 ‘Muiris Mag Ualghairg’, [ULLANS] no native speakers returned? 8 ‘Cionadh’, Jailtacht Question, http://uk.groups.yahoo.com/group/ulsteririshstudy/message/98, posted 27 (February, 2006 accessed 19 August 2008). 9 ‘Róman’, How many ppl speak it?, http://www.daltai.com (posted 26 March 2006, accessed 16 August 2008). 10 ‘An Treasach’, no title, http://www.irishgaelictranslator.com/translation/ viewpost.478967.html (posted 6 November 2007, accessed 30 November 2007). 11 É. Ó Dónaill, ‘Máire Killoran’, Beo, 52, http://www.beo.ie/index.php? page=archive_content&archive_id=1561 (August 2005, accessed 14 May 2008). 12 Quoted in Ó Dónaill, Máire Killoran. 13 I. Lee, Meon an Ghaeilgeora agus Conspóid Killoran, http://www.gaelport.com/ index.php?page=clippings&id=531&viewby=date (posted 9 September 2005, accessed 23 June 2008), p. 9. 14 P. Ó Muirí, ‘Sinn Fein Irish is enough to make you sic’, The Belfast Telegraph, http://www.belfasttelegraph.co.uk/opinion/columnists/pol-o-muiri/sinn-feinirish-is-enough-to-make-you-sic-14189714.html (16 February 2009, accessed 9 July 2009). 15 ‘Gael gan Náire’, no title, http://www.sluggerotoole.com/index.php/weblog/ comments/pol-o-muiri-sic-sinn-fein-sic-and-some-seirious-speelling-mistackes/ (posted 19 February 2009, accessed 9 July 2009). 16 F. O’Connor, ‘Irish as a political football’, The Irish Times (29 December 2006). 17 Ian Paisley ‘interview‘ with ‘Balor’, ‘Ian an ghlóir mhóir ag spalpadh Gaeilge’, Beo, 72, http://beo.ie/print.php?content_id=317 (April 2007, accessed 1 December 2007). 18 McKeown, Unrepentant Fenian Bastards, pp. 161–2. 19 N. Ó Donnghaile, ‘Fáine a lonraigh sa phríosún is amuigh’, Nuacht 24 (19 February 2009), 12–13. 20 Ó Donnghaile, Fáine a lonraigh sa phríosún is amuigh, p. 12. 21 M. Ó Muilleoir, ‘Na laochra abú ach ná déanamis dearmad orthu uilig’, From the Balcony, A Publisher’s Blog, http://apublishersblog.blogspot.com/2007_02_25_ archive.html (posted 3 March 2007, accessed 30 October 2008). 22 Ó Muilleoir, From the Balcony, A Publisher’s Blog. 23 Mac Ionnrachtaigh, An Ghaeilge faoi Ghlas, p. 41.

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 202

04/04/2012 16:20

notes 203 24 John McGuffin, Internment (Dublin: Anvil Books Ltd, 1973). Also http://www. irishresistancebooks.com/internment/internment.htm (accessed 14 December 2008). 25 Tarlach Ó hUid, Ar Thóir mo Shealbha (Baile Átha Cliath: Foilseacháin Náisiunta Teoranta, 1960). 26 Tarlach Ó hUid, Faoi ghlas (Westport, Co. Mayo: Foilseacháin Náisiunta Teoranta, 1985). 27 p. 133 in A. Mac Póilin, ‘Irish in Belfast, 1892–1960: from the Gaelic League to Cumann Chluain Ard’, in F. de Brún (ed.), Belfast and the Irish language (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2006), pp. 114–35. 28 L. Friel, ‘Eddie Keenan: 20th century witness’, An Phoblacht/Republican News, http://republican-news.org/archive/1999/December16/16eddi.html (16 December 1999, accessed 14 December 2008). 29 McGuffin, Internment. 30 E. Keenan, ‘Cathal Holland’, An Phoblacht/Republican News, http://republicannews.org/archive/2003/April17/17obit.html (17 April 2003, accessed 14 December 2008). 31 Keenan, Cathal Holland. 32 Friel, Eddie Keenan. 33 Keenan, Cathal Holland. 34 Unattributed source quoted in Mac Ionnrachtaigh, An Ghaeilge faoi Ghlas, pp. 12–13. 35 C. Murray, ‘Untitled review of The writings of Brendan Behan by Colbert Kearney’, Studies: An Irish Quarterly Review, 67/265-266 (Spring–Summer 1978), 116–18. 36 ‘Matt’, personal communication with the author, 2008. 37 Máirtín Ó Cadhain, M., Cré na Cille: Aithris i nDeich Neadarlúid (Baile Átha Cliath: Sáirséal agus Dill, 1948). 38 Robert Welch, The Oxford Companion to Irish Literature (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996), p. 406. 39 Adams, Cage Eleven, p. 23. 40 Matthews, Doing Time. 41 Adams, Cage Eleven, p. 19. 42 Cohen and Taylor, Psychological Survival. 43 For example, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Irish_language; http://cumann-nagaeilge.org/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=26%3Aadmin&cati d=24%3Aadmin&Itemid=10&lang=en. 44 Sands, Writings from Prison, p. 237; http://www.bobbysandstrust.com/writings/ prison-diary. 45 Edmund Crosby Quiggin, A Dialect of Donegal being the Speech of Meenawania in the Parish of the Glenties. Phonology and Texts (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1906).

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 203

04/04/2012 16:20

204 Jailtacht 46 http://ga.wikipedia.org/wiki/C%C3%A9adaoin (accessed 12 June 2008). 47 Ó Dónaill, Foclóir Gaeilge – Béarla, p. 202. 48 Ó Dónaill, Foclóir Gaeilge – Béarla, pp. 1276, 1274 and 1264. 49 pp. 172–3 in R. Devlin, ‘The rule of law and the politics of fear: Reflections upon Northern Ireland’, Law and Critique, 4/2 (1993), 155–85. 50 p. 11 in G. Sweeney, ‘Self-immolation in Ireland: hungerstrikes and political confrontation’, Anthropology Today, 9/5 (1993), 10–14. 51 Sweeny, Self-Immolation in Ireland, p. 11. 52 Beresford, Ten Men Dead, pp. 14–15. 53 Quoted in Feldman, Formations of Violence, p. 214. 54 K. A. Briggs, ‘Catholic endeavors to put hunger strikers in perspective’, The New York Times (8 June 1981). 55 pp. 844–5 in J. McGarry and B. O’Leary ‘Five fallacies: Northern Ireland and the liabilities of liberalism’, Ethnic and Racial Studies 18/4 (1995), 837–61. 56 Beresford, Ten Men Dead, p. 9. 57 p. 21 in A. Bradley, ‘Nation, pedagogy, and performance: W. B. Yeats’s The King’s Threshold and the Irish hunger strikes’, Literature and History, 18/2 (2009), 20–33. 58 M. [Ní] Dhochartaigh and T. O’Hara ‘The practice of hungerstriking’, Ireland’s Own, http://irelandsown.net/practice.html (posted 10 February 2008, accessed 17 May 2009). 59 Máirtín Ó Cadhain, Ar Céalacan, ar Stailc Ocrais in aghaidh na n-Ocastóirí (Baile Átha Cliath: Misneach, 1966). 60 D. Ó Súilleabháin, ‘Céalacan’, Comhar, 25/5 (May 1966), 7–11. 61 ‘Calton – Protestant Unionist and Loyalist Resources’, http://www.caltonradio. com/ForumsPro/viewtopic/t=27204.html (accessed 20 December 2007). 62 William Smith quoted in Mistéil, The Irish Language and the Unionist Tradition, pp. 17–23. 63 Mac Ionnrachtaigh, An Ghaeilge faoi Ghlas, pp. 23–4. 64 See, for example, Mac Giolla Chríost, The Irish Language in Ireland. 65 p. 126 in G. McCoy, ‘Rhetoric and realpolitik: the Irish language movement and the British government’, in H. Donnan and G. McFarlane (eds), Culture and Policy in Northern Ireland: Anthropology in the Public Arena (Belfast: Institute of Irish Studies (1997), pp. 117–38. 66 Ian Malcolm interview in R. McMillen, ‘Agallamh na seachtaine. Dúchas lan’, Foinse (28 June 2009). 67 Janet Muller, Language and Conflict in Northern Ireland and Canada: A Silent War (Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010); Janet Muller, The Road Towards the Irish Language Act in the North of Ireland (unpublished PhD thesis, the University of Ulster, 2007).

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 204

04/04/2012 16:20

notes 205 68 Karyn Stapleton and John Wilson, A Discursive Approach to Cultural Identity: The Case of Ulster Scots (Belfast Working Papers in Language and Linguistics 16, the University of Ulster 2003), pp. 57–71. 69 Anonymous, ‘Vandals in Language Blunder’, http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/northern_ireland/478513.stm (18 October 1999, accessed 3 July 2008). 70 Anonymous, ‘DUP fights back against “erosion of Britishness”’, The Newsletter, http://www.newsletter.co.uk/politics/DUP-fights-back-against-39erosion.4219485. jp (25 June 2008, accessed 6 January 2009). 71 M. Nic Craith, ‘Politicised linguistic consciousness: the case of Ulster-Scots’, Nations and Nationalism, 7.1 (2001), 21–37. 72 Nelson McCausland, DUP MLA, ‘Threat of the Irish Language’, The Belfast Telegraph, 25 July 2007. 73 Nic Craith, Politicised linguistic consciousness: the case of Ulster-Scots, p. 23. 74 Barry White, ‘Minding their languages’, The Belfast Telegraph, 31 July 2007. 75 http://www.publications.parliament.uk/pa/ld200405/ldhansrd/vo041206/ text/41206w01.htm (6 December 2004, item accessed 15 November 2009). 76 For example, TG4 Nuacht, 5 July 2009. 77 Mac Giolla Chríost, The Irish Language in Ireland, pp. 134–71. 78 http://www.niassembly.gov.uk/record/reports2007/070910.htm (accessed 27 May 2010). 79 http://libcom.org/forums/ireland/acht-gregory-campbell-anti-irish-racism09102007 (accessed 27 May 2010). 80 Quoted in ‘An Speallaire’, ‘no title’, Foinse (30 October 2007). 81 L. Ó Muirthile, ‘Gol na mban san ár’, The Irish Times (9 September 1994), 10. 82 http://www.bebo.com/Profile.jsp?MemberId=3351745036 (accessed 15 July 2008). 83 S. Hegarty, ‘Is it craic or crass?’, The Irish Times (31 October 2003). 84 Seán Lynch quoted in McKeown, Unrepentant Fenian Bastard, p. 259. 85 Clive Dutton, Gaeltacht Quarter: The establishment of a development board and related issues. Final report to the Department of Culture, Art and Leisure, the Department of Social Development and the Department of Enterprise, Trade and Investment (Northern Ireland) (no publisher given, 2004). 86 Dutton, Gaeltacht Quarter, p. 32. 87 p. 185 in S. Mistéil, ‘The Gaeltacht Quarter: promoting cultural promiscuity and wealth’, in F. de Brún (ed.), Belfast and the Irish language (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2006), pp. 184–92. 88 http://www.organizedrage.com/2009/04/seosamh-misteal-co-founder-of-irelands.html. 89 pp. 57–8 in A. Mac Póilin, ‘Nua-Ghaeltacht Phobal Feirste: ceachtanna le foghlaim?’ in W. McLeod (ed.), Gàidhealtachdan ùra. Nua-Ghaeltachtaí. Leasachadh

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 205

04/04/2012 16:20

206 Jailtacht na Gàidhlig agus na Gaeilge sa Bhaile Mhór Cur Chun Cinn na Gàidhlig agus na Gaeilge sa Chathair (Oilthigh Dhùn Èideann: Ceiltis agus Eòlas na h-Alba, 2007), pp. 31–59. 90 Belfast City Council, ‘All roads lead to the Gaeltacht Quarter’, Press Release (7 September 2006). 91 C. Barnes, ‘Troubles tours’, Geographical, 81/8 (August 2009), 78. 92 http://www.coiste.ie/p_tours.htm (accessed 6 December 2007). 93 Sarah Brouillette, Irish Political Tours Feedback, http://www.coiste.ie/p_tours. htm (n.d., accessed 6 December 2007). 94 Sarah Brouillette, Northern Ireland Inc.: Branding a Region at the 2007 Smithsonian Folklife Festival (unpublished paper, n.d.). 95 S. Brouillette, ‘Struggle tourism and Northern Ireland’s culture industries: the case of Robert McLiam Wilson’, Textual Practice, 20/2 (2006), 333–53. 96 p. 329 in S. Brouillette, ‘On not safeguarding the cultural heritage’, Irish Studies Review, 15/3 (2007), 317–31. 97 Brouillette, Struggle Tourism and Northern Ireland’s Culture Industries, p. 342. 98 Brouillette, Struggle Tourism and Northern Ireland’s Culture Industries, p. 333. 99 Brouillette, Struggle Tourism and Northern Ireland’s Culture Industries, p. 351. 100 McKeown, Unrepentant Fenian Bastard, p. 259. 101 Margaret Greenwood, Mark Connolly and Geoff Wallis, The Rough Guide to Ireland (London: Rough Guides, 2001), p. 741. 102 http://www.myspace.com/xignorancewasblissx (accessed 18 August 2008). 103 http://www.angelfire.com/rebellion/itsarevolution/weekdiaryold.html (accessed 19 August 2008). 104 http://www.bebo.com/Profile.jsp?MemberId=1884379041 (accessed 19 August 2008). 105 http://upload.bebo.com/Profile.jsp?MemberId=2161785099 (accessed 19 August 2008). 106 http://www.esatclear.ie/~alacrity/jailtacht/jailbu.htm (accessed 2 June 2010). 107 http://upload.bebo.com/Profile.jsp?MemberId=4585118042. 108 http://skin.bebo.com/Profile.jsp?MemberId=707879015. 109 p. 34 in C. Ó Dochartaigh, ‘Irish in Ireland’, in G. Price (ed.), Languages in Britain and Ireland (Oxford: Blackwell, 2000), pp. 6–36. 110 Frank Shovlin, The Irish Literary Periodical, 1923–1958 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), p. 31. 111 Mary Corcoran, Out Of Order: The Political Imprisonment Of Women In Northern Ireland 1972–98 (Abingdon: Willan Publishing, 2006), p. 126. 112 L. O’Connor, ‘Translation through the Macaronic: Gearóid Mac Lochlainn’s Sruth Teangacha/Stream of Tongues’, New Hibernia Review, 13/1 (2009), 73–94.

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 206

04/04/2012 16:20

notes 207 113 L. Mühlhausen, ‘Contributions to the Study of the Tangible Material Culture of the Gaoltacht’, Journal of Cork Historical and Archaeological Society, 38 (1933), 67–71; 39 (1934), 41–51. 114 www.iol.ie/~peadaroriada/CV Peadar/CV-1_Peadar.html; www.iol.ie/~peada roriada/obair_idir_laimhibh2003/obair_radio_telefis.html (accessed 2 June 2010). 115 Ó Dónaill, Foclóir Gaeilge – Béarla, p. 611.

6 Conclusions 1 Mahmoud Darwish quoted in R. Patel (ed.), Mahmoud Darwish. A River Dies of Thirst (Diaries) (Beirut and London: Saqi Books, 2009), p. 19. 2 Ó Cadhain, Cré na Cille, p. 245. 3 For example, Baudrillard, The Spirit of Terrorism; Hoffman, Inside Terrorism; Kaldor, New and Old Wars: Organised Violence in a Global Era; Laqueur, W., The New Terrorism; Virilio, Ground Zero; Žižek, S., Welcome to the Desert of the Real. 4 For example, Copeland, ‘Is the “New Terrorism” really new?’; Della Porta, Social Movements, Political Violence and the State: a Comparative Analysis of Italy and Germany; Hussey, The Game of War; Richmond, Realizing Hegemony? Symbolic Terrorism and the Roots of Conflict; Tucker, What is New About the New Terrorism and How Dangerous is it? 5 Baudrillard, The Spirit of Terrorism, p. 29. 6 Baudrillard, The Spirit of Terrorism, p. 16–17. 7 Baudrillard, The Spirit of Terrorism, p. 29. 8 For example, Mikhail Bakhtin, Towards a Philosophy of the Act (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1993); Deleuze, Difference and Repetition; Deleuze and Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus; Robin Hanson, Economics of the Singularity (IEEE Spectrum, 2008), http://spectrum.ieee.org/robotics/robotics-software/economicsof-the-singularity; For Hegel on the singularity see, for example, S. Lumsden, ‘Dialectic and différance’, Philosophy and Social Criticism 33(6), pp. 667–90; Vernor Vinge, The Coming Technological Singularity: How to Survive in the Post-Human Era, Vision-21 Symposium sponsored by NASA Lewis Research Centre and Ohio Aerospace Institute, 30–1 March, 1993. 9 Richmond, Realizing Hegemony? Symbolic Terrorism and the Roots of Conflict pp. 295–6. 10 Richmond, Realizing Hegemony? Symbolic Terrorism and the Roots of Conflict pp. 298–9. 11 S. Harrison, ‘Four types of symbolic conflict’, Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute [NS], 1 (1995), 255–73. 12 J. Nef, ‘Symbolic politics’, New Internationalist, 161, http://www.newint.org/ issue161/symbolic.htm (July 1986, accessed 14 May 2008). 13 Bourdieu, Language and Symbolic Power. 14 Ó Dónaill, Foclóir Gaeilge – Béarla, p. 1267.

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 207

04/04/2012 16:20

208 Jailtacht 15 Anthony Giddens, Contemporary Critique of Historical Materialism. Volume 2 The Nation-State and Violence (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1985); Anthony Giddens, Sociology: A Brief but Critical Introduction (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1986). 16 Liam Ó Maolmhichíl quoted in, Anonymous, ‘Agallamh’, Foinse (4 May 2008), 17. 17 Patel, Mahmoud Darwish. A River Dies of Thirst (Diaries), p. 13. 18 Mahmoud Darwish quoted in Patel, Mahmoud Darwish. A River Dies of Thirst (Diaries), p. 19.

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 208

04/04/2012 16:20

bibliography Adams, G., Cage Eleven (Dingle: Brandon Books, 2002, first edition 1992). Adams, G., The Politics of Irish Freedom (Dublin: Brandon, 1986). Adams, G., ‘S é an rud é, cultúr, ná an méid a dhéanann sé (culture is what culture does)’, Zone Zero, http://zonezero.com/magazine/essays/distant/zcultures2. html (n.d., accessed 15 April 2007). Adler, M. and Longhurst, B., Discourse, Power and Justice. Towards a New Sociology of Imprisonment (London: Routledge, 1994). ‘Aljazeera’, Belfast’s Psychological Barriers, http://english.aljazeera.net/news/eur ope/2007/11/2008525173237124172.html (26 November 2007, accessed 27 February 2009). ‘An Bunchursa’(H7/anonymous), An Bunchursa (unpublished Irish republican prisoners’ Irish language course, 1995?). Anderson, G., ‘Gerry Anderson: Life according to …’, The Belfast Telegraph, http:// www.belfasttelegraph.co.uk/imported/article871358.ece?service=print (12 June 2006, accessed 3 June 2008). ‘Angelfire’, Ye Olde Memoirs, http://www.angelfire.com/rebellion/itsarevolution/ weekdiaryold.htm (2008, accessed 19 August 2008). ‘An Ghaeilge’ (anonymous), An Ghaeilge – its Revolutionary Role (unpublished Irish republican prisoners’ discussion paper, 1990?). ‘Antaine’, How Many ppl Speak it?, http://www.daltai.com (posted 25 March 2006, accessed 18 August 2008). ‘An Speallaire’, ‘no title’, Foinse (30 October 2007). ‘An Treasach’, no title, http://www.irishgaelictranslator.com/translation/ viewpost.478967.html (posted 6 November 2007, accessed 30 November 2007). Arendt, H., The Human Condition (New York: Anchor Books, 1959). Austin, J. L., How to Do Things with Words (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1962). Awefeso, N., ‘Prison argot and penal discipline’, Journal of Mundane Behavior, 5/1, http://mundanebehavior.org/issues/v5n1/awofeso5-1.htm (2004, accessed 17 December 2007). Babington, A., The Power to Silence. A History of Punishment in Britain (London: Maxwell, 1968). Backhaus, P., Linguistic Landscapes: A Comparative Study of Urban Multilingualism in Tokyo (Clevedon: Multilingual Matters, 2007). ‘Balor’, ‘Ian an ghlóir mhóir ag spalpadh Gaeilge’, Beo, 72, http://beo.ie/print. php?content_id=317 (April 2007, accessed 1 December 2007). ‘Barnaí’, (a), no title, http://www.irishgaelictranslator.com/translation/viewpost. 478967.html (posted 6 November 2007, accessed 30 November 2007).

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 209

04/04/2012 16:20

210 Jailtacht ‘Barnaí’, (b), no title, http://www.irishgaelictranslator.com/translation/viewtopic. 68533.html (posted 7 April 2008, accessed 19 August 2008). Barnes, C., ‘Troubles tours’, Geographical, 81/8 (August 2009), 78. Baudrillard, J., Between Difference and Singularity: An Open Discussion with Jean Baudrillard, http://www.egs.edu/faculty/baudrillard/baudrillard-between-difference-and-singularity-2002.html (The European Graduate School Saas-Fee, Switzerland, 2002, accessed 29 August 2008). Baudrillard, J., The Spirit of Terrorism (London: Verso, 2003). Bean, K., The New Politics of Sinn Fein (Dublin: Irish Academic Press, 2007). Belfast City Council, ‘All roads lead to the Gaeltacht Quarter’, Press Release (7 September 2006). Bell, R., The Book of Ulster Surnames (Belfast: Blackstaff Press, 1988). Bennett, R., ‘Life and death in Long Kesh’, The Guardian (22 October 2008). Beresford, D., Ten Men Dead: The Story of the 1981 Irish Hunger Strike (London: HarperCollins Publishers, 1994). ‘birlinn’, no title, http://www.reddit.com/comments/652on/the_victorian_holocaust_ hitler_and_stalin_were/#c02v13z (posted 10 January 2008, accessed 18 August 2008). Birtill, T., ‘Beatha agus bás Sheáin Savage’, Beo, 84, http://www.beo.ie (April 2008, accessed 8 April 2008). Blommaert, J., Discourse. A Critical Introduction (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005). Bourdieu, P., Language and Symbolic Power (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1991). Brandes, Rand, ‘A dialogue with Medbh McGuckian in winter 1996–7’, Studies in the Literary Imagination, 30/2 (Fall 1997), 37–62. Bradley, A., ‘Nation, pedagogy, and performance: W. B. Yeats’s The King’s Threshold and the Irish hunger strikes’, Literature and History, 18/2 (2009), 20–33. Bradshaw, P., ‘Hunger’, The Guardian (16 May 2008). Brewer, J., ‘Sensitivity as a problem in field research: A study of routine policing in Northern Ireland’, in C. Rezetti and R. Lee (eds), Researching Sensitive Topics (Newbury Park: Sage, 1993), pp. 125–45. Brewer, J. and Magee, K., Inside the RUC: Routine Policing in a Divided Society (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991). Brewer, J. and Higgins, G., Anti-Catholicism in Northern Ireland 1600–1998: The Mote and the Beam (London: Macmillan, 1998). Briggs, K. A., ‘Catholic endeavors to put hunger strikers in perspective’, The New York Times (8 June 1981). Brouillette, S., ‘Struggle tourism and Northern Ireland’s culture industries: the case of Robert McLiam Wilson’, Textual Practice, 20/2 (2006), 333–53. Brouillette, S., ‘On not safeguarding the cultural heritage’, Irish Studies Review, 15/3 (2007), 317–31. Brouillette, S., (a), Irish Political Tours Feedback, http://www.coiste.ie/p_tours.htm (n.d., accessed 6 December 2007). Brouillette, S., (b), Northern Ireland Inc.: Branding a Region at the 2007 Smithsonian Folklife Festival (unpublished paper, n.d.).

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 210

04/04/2012 16:20

bibliography 211 Brown, K. and McGinty, R., ‘Public attitudes toward partisan and neutral symbols in post-Agreement Northern Ireland’, Identities. Global Studies in Culture and Power, 10 (2003), 83–108. Buckley, A. D. (ed.), Symbols in Northern Ireland (Belfast: Institute of Irish Studies, 1998). Buckley, M., The Writing on the Wall: Continuity and Change as Represented in the Republican Murals of West Belfast, http://www.stanford.edu/group/ww1/ spring2000/Buckley/IRA.htm (2000, accessed 15 March 2009). Butler, J., Excitable Speech. A Politics of Performative (New York: Routledge, 1997). Bush, B., Imperialism and Postcolonialism (Harlow: Pearson, 2006). ‘CAF’, no title, http://www.caf.ie/blog/entry.asp?ENTRY_ID=11 (n.d., accessed 12 February 2009). ‘Calton – Protestant Unionist and Loyalist Resources’, (a), no title, http://www. caltonradio.com/ForumsPro/viewtopic/t=27204.html (n.d., accessed 20 December 2007). ‘Calton – Protestant Unionist and Loyalist Resources’, (b), no title, http://www. caltonradio.com/ForumsPro/viewtopic/t=25644.htm (n.d., accessed 30 November 2007). Campbell, B., McKeown, L. and O’Hagan, F. (eds), Nor Meekly Serve My Time: The H-Block Struggle 1976–1981 (Belfast: Beyond the Pale Publications, 1994). Campbell, B., ‘Prison publications’, F. O’Hagan (ed.), Eirí na Gealaí – Reflections on the Culture of Resistance in Long Kesh (Belfast: Sinn Féin, 1991), pp. 11–16. Campbell, G., no title, http://www.niassembly.gov.uk/record/reports2007/070910. htm (2007, accessed 1 May 2010). Capita Management Consultants, The Queen’s University Belfast Student’s Union Bilingual Policy Review: Final Report 25 June 1997 (no publisher given, 1997). Cardozo-Freeman, I., The Joint: Language and Culture in a Maximum Security Prison (Springfield, IL: Charles Thomas Publisher, 1984). Carrabine, E., Power, Discourse and Resistance: A Genealogy of the Strangeways Prison Riot (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004). Carroll-Burke, P., Colonial Discipline: The Making of the Irish Convict System (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2000). Carson, C., The Star Factory (London: Granta, 1997). Casciani, D., ‘Painting politics in Northern Ireland’, BBC News Online, http://news. bbc.co.uk/1/hi/northern_ireland/771314.stm (31 May 2000, accessed 1 February 2009). Casey and the Governor of HMP Maghaberry, NIQB 31 Queen’s Bench Division, Deeny J. (unreported judgement Northern Ireland, 13 April 2005). Cassidy, J., ‘Maze prisoners to cheque out in style; IRA inmates will leave jail’, The Sunday Mirror (4 June 2000). ‘Ceartais’, no title, http://www.bebo.com/ceartais (n.d., accessed 10 September 2008). ‘Censorship’ (anonymous), Points Arising out of Discussion on Censorship and Delay of Letters in Irish/Cuid Pointí Maidir leis an Idirdhealú agus Moilleanna ar Litreacha Gaeilge (unpublished Irish republican prisoners’ discussion paper, 1996).

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 211

04/04/2012 16:20

212 Jailtacht Chandler, D., Semiotics: The Basics (London: Routledge, 2002). Chomsky, N., Language and Responsibility (London: Routledge, 1979). ‘Cionadh’, Jailtact Question, http://uk.groups.yahoo.com/group/ulsteririshstudy/ message/98 (posted 27 February, 2006 accessed 19 August 2008). Clarke, L., ‘McShane took a hard line on touts’, The Sunday Times (17 February 2007). Clarke, L., Broadening the Battlefield: the H Blocks and the Rise of Sinn Féin (Dublin: Gill & Macmillan, 1987). ‘claudifito’, Excursio a Belfast, http://fins-la-tercera-guinness-no-soc-persona.bloc. cat/archives/884/200504 (posted 7 April 2005, accessed 14 April 2009). Cnamh, S., (a), ‘The struggle in the “Jailteacht”’, An Phoblacht/Republican News (25 July 1985), p. 9. Cnamh, S., (b), ‘Feall ar an nGaeilge’, An Phoblacht/Republican News (25 July 1985), p. 11. Cobley, P. (ed.), The Routledge Companion to Semiotics and Linguistics (London: Routldege, 2001). ‘cobrolchain’, no title, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S51-aVchzDI&feature =related (n.d., accessed 8 April 2008). Cohen, S. and Taylor, L., Psychological Survival: The Experience of Long-Term Imprisonment (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1972). ‘Coiste na n-Iarchimí’, no title, http://www.coiste.ie/p_tours.htm (n.d., accessed 6 December 2007). ‘cobrolchain’, http://www.youtube.com (accessed 8 April 2008) Cole, T. L., ‘Danny Devenny – “I learnt to draw in the Maze prison, on handkerchiefs”’, The Financial Times (3 January 2009). Collins, J., and Glover, R. (eds), Collateral Language (New York: New York University Press, 2002). ‘Comhrac ní ceamara’ (anonymous), Foinse (9 November 2008). ‘Conditions Book’ (anonymous), Conditions Book H5 A (unpublished Irish republican prisoners’ log, 1989–91). ‘Conditions Log’ (anonymous), Conditions Log (unpublished Irish republican prisoners’ log, 1991–3). Connolly, M., ‘SF youth criticised over lapel Armalites’, The Irish News (3 October 2003). Connolly, S. J. (ed.), The Oxford Companion to Irish History (Oxford University Press: Oxford, 1998). Cook, W., ‘The long drawn-out struggle’, New Statesman (26 June 2000). Copeland, T., ‘Is the “New Terrorism” really new?’, The Journal of Conflict Studies, 21/2 (2001), 7–27. Copete, J., The Experiences That Make Us What We Are. Dealing with the Legacy of the Past in Post-Settlement Northern Ireland, http://www.humanrightsobservatory.net/revista1/copete.pdf (n.d., accessed 10 September 2007). Corcoran, M. S., Out Of Order: The Political Imprisonment Of Women In Northern Ireland 1972–98 (Abingdon: Willan Publishing, 2006). ‘Cosc ar leabhair Ghaeilge sna Blocanna thart’ (anonymous), An Phoblacht/Republican News (24 August 1995).

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 212

04/04/2012 16:20

bibliography 213 Coupland, N. (ed.), Styles of Discourse (London: Croom Helm, 1988). Coupland, N., Style: Language Variation and Identity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007). Cox, M., Guelke, A. and Stephen, F. (eds), A Farewell to Arms: Beyond the Good Friday Agreement (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2005). Crenshaw, M. (ed.), Inside Terrorism (Pennsylvania: Penn State University Press, 1994). Crenshaw, M., ‘Theories of terrorism: instrumental and organizational approaches’, in D. Rapoport (ed.), Inside Terrorist Organisations (London: Routledge, 2001), pp. 13–31. Crerar, S., ‘Steve McQueen’s Maze prison film Hunger shocks Cannes’, The Times (15 May 2008). ‘Cris Ní Choisdealbha’, no title, http://www.smo.uhi.ac.uk/~smacsuib/ibi/tnag/ (n.d., accessed 4 December 2007). Crowe, T. R., ‘Speaking in tongues. An interview with Belfast poet Gearóid Mac Lochlainn’, Asheville Review, 10/1, http://www.ashevillereview.com/c10n1/ Interview_Mac_Lochlainn.php (n.d., accessed 10 September 2007). Crowley, T., Language in History: Theories and Texts (London: Routledge, 1996). Crowley, T., The Politics of Language in Ireland 1366–1922 (London: Routledge, 2000). Crowley, T., War of Words: The Politics of Language in Ireland 1537–2004 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005). ‘Cumann na Gaeilge i mBoston’, no title, http://cumann-na-gaeilge.org/index. php?option=com_content&view=article&id=26%3Aadmin&catid=24%3Aad min&Itemid=10&lang=en (posted 27 April 2010, accessed 21 May 2010). Davies, L., ‘artworks’, Public Culture, 13/1 (2001), 155–8. Day, M., ‘Cultural oppression and cultural resistance’, An Phoblacht/Republican News (25 July 1985), 8–9. De Bréadún, D., ‘Polasaí á nochtadh’, The Irish Times (25 June 1986), 14. De Bréadún, D., ‘Gaeilge sa Jailtacht’, The Irish Times (12 November 1986), 12. De Bréadún, D., ‘Litir ón Jailtacht’, The Irish Times (10 December 1986), 12. De Bréadún, D., ‘Gaeilge sa Jailtacht’, The Irish Times (18 February 1987), 12. De Bréadún, D., ‘Scéala ón Jailtacht’, The Irish Times (1 July 1987), 10. De Bréadún, D., ‘Jailtacht 1987’, The Irish Times (30 September 1987), 13. De Brún, F. (ed.), Belfast and the Irish language (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2006). ‘Deezer’, no title, http://libcom.org/forums/ireland/acht-gregory-campbell-antiirish-racism-09102007 (posted 9 October 2007, accessed 26 May 2010). De Faoite, C., ‘Céim ar aghaidh, dhá chéim siar?’, An Phoblacht/Republican News, http://republican-news.org/archive/1998/April23/23gaei.html (23 April 1998, accessed 1 December 2007). De Faoite, C., ‘Ní héisteacht go labhairt’, An Phoblacht/Republican News, http:// republican-news.org/archive/1999/May06/06gaei.html (6 May 1999, accessed 6 December 2007). Deleuze, G., Difference and Repetition (London: The Athlone Press, 1994). Deleuze, G. and Guattari, F., A Thousand Plateaus (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1980).

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 213

04/04/2012 16:20

214 Jailtacht Department of Economic Development [DED], Fair Employment in Northern Ireland Code of Practice (Belfast: HMSO, 1989). Della Porta, D., Social Movements, Political Violence and the State: a Comparative Analysis of Italy and Germany (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006). Derrida, J., ‘No apocalypse, not now … ?’, Diacritics, xx (1984), 20–31. Devlin, R., ‘The rule of law and the politics of fear: Reflections upon Northern Ireland’, Law and Critique, 4/2 (1993), 155–85. Dhochartaigh, M. and O’Hara, T., ‘The practice of hungerstriking’, Ireland’s Own, http://irelandsown.net/practice.html (posted 10 February 2008, accessed 17 May 2009). Di Giulio, M., ‘Performativity’, in J. Elkins (ed.), Visual Studies Reader, http://visualreader.pbworks.com/ (n.d., accessed 22 February 2010). ‘Dochas-Nua’, Dóchas Nua na Gaeilge. An Ghaeilge á Chur Chun Cinn sna Cathracha, http://www.bebo.com/Profile.jsp?MemberId=3351745036 (posted January 2007, accessed 15 July 2008). Donnelly, C. J., ‘Masshouses and meetinghouses: the archaeology of the Penal Laws in early modern Ireland’, International Journal of Historical Archaeology, 8/2 (2004), 119–32. Dunbar, C., ‘An bhfuil staid na Gaeilge óthuaidh chomh láidir is a shíltear?’, Nuacht, 24 (19 February 2009), 14–15. Dunn, S. (ed.), Facets of the Conflict in Northern Ireland (New York: St.Martin’s Press, 1995). Dutton, C., Gaeltacht Quarter. The establishment of a development board and related issues. Final report to the Department of Culture, Art and Leisure, the Department of Social Development and the Department of Enterprise, Trade and Investment (Northern Ireland) (no publisher given, 2004). Eckert, P. and Rickford, J. R. (eds), Style and Sociolinguistic Variation (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2001). Einat, T., ‘Language, culture and behaviour in prison: the Israeli case’, Asian Journal of Criminology, 1/2 (2006), 173–89. ‘Eleven Sixty Nine and Counting’, McFarlane – the Inside Story, http:// 1169andcounting.blogspot.com/2005_07_10_archive.html (posted 15 July 2005, accessed 30 November 2007). Ellison, J. W. G., Professionalism in the RUC: An Examination of the Institutional Discourse (unpublished PhD thesis, the University of Ulster, 1997). Encinas, G. L., Prison Argot: A Sociolinguistic and Lexicographic Study (New York: University Press of America, 2001). ‘estatclear’, no title, http://www.esatclear.ie/~alacrity/jailtacht/jailbu.htm (n.d., accessed 19 August 2008). Evans, E., An Irish Reader (Aberystywth : Coleg Prifysgol Cymru, 1989). Fairclough, N., Language and Power (London: Longman, 1989). Fairclough, N., Critical Discourse Analysis (London: Longman, 1995). Fair Employment Commission [FEC], Press release (19 August 1997). Fanning, D. F., Irish Republican Literature 1968–1998: ‘Standing on the Threshold of Another Trembling World’ (unpublished PhD thesis, Ohio State University, 2003).

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 214

04/04/2012 16:20

bibliography 215 Fanon, F., The Wretched of the Earth (London: Penguin, 1961). ‘Faoi Ghlas ag Gaill’, Faoi Ghlas ag Gaill (Belfast: Gaeil Bhéal Feirste in Éadan H-Bloc agus Ard Mhaca, 1981). ‘Faoiseamh’, Language as a Weapon, http://faoiseamh.blogspot.com/2008/04/ language-as-weapon.html (posted 29 April 2008, accessed 19 August 2008). Farquharson, D., Prison Writings (Oxford: Inter-Disciplinary Press, 2003). Farren, S., ‘Language policy in a divided community’, in T. Hickey and J. Williams (eds), Language, Education and Society in a Changing World (Clevedon: Multilingual Matters Ltd, 1996), pp. 54–62. Feldman, A., Formations of Violence. The Narrative of the Body and Political Terror in Northern Ireland (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991). Finegan, E. and Biber, D., ‘Register and social dialect variation: an integrated approach’, in D. Biber and E. Finegan (eds), Sociolinguistic Perspectives on Register (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994), pp. 315–47. ‘fionnchu’, no title, http://fionnchu.blogspot.com/2007_12_01_archive.htm (posted 1 December 2007, accessed 25 June 2009). Fonebone, J., no title, http://weburbanist.com/2007/08/03/beyond-the-troublesmurals-of-belfast-northern-ireland/ (posted 5 August 2007, accessed 20 February 2009). Foster, R. F., Luck and the Irish: A Brief History of Change, 1970–2000 (London: Allen Lane, 2007). Foucault, M., The Archaeology of Knowledge (London: Tavistock, 1972). Foucault, M., Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison (London: Allen Lane, 1977). Foucault, M., ‘Prison talk’, in C. Gordon (ed.), Power/Knowledge (New York: Pantheon, 1980), pp. 37–54. Fought, C., Language and Ethnicity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006). Friel, L., ‘Eddie Keenan: 20th century witness’, An Phoblacht/Republican News, http:// republican-news.org/archive/1999/December16/16eddi.html (16 December 1999, accessed 14 December 2008). Friel, L., ‘We who believe in freedom’, An Phoblacht/Republican News, http:// republican-news.org/archive/1998/June18/18hs.html (18 June 1998, accessed 21 September 2007). ‘Fuiseog’, no title, http://sluggerotoole.com/index.php/weblog/comments/tough_ questions_for_sinn_feins_ard_fheis/P50/ (posted 23 October 2006, accessed 16 April 2007). ‘Gael gan Náire’, no title, http://www.sluggerotoole.com/index.php/weblog/comments/pol-o-muiri-sic-sinn-fein-sic-and-some-seirious-speelling-mistackes/ (posted 19 February 2009, accessed 9 July 2009). ‘Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige’ (anonymous), Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige (unpublished Irish republican prisoners’ discussion paper, 1995?). Gandhi, L., Postcolonial Theory (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1998). Gibney, J., ‘Saoirse intinne – freedom of the mind: the Bobby Sands memorial lecture: 1992’, An Phoblacht/Republican News (14 May 1991), 8.

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 215

04/04/2012 16:20

216 Jailtacht Gibney, J., ‘Ag foghlaim Gaeilge’, An Phoblacht/Republican News, http://www. anphoblacht.com/news/print/5458 (1 July 2004, accessed 21 September 2007). Gibney, J., ‘Cúpla focal will help you enjoy Irish language’, The Irish News (19 March 2009), 2. Giddens, A., Contemporary Critique of Historical Materialism. Volume 2 The Nation-State and Violence (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1985). Giddens, A., Sociology: A Brief but Critical Introduction (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1986). Goldenberg, L., The Symbolic Significance of the Irish language in the Northern Ireland Conflict (Blackrock: The Columba Press, 2002). Gorter, D. (ed.), Linguistic Landscape. A New Approach to Multilingualism (Clevedon: Multilingual Matters, 2006). Gramsci, A., Selections from the Prison Notebooks (London: Lawrence and Wishart, 1971). Greenwood, M., Connolly, M. and Wallis, G., The Rough Guide to Ireland (London: Rough Guides, 2001). Grubacic, A., ‘Remembering Bobby Sands: An interview with Denis O’Hearn’, Z Magazine Online, 19/4, http://zmagsite.zmag.org/May2006/grubacicpr0506. html (May 2006, accessed 15 April 2007). H3 (Metropolitan Films Ltd, 2001). (DVD) Habermas, J., Legitimation Crisis (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1975, new edition 1988). Habermas, J., The Theory of Communicative Action, Volume 1: Reason and the Rationalization of Society (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1984). Habermas, J., The Theory of Communicative Action, Volume 2: The Critique of Functional Reason (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1987). Hall, K., ‘Performativity’, Journal of Linguistic Anthropology, 9/1–2 (2000), 184–7. Hall, M., Seosamh Mistéal: Co-Founder of Ireland’s Only Urban Irish Speaking Community. (Gaeltacht), http://www.organizedrage.com/2009/04/seosamh-mistealco-founder-of-irelands.html (posted 6 April 2009, accessed 16 June 2009). Halliday, M. A. K., Language as Social Semiotic: The Social Interpretation of Language and Meaning (London: Edward Arnold, 1978). Hannah, G., Clutterbuck, L. and Rubin, J., Radicalization or Rehabilitation. Understanding the Challenge of Extremist and Radicalized Prisoners http://www. rand.org/pubs/technical_reports/2008/RAND_TR571.pdf (Rand Corporation, 2008, accessed 20 August 2008). Harrison, S., ‘Four types of symbolic conflict’, Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute [NS], 1 (1995), 255–73. Hayt, E., ‘Art /architecture; far from the troubles, agitprop for both camps’, The New York Times (18 October 1998). Heaney, S., Wintering out (London: Faber & Faber, 1972). Hegarty, S., ‘Is it craic or crass?’, The Irish Times (31 October 2003). Henry, L., ‘Painting a new history’, http://culturenorthernireland.org (2009, accessed 27 February 2009).

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 216

04/04/2012 16:20

bibliography 217 Henry, L., ‘All you need is art’, The Belfast Telegraph (8 June 2007). Hicks, D., Huge Support for Irish Language Parade, http://www.eurolang.net (17 February 2008, accessed 1 March 2008). ‘Historic rally demands Irish language Act’ (anonymous), An Phoblacht/Republican News, http://www.anphoblacht.com/news/print/18077 (1 March 2007, accessed 21 September 2007). Hodge, R. and Kress, G., Social Semiotics (Cambridge: Polity, 1988). Hoëm, I., ‘Theater’, in A. Duranti (ed.), Key Terms in Language and Culture (Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2001), pp. 244–7. Hoffman, B., Inside Terrorism (London: Weidenfeld and Nicholson, 1998). Holt, E., ‘The Irish question’, The Irish Times (16 June 2001). Honderich, T. (ed.), The Oxford Companion to Philosophy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995). Hunger (Blast!Films, 2008). (DVD) Hussey, A., ‘The game of war’, The New Statesman http://www.newstatesman. com/200209090034 (9 September 2002). Hymes, D., ‘Discourse: scope without depth’, International Journal of the Sociology of Language, 57 (1986), 49–90. ‘ianadamson’, Belfast English and Ulster Scots, http://www.ianadamson.net/ notes/2.htm (n.d., accessed 30 November 2007). ‘Irish Language’, Irish Language, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Irish_language (n.d., accessed 21 May 2010). Irvin, C. L., Militant Nationalism: Between Movement and Party in Ireland and the Basque Country (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1999). Irwin, T., ‘Prison education in Northern Ireland: learning from our paramilitary past’, The Howard Journal of Criminal Justice, 42/5 (2003), 471–84. Jameson, F., ‘Beyond the cave: demystifying the ideology of modernism’, reproduced in M. Handt and K. Weeks (eds), The Jameson Reader (Oxford: Blackwell, 2000, originally published 1975), pp. 175–87. Jarman, N., ‘Painting landscapes: the place of murals in the symbolic construction of urban space’, in A. D. Buckley (ed.), Symbols in Northern Ireland (Belfast: Institute of Irish Studies, 1998), pp. 81–98. Jaworski, A., The Power of Silence (London: Sage, 1993). Jaworski, A. and Thurlow, C. (eds), Semiotic Landscapes: Language, Image, Space (London: Continuum, 2010). Jenkins, R., ‘Bringing it all back home: An anthropologist in Belfast’, in C. Bell and H. Roberts (eds), Social Researching: Politics, Problems, Practice (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1984), pp. 147–64. Jupp, V., Methods of Criminological Research (London: Allen and Unwin, 1989). Kabel, L., Pobal na Gaeilge – the Communicative Aspect of Irish in Belfast (unpublished postgraduate essay, the Queen’s University Belfast, 1995). Kabel, L., The Irish language in Northern Ireland: Moving Interpretations of Language as a Symbol of Ethnicity (unpublished conference paper, proceedings of the 6th SIEF conference, Meertens Instituut, Amsterdam, 20–5 April 1998).

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 217

04/04/2012 16:20

218 Jailtacht Kabel, L., Gaeilic Bhéal Feirste? Changing Attitudes Towards the Gaeltacht in Belfast’s Irish Language Circles (unpublished conference paper, International Congress of Celtic Studies, Cork University, 26 July 1999). Kachuk, P., ‘A resistance to British cultural hegemony: Irish language activism in west Belfast’, Anthropologia, 36 (1994), 135–54. Kaldor, M., New and Old Wars: Organised Violence in a Global Era (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1999). Kaminski, M. M., ‘Games prisoners play: allocation of social roles in a total institution’, Rationality and Society, 15/2 (2003), 188–217. Keating, E., ‘Space’, In A. Duranti (ed.), Key Terms in Language and Culture (Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2001), pp. 231–4. Keenan, E., ‘Cathal Holland’, An Phoblacht/Republican News, http://republicannews.org/archive/2003/April17/17obit.html (17 April 2003, accessed 14 December 2008). ‘Kevy Devine’, no title, http://upload.bebo.com/Profile.jsp?MemberId=2161785099 (posted 15 August 2008, accessed 19 August 2008). Kiberd, D., Irish Classics (London: Granta Books, 2000). Kimmelman, M., ‘Watching “Friends” in Gaza: a culture clash’, The New York Times (7 September 2008). King, S., ‘The Irish language movement is allied to separatism’, The Irish News (25 August 1997). ‘Kitmarloe’, no title, http://www.arrse.co.uk/cpgn2/Forums/viewtopic/p=2386727. html (posted 24 January 2009, accessed 22 February 2009). Kress, G. and Van Leeuwen, Th., Multimodal Discourse – The Modes and Media of Contemporary Communication (London: Arnold, 2001). Larkin, P., ‘Conspóid Killoran’, Lá (8 August 2005), 8. Laqueur, W., The New Terrorism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999). Lee, I., Meon an Ghaeilgeora agus Conspóid Killoran, http://www.gaelport.com/ index.php?page=clippings&id=531&viewby=date (posted 9 September 2005, accessed 23 June 2008). Lee, R., Dangerous Fieldwork (London: Sage, 1995). Lewis, J., Language Wars (London: Pluto, 2005). Linehan, H., ‘More Irish-speaking than the Irish themselves’, The Irish Times (18 January 2003). Lisle, D., ‘Local symbols, global networks: reading the murals of Belfast’, Alternatives, 31 (2006), 27–52. ‘lombard.beige’, no title, http://www.irishgaelictranslator.com/translation/view toph.54208-s0.html (posted 7 February 2007, accessed 19 August 2008). Longwell, A., The Maze Community: A Study of the Interaction between Staff and Prisoners and the Redistribution of Power and Control (unpublished MPhil thesis, the Queen’s University Belfast, 1998). ‘Lughaidh Ó hEacháin’, Jailtacht Question, http://uk.groups.yahoo.com/group/ ulsteririshstudy/message/100 (posted 27 February 2006, accessed 19 August 2008). Mac Aoidh, G., Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige (unpublished Irish republican prisoners’ discussion paper, 1996).

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 218

04/04/2012 16:20

bibliography 219 Mac Cormaic, E., ‘Ar ais, ar ais’, An Phoblacht/Republican News, http://republicannews.org/archive/2000/June08/08gaei.html (8 June 1999, accessed 4 December 2007). Mac Cormaic, E., ‘Séanadh ceart cultúrtha sa Jailtacht’, in F. O’Hagan (ed.), Eirí na Gealaí – Reflections on the Culture of Resistance in Long Kesh (Belfast: Sinn Féin, 1991), pp. 17–19. Mac Cormaic, E., ‘The key’. in Sinn Féin, The Role of the Language in Ireland’s Cultural Revival (Sinn Féin: Belfast, 1986), pp. 11–19. Mac Diarmada, D., ‘Leathnú an chultúir dhúchasaigh i mBéal Feirste 1984’, Iris (1984), 32–3. Mac Dhonnagáin, T., Conway, C. and Ryan, J. (eds), Aniar: Voices and Verse from the Edge of the World. Véarsaíocht ón Traidisiún Gaelach (An Spidéal: Futa Fata, 2007). Mac Eoin, M., ‘An inspiration still to the Irish language movement’, An Phoblacht/ Republican News, http://www.anphoblacht.com/news/print/12197 (1 December 2005, accessed 21 September 2007). Mac Eoin, M., ‘An Ghaeilge agus an réabhlóid’, An Phoblacht/Republican News, http://www.anphoblacht.com/news/print/12500 (5 January 2006, accessed 21 September 2007). MacGinty, R., Muldoon, O. T. and Ferguson, N., ‘No war, no peace: Northern Ireland after the agreement’, Political Psychology, 28/1 (2007), 1–11. MacGinty, R. and du Toit, P., ‘A disparity of esteem: relative group status in Northern Ireland after the Belfast Agreement’, Political Psychology, 28/1 (2007), 13–31. MacGinty, R. and Brown, K., ‘Public attitudes toward partisan and neutral symbols in post-Agreement Northern Ireland’, Identities: Global Studies in Culture and Power, 10/1 (2003), 83–108. Mac Giolla Chríost, D., The Irish Language in Ireland: From Goídel to Globalisation (London: Routledge, 2005). Mac Ionnrachtaigh, F. and Mac Giolla Mhéin, C., ‘Ag tógáil Éire nua’, Sinn Féin News (31 August 2005). Mac Ionnrachtaigh, F., An Ghaeilge Faoi Ghlas. Príosúnaigh Pholaitiúla Éireannacha agus an Ghaeilge (unpublished MA thesis, the Queen’s University Belfast, 2003). Mac Ionnrachtaigh, F., (a), Ón Bhun Aníos – Resisting and Regenerating through Language in the North of Ireland (unpublished conference paper, the Queen’s University Belfast, 8–9 November 2007). Mac Ionnrachtaigh, F., (b), Language and Colonialism in Ireland – Power, Resistance and Regeneration (unpublished conference paper, Humboldt-Universität zu Berlin, 25–8 July 2007). Mac Ionnrachtaigh, F., An Ghaeilge Faoi Ghlas: Republican Prisoners and the Irish Language in the North of Ireland – Power, Resistance and Revival (unpublished PhD thesis, the Queen’s University Belfast, 2008). Mac Lochlainn, A., Cuir Gaeilge air (Baile Átha Cliath: Cois Life, 2000). Mac Lochlainn, G., Sruth Teangacha: Stream of Tongues (Indreabhán: Cló Iar-Chonnachta, 2002).

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 219

04/04/2012 16:20

220 Jailtacht Mac Póilin, A., ‘Nua-Ghaeltacht Phobal Feirste: ceachtanna le foghlaim?’ in W. McLeod (ed.), Gàidhealtachdan ùra/Nua-Ghaeltachtaí: Leasachadh na Gàidhlig agus na Gaeilge sa Bhaile Mhór Cur Chun Cinn na Gàidhlig agus na Gaeilge sa Chathair (Oilthigh Dhùn Èideann: Ceiltis agus Eòlas na h-Alba, 2007), pp. 31–59. Mac Póilin, A., ‘“Spiritual beyond the ways of men” – images of the Gael’, The Irish Review, 16 (1994), 1–22. Mac Póilin, A., Léacht ar Protestant Gaelic tradition. Maze, 7–15 Lúnasa 1995 (unpublished lecture given at HMP the Maze, 7–15 August 1995). Mac Póilin, A., ‘The Irish language movement in Northern Ireland’, in M. Nic Craith (ed.), Watching One’s Tongue: Aspects of Romance and Celtic languages (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 1996), pp. 137–62. Mac Póilin, A. (ed.), The Irish language in Northern Ireland (Belfast: Ultach Trust, 1997). Mac Póilin, A., ‘Irish in Belfast, 1892–1960: from the Gaelic League to Cumann Chluain Ard’, in F. de Brún (ed.), Belfast and the Irish language (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2006), pp. 114–35. Mac Ruairí, T., ‘Northern exposure’, The Irish Times (20 May 1995), 42. Mac Uileagóid, M., From Fetters to Freedom: The Inside Story of Irish Jailbreaks (Sásta, 1996). Mag Cuill, D., ‘Cosc ar an Ghaeilge sna príosúin go fóill’, The Irish Times (5 July 1989), 13. Mageean, P. and O’Brien, M., ‘From the margins to the mainstream: human rights and the Good Friday Peace Agreement’, Fordham International Law Journal 22 (1999), 1499–1539. Maguire, G., Our Own Language: An Irish Initiative (Clevedon: Multilingual Matters, 1991). Mallie, E. and McKittrick, D., The Fight for Peace: The Secret Story Behind the Irish Peace Process (London: Heinemann, 1996). Matthews, R., Doing Time: An Introduction to the Sociology of Imprisonment (Houndmills: Macmillan, 1999). Maurer, D., Language of the Underworld (Lexington, KY: The University Press, 1981). McAllister, J. P., Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige: An adult-learning project based in Long Kesh Prison from May 1995 (unpublished undergraduate essay, the Open University, 1997). McAtackney, L., The Negotiation of Identity at Shared Sites: Long Kesh/Maze Prison Site, Northern Ireland (unpublished conference paper, Newcastle University, 11–16 April 2005, revised July 2006). McAuley, J., The Politics of Identity: A Loyalist Community in Belfast (Aldershot: Avebury, 1994). McCarthy, C., ‘Ciaran Carson’s labyrinths’, English, 54 (2005), 99–116. McCausland, N., ‘Threat of the Irish language’, The Belfast Telegraph (25 July 2007). McConville, S., Irish Political Prisoners, 1848–1922: Theatres of War (London: Routledge, 2003).

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 220

04/04/2012 16:20

bibliography 221 McCormick, J., A Directory of Murals in Northern Ireland http://cain.ulst.ac.uk/ mccormick/ (n.d., accessed various dates 2007–9). McCormick, J. and Jarman, N., ‘Death of a mural’, Journal of Material Culture 10/1 (2005), 49–71. McCoy, G., FAO: Protestant Prisoners Learning the Irish Language (unpublished questionnaires completed by loyalist prisoners at HMP the Maze and HMP Maghaberry, circa 7 March 1995). McCoy, G., ‘Rhetoric and realpolitik: the Irish language movement and the British government’, in H. Donnan and G. McFarlane (eds), Culture and Policy in Northern Ireland: Anthropology in the Public Arena (Belfast: Institute of Irish Studies (1997), pp. 117–138. McCoy, G., ‘Protestants and the Irish language in Belfast’, in F. de Brún (ed.), Belfast and the Irish Language (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2006), pp. 147–76. McEvoy, K., ‘Law, struggle, and political transformation in Northern Ireland’, Journal of Law and Society, 27/4 (2000), 542–71. McEvoy, K., Paramilitary Imprisonment in Northern Ireland: Resistance, Management, and Release (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001). McEvoy, K., Shirlow, P. and McElrath, K., ‘Resistance, transition and exclusion: politically motivated ex-prisoners and conflict transformation in Northern Ireland’, Terrorism and Political Violence, 16/3 (2004), 646–70. McGarry, J. and O’Leary, B., ‘Five fallacies: Northern Ireland and the liabilities of liberalism’, Ethnic and Racial Studies 18/4 (1995), 837–61. McGibbon, J., Ógra Speech at Catalan Youth Festival, http://ograshinnfein.blogspot.com/2007_07_01_archive.html (posted 20 July 2007, accessed 14 September 2008). McGlinchey, C., The Last of the Name: Edited and with an Introduction by Brian Friel (Belfast: Blackstaff Press, 1986). McGuigan, N., ‘The open air gallery of political art’, Circa, 8 (1983), 15–18. McGuffin, J., Internment (Dublin: Anvil Books Ltd, 1973). http://www.irishresistance books.com/internment/internment.htm (accessed 14 December 2008). McGuckian, M., Captain Lavender (Dublin: Gallery, 1994). McGuckian, M., Drawing Ballerinas (Dublin: Gallery, 2001). McKeown, L., Writing Our Own History (n.d., unpublished former Irish republican prisoner’s text). McKeown, L., ‘Jailtacht/Gaeltacht’, Cascando: The National Student Literary Magazine (1996), 43–9. McKeown, L., (a), Unrepentant Fenian Bastards: The Social Construction of an Irish Republican Prisoner Community (unpublished PhD thesis, the Queen’s University Belfast, 1998). McKeown, L., (b), ‘Back to the Blocks’, An Phoblacht/Republican News, http:// www.anphoblacht.com/archive/12-1998 (17 December 1998, accessed 10 September 2007). McKeown, L., Out of Time: Irish Republican Prisoners, Long Kesh 1972–2000 (Belfast: Beyond the Pale Publications, 2001).

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 221

04/04/2012 16:20

222 Jailtacht McKeown, L., ‘Launch of a new book on Bobby Sands’, http://www.indymedia.ie/ article/78341? (posted 11 September 2006, accessed 15 April 2007). McKittrick, D., ‘The Irish bombers: what sort of people are they?’, The Independent, http://www.independent.co.uk/news/the-irish-bombers-what-sort-of-people-are-they-1365039.html (26 September 1996). McKittrick, D., Kelters, S., Feeney, B. and Thornton, C., Lost Lives (London: Mainstream Publishing, 1999). McMillen, R., ‘Naimhdeas úr á chothú ag na haontachtaithe’, Beo, 8, http://www. beo.ie/print.php?content_id=606 (7 July 2008, accessed 5 July 2008). McMillen, R., (a), ‘Agallamh na seachtaine. Dúchas lan’, Foinse (28 June 2009). McMillen, R., (b), ‘Agallamh na seachtaine. Ag ealaíon in Éireann’, Foinse (19 April 2009). McQuillan, P., Native and Natural: Aspects of the Concepts of ‘Right’ and ‘Freedom’ in Irish (Cork: Cork University Press in association with Field Day, 2004). Miall, H., Ramsbotham, O. and Woodhouse, T., Contemporary Conflict Resolution (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1999). Miller, D., ‘The new battleground’, Planet: The Welsh Internationalist, 102 (1994), 74–9. Mistéil, S., ‘The Gaeltacht Quarter: promoting cultural promiscuity and wealth’, in F. de Brún (ed.), Belfast and the Irish language (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2006), pp. 184–92. Mistéil, P. (ed.), The Irish Language and the Unionist Tradition (Belfast: Ulster People’s College/Ultach Trust, 1994). Moen, D., An Examination of the Effect of Imprisonment on Irish Political Prisoners (unpublished MSc thesis, the University of Ulster, 1998). Moen, D., ‘Irish political prisoners and post hunger-strike resistance to criminalisation’, British Criminology Conference: Selected Proceedings, 3 (2000), http:// www.lboro.ac.uk/departments/ss/bsc/bccsp/vol03/moen.html (n.d., accessed 12 September 2007). Morrison, D., Then the Walls Came Down: A Prison Journal (Cork: Mercier Press, 1999). Morrison, D., ‘The lasting joy of a great friendship’, Daily Ireland (30 August 2006). Mühlhausen, L., ‘Contributions to the Study of the Tangible Material Culture of the Gaoltacht’, Journal of Cork Historical and Archaeological Society, 38 (1933), 67–71; 39 (1934), 41–51. ‘Muiris Mag Ualghairg’, [ULLANS] no native speakers returned?, http://archiver. rootsweb.com/th/read/ULLANS/2003-12/1070544146 (posted 4 December 2003, accessed 1 December 2007). Muldoon, P., To Ireland, I (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000). Muller, J., Language and Conflict in Northern Ireland and Canada: A Silent War (Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010). Muller, J., The Road Towards the Irish Language Act in the North of Ireland (unpublished PhD thesis, the University of Ulster, 2007). Murray, C., ‘Untitled review of The Writings of Brendan Behan by Colbert Kearney’, Studies: An Irish Quarterly Review, 67/265–6 (Spring – Summer 1978), 116–18.

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 222

04/04/2012 16:20

bibliography 223 Nash, C., ‘Irish placenames: post-colonial locations’, Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers, 24/4 (1999), 457–80. ‘nathair’, no title, http://groups.yahoo.com/group/PADDYISH/messages/1064?threa ded=1&m=e&var=1&tidx=1 (posted 13 August 2001, accessed 26 March 2008). Nef, J., ‘Symbolic politics’, New Internationalist, 161, http://www.newint.org/ issue161/symbolic.htm (July 1986, accessed 14 May 2008). ‘The Newsletter’ (anonymous), ‘DUP fights back against “erosion of Britishness”’, The Newsletter, http://www.newsletter.co.uk/politics/DUP-fights-back-against39erosion.4219485.jp (25 June 2008, accessed 6 January 2009). The Northern Ireland Assembly – Official Report, (a), Irish Language, http://www. niassembly.gov.uk.record/reports2007/071009.htm (9 October 2007, accessed 16 October 2007). The Northern Ireland Assembly – Official Report, (b), Ministerial Statement: Outcome of Proposed Irish Language Legislation Consultation Process, http:// www.niassembly.gov.uk.record/reports2007/071016.htm (16 October 2007, accessed on 3 November 2007). Nic Craith, M., Culture and Identity Politics in Northern Ireland (Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003). Nic Craith, M., ‘Politicised linguistic consciousness: the case of Ulster-Scots’, Nations and Nationalism, 7.1 (2001), 21–37. Ní Dhomhnaill, N., Pharaoh’s Daughter (Dublin: Gallery Books, 1990). Ní Mhaille, G., ‘Towards a cultural identity’, Iris (November 1982), 28–9. Northern Ireland Office [NIO], The Agreement: Agreement Reached in the MultiParty Negotiations (Belfast: HMSO, 1998). Northern Ireland Office [NIO], file, NIO/12/49 General Censorship etc. Letters. Prisoners. Northern Ireland Office [NIO], file, NIO/12/110 Special Category. Ending of Special Category Status. Protesting Prisoners Periodical Review. ‘Northern exposure’ (anonymous), The Irish Times, 29 May 1995 . Ó Broin, S., ‘Béal Feirste go brách’, Iris, 01, http://homepage.ntlworld.com/irial. macginley/irishcambridgfe/iris1.pdf (2001, accessed 10 September 2007). Ó Cadhain, M., Cré na Cille: Aithris i nDeich Neadarlúid (Baile Átha Cliath: Sáirséal agus Dill, 1948). Ó Cadhain, M., Ar Céalacan, ar Stailc Ocrais in aghaidh na n-Ocastóirí (Baile Átha Cliath: Misneach, 1966). Ó Conchúir, P., ‘A cloth fáinne in the Jailtacht’, English Today, 12 (October 1987), 5. Ó Conghalaigh, T., The Betrayed North of my Soul, Mebdh McGuckian Papers 1964–2006, Series 3: Writings by others, Box 32, Folder 15, Emory Libraries, Manuscripts, Archives and Rare Book Library (n.d., 1994?). O’Connor, F., ‘Irish as a political football’, The Irish Times (29 December 2006). O’Connor, L., ‘Translation through the Macaronic: Gearóid Mac Lochlainn’s Sruth Teangacha/Stream of Tongues’, New Hibernia Review, 13/1 (2009), 73–94. Ó Corráin, D. and Maguire, F., Irish Names (Dublin: Lilliput Press, 1990). Ó Dochartaigh, C., ‘Irish in Ireland’, in G. Price (ed.), Languages in Britain and Ireland (Oxford: Blackwell, 2000), pp. 6–36.

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 223

04/04/2012 16:20

224 Jailtacht Ó Dochartaigh, N., Internet Research Skills (London: Sage Publications, 2007). Ó Dónaill, É., ‘Máire Killoran’, Beo, 52, http://www.beo.ie/index.php?page=archive_ content&archive_id=1561 (August 2005, accessed 14 May 2008). O Dónaill, N., Foclóir Gaeilge – Béarla (Baile Átha Cliath: Oifig an tSoláthair, 1977). O Dónaill, R., Seachtain ar an Bhlaincéad (Belfast?: Coisde Náisiúnta H-Blocanna/ Ard Mhacha, 1981). Ó Donnghaile, N., ‘Fáine a lonraigh sa phríosún is amuigh’, Nuacht 24 (19 February 2009), 12–13. O’Duffy, B., ‘Violence in Northern Ireland 1969–1994; sectarian or ethno-national?’, Ethnic and Racial Studies, 18/4 (1995), 740–72. O’Dwyer, E., ‘Remembering 1981: Former hunger striker Laurence McKeown’s story’, An Phoblacht/Sinn Féin Weekly, http://www.anphoblacht.com/news/ detail/14079 (4 May 2006, accessed 12 January 2009). O’Faoláin, S., ‘The Gaoltacht tradition’, The Irish Statesman, 6/7 (24 April 1926), 176. ‘Oglach Sean Savage’ (anonymous), http://www.bebo.com/Profile.jsp?MemberId =5301093682 (accessed 8 April 2008). Ó hAdhmaill, F., Suirbhé ar an Ghaeilge in Iarthar Bhéal Feirste: A Survey on the Irish Language in West Belfast (Béal Feirste: Glór na nGael, 1985). Ó hAdhmaill, F., The Function and Dynamics of the Ghetto: A Study of Nationalist West Belfast (unpublished PhD thesis, the University of Ulster, 1990). O’Hagan, F. (ed.), Eirí na Gealaí – Reflections on the Culture of Resistance in Long Kesh (Belfast: Sinn Féin, 1991?). O’Hearn. D., Bobby Sands: Nothing but an Unfinished Song (London: Pluto Press, 2006). Ó hUid, T., Ar Thóir mo Shealbha (Baile Átha Cliath: Foilseacháin Náisiunta Teoranta, 1960). Ó hUid, T. (1985) Faoi ghlas (Westport, Co. Mayo: Foilseacháin Náisiunta Teoranta). Oifig an tSoláthair, Gramadach na Gaeilge agus Litriú na Gaeilge: An Caighdeán Oifigiúil (Baile Átha Cliath: Oifig an tSoláthair, 1979). Ó Loinsigh, S., ‘Saoirse nó daoirse?’, Iris (November 1982), 27–8. O’Mahony, S., Frongoch: University of Revolution (Killiney: FDR Teoranta, 1987). Ó Maolchraoibhe, P., ‘The role of the language in Ireland’s cultural revival’, in Sinn Féin, The Role of the Language in Ireland’s Cultural Revival (Belfast: Sinn Féin, 1986), pp. 1–10. Ó Maolmhichíl, L., ‘Agallamh’, Foinse (4 May 2008), 17. Ó Muilleoir, M., ‘Na laochra abú ach ná déanamis dearmad orthu uilig‘, From the Balcony, A Publisher’s Blog, http://apublishersblog.blogspot.com/2007_02_25_ archive.html (posted 3 March 2007, accessed 30 October 2008). Ó Muilleoir, M., ‘The necessity for cultural liberation’, in Sinn Féin, The Role of the Language in Ireland’s Cultural Revival (Belfast: Sinn Féin, 1986), pp. 20–3. Ó Muilleoir, M., ‘Mini-choláiste’, An Phoblacht/Republican News (25 July 1985), 11. Ó Muirí, P., ‘Sinn Fein Irish is enough to make you sic’, The Belfast Telegraph, http://www.belfasttelegraph.co.uk/opinion/columnists/pol-o-muiri/sinn-feinirish-is-enough-to-make-you-sic-14189714.html (16 February 2009, accessed 9 July 2009).

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 224

04/04/2012 16:20

bibliography 225 Ó Muirthile, L., ‘Gol na mban san ár’, The Irish Times (9 September 1994), 10. Ó Murchú, S. , ‘H3’, The Blanket: A Journal of Protest and Dissent, http://www. anphoblacht.net/h3.html (2002, accessed 6 November 2007). Ó Murchú, S. , (a), ‘Say it in Breac n’ English’, The Blanket: A Journal of Protest and Dissent , http://www.anphoblacht.net/breacnenglish941g.html (2004, accessed 6 November 2007). Ó Murchú, S., (b), ‘Eternal elves of the west’, The Blanket: A Journal of Protest and Dissent, http://www.phoblacht.net/phprint.php (7 December 2004, accessed 27 March 2008). Ó Murchú, S., (c), ‘“A house ransacked by soldiers”: translation’s plunder and preservation’, The Blanket: A Journal of Protest and Dissent, http://indiamond6. ulib.iupui.edu:81/phprint.php (7 June 2004, accessed 21 August 2008). O’Neill, S., ‘SF youth drops petrol bomb logo’, The Irish News (11 January 2005). O’Rawe, R., Blanketmen: An Untold Story of the H-Block Hunger Strike (Dublin: New Island, 2005). O’Reilly, C., ‘The Irish language – litmus test for equality? Competing discourses of identity, parity of esteem and peace process’, Irish Journal of Sociology, 6 (1996), 154–78. O’Reilly, C., ‘The Irish language as symbol: visual representations of Irish in Northern Ireland’, in A. D. Buckley (ed.), Symbols in Northern Ireland (Belfast: Institute of Irish Studies, 1998), pp. 43–62. O’Reilly, C., The Irish Language in Northern Ireland: The Politics of Culture and Identity (Houndmills: Macmillan, 1999). Ó Sioradáin, P., Dialann Ocrais: Diary of a Hunger Strike (Béal Feirste: Foilsiú Feirste, 1991) (see also under Sheridan, P. (1991)). Ó Snodaigh, A., ‘An teanga agus an réabhloid’, An Phoblacht/Republican News, http://www.anphoblacht.com/news/print/13500 (16 March 2006, accessed 21 September 2007). Ó Súilleabháin, D., ‘Céalacan’, Comhar, 25/5 (May 1966), 7–11. Ó Súilleabháin, M., Fiche Blian ag Fás (Baile Átha Cliath: Clólucht an Talbóidigh, 1933). ‘P’, no title, http://uk.groups.yahoo.com/group/ulsteririshstudy/message/129 (n.d., accessed 19 August 2008). Patel, R., ‘Preface’, in R. Patel (ed.), Mahmoud Darwish: A River Dies of Thirst (Diaries) (Beirut and London: Saqi Books, 2009), pp. 11–20. ‘Peannchairde’ (anonymous), Lá (1 February 1996), 1. Plato (translated Desmond Lee), The Republic (London: Penguin Books, 1987). ‘Prison Struggle’ (anonymous), Prison Struggle: The Story of Continuing Resistance Behind the Wire (Belfast: Republican Press Centre, 1977). Pritchard, R. M. O., ‘Protestants and the Irish language: historical heritage and current attitudes in Northern Ireland’, Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development, 25/1 (2004), 62–82. Purbrick, L., ‘The architecture of containment’, Belfast Exposed, http://www. belfastexposed.org/themedpackages/index.php?id=3&sid=117&pid=46 (n.d., accessed 28 September 2007).

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 225

04/04/2012 16:20

226 Jailtacht Quiggin, E. C., A Dialect of Donegal: Being the Speech of Meenawania in the Parish of the Glenties: Phonology and Texts (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1906). ‘Rebecca Ní Críocháin’, no title, http://www.bebo.com/Profile.jsp?MemberId =3351745036 (n.d., accessed 15 July 2008). Richmond, O. P. , ‘Realizing hegemony? Symbolic terrorism and the roots of conflict’, Studies in Conflict and Terrorism, 26 (2003), 289–309. ‘Robert’, Diploma sa Gaeilge, http://www.daltai.com (n.d., accessed 16 August 2008). Robinson, K., Ulster Unionist Party Member of the Legislative Assembly for East Antrim, The Northern Ireland Assembly – Official Report, 9 October 2007. Rolston, B., Politics and Painting: Murals and Conflict in Northern Ireland (Cranbury, NJ: Associated University Presses, 1991). Rolston, B., Drawing Support: Murals in the North of Ireland (Belfast: Beyond the Pale Publications, 1992). Rolston, B., Drawing support 2: Murals of War and Peace (Belfast: Beyond the Pale Publications, 1995). Rolston, B., ‘The brothers on the walls: international solidarity and Irish political murals’, Journal of Black Studies, 39 (2009), 446–70. Rolston, B. and Tomlinson, M. (1986) ‘Long-term imprisonment in Northern Ireland: psychological or political survival?’, in B. Rolston and M. Tomlinson (eds) The Expansion of the European Prison System (Belfast: European Group for the Study of Deviance and Social Control, 1986), pp. 162–83. Rolston , B. and Tomlinson, M., ‘The challenge within: prisons and propaganda in Northern Ireland’, in Tomlinson, M., Varley, T. and McCullagh, C. (eds), Whose Law and Order? (Belfast: The Sociological Association of Ireland, 1988), pp. 167–92. ‘Róman’, How many ppl speak it?, http://www.daltai.com (posted 26 March 2006, accessed 16 August 2008). Ruane, J. and Ruane, J., The Dynamics of Conflict in Northern Ireland: Power, Conflict and Emancipation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996). ‘Ruben Ortiz-Torres’, For the Record, http://rubenortiztorres.org/for_the_record/ labels/Ireland.html (13 August 2007, accessed 14 April 2009). Ryder, C., ‘Ulster-Scots will trip off tongue soon as minority language’, The Irish Times (13 May 1999). Ryder, C., Inside the Maze: The Untold Story of the Northern Ireland Prison Service (London: Methuen, 2000). Rymes, B., ‘Names’, in A. Duranti (ed.), Key Terms in Language and Culture (Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2001), pp. 158–61. Sands, B., Writings from Prison (Cork: Mercier Press, 1998). Sands, B., Skylark Sing your Lonely Song: An Anthology of the Writings of Bobby Sands (Cork: Mercier Press, 1991). ‘Sarah Keating’, http://skin.bebo.com/Profile.jsp?MemberId=707879015 Scott, J., Domination and the Arts of Resistance: Hidden Transcripts (New Haven: Yale University Press,1990; new ed. 1992).

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 226

04/04/2012 16:20

bibliography 227 Scott, J., Power (Cambridge: Polity Press, 2000). Scraton, P., Sim, J. and Skidmore, P., Prisons under Protest (Milton Keynes: Open University Press, 1991). ‘Seán Mac Suibhne’, no title, http://www.smouhi.ac.uk/~smacsuib/altanna/013358. htm (accessed 4 December 2007). ‘Seán Mór’, ‘Ag foghlaim Gaeilge’, An Phoblacht/Republican News, http://www. anphoblacht.com/letters/2004-07-15 (15 July 2004, accessed 4 December 2007). Searle, J. R., ‘Proper names’, Mind 67 (1958), 166–73. Sedgwick, E., Touching Feeling: Affect, Pedagogy, Performativity (Durham, North Carolina: Duke University Press, 2003). ‘serpentjaguar’, no title, http://www.reddit.com/comments/652on/the_victorian_ holocaust_hitler_and_stalin_were/#c02v13z (post submitted 10 January 2008, accessed 18 August 2008,). ‘Shell C’, http://upload.bebo.com/Profile.jsp?MemberId=4585118042 Sheridan, P. , Dialann ocrais. Diary of a Hunger Strike (Belfast: Foilsiú Feirste, 1991). Shirlow, P., Graham, B., McEvoy, K., Ó hAdhmaill, F. and Purvis, D., Politically Motivated Former Prisoner Groups: Community Activism and Conflict Transformation. A Research Report Submitted to the Northern Ireland Community Relations Council August 2005 (unpublished report, 2005). Shovlin, F., The Irish Literary Periodical, 1923–1958 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003). Silberstein, S., War of Words: Language, Politics and 9/11 (London: Routledge, 2002). Sinden, P., ‘Michael Fassbender: on playing Bobby Sands in Hunger’, The Daily Telegraph (18 October 2008). ‘Sinéad’, no title, http://www.myspace.com/xignorancewasblissx (29 June 2007, accessed 18 August 2008). Sinn Féin, Ag Foghlaim na Gaeilge: Leabhrán Eolais agus Díospóireachta/Learning Irish: A Discussion and Information Booklet (Belfast: Sinn Féin, 1984). Sinn Féin, The Role of the Language in Ireland’s Cultural Revival (Belfast: Sinn Féin, 1986). ‘Sionnach’, Jailtacht, http://wordie.org/words/jailtacht (posted 2007?, accessed 30 November 2007). Sluka, J., ‘Participant observation in violent social contexts’, Human Organization 49 (1990), 114–26. Sluka, J., ‘The politics of painting: political murals in Northern Ireland’, in C. Nordstrom and J. Martin (eds), The Paths to Domination, Resistance and Terror (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1992). Sontag, S., Styles of Radical Will (London: Picador, 2008). Sorenson, J., ‘Peripheral visions: remaking the map of British cultural history (Essay review)’, Eighteenth century: theory and interpretation, 40/1 (Spring 1999): 68(13). Expanded Academic ASAP. Thomson Gale. Cardiff University (accessed 3 April 2007) http://find.galegroup.com/itx/infomark.do?&contentSet=IACDocuments&type=retrieve&tabID=T002&prodId=EAIM&docId=A80605895& source=gale&srcprod=EAIM&userGroupName=ucw_itc&version=1.0.

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 227

04/04/2012 16:20

228 Jailtacht ‘Sos Cogaidh’, 2004 source: TG4, 2004 Sparks, R., Bottoms, A. and Hay, W., Prisons and the Problem of Order (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996). Stanage, N., ‘Chuck Schumer, Militant Republican’, The New York Observer, http:// www.observer.com/node/31683 (8 March 2007, accessed 26 June 2007). Stapleton, K. & Wilson, J., A Discursive Approach to Cultural Identity: The Case of Ulster Scots (Belfast Working Papers in Language and Linguistics 16, the University of Ulster 2003), pp. 57–71. Stegen, O., ‘Style and sociolinguistic variation’, SIL Electronic Book Reviews 2006– 005 http://www.sil.org/silebr/2006/silebr2006-005 (2006, accessed 11 September 2008). Steiner, G., Language and Silence (London: Faber and Faber, 1985). ‘Steph CreaNer’, no title, http://www.bebo.com/Profile.jsp?MemberId=1884379041 (accessed 19 August 2008). Súil eile. Sos cogaidh (TG4, first broadcast 2004, rebroadcast 2008) (TV programme). ‘Sunday Life’(anonymous), ‘Jailic speakers face extinction’, The Sunday Life (3 October 1993), 6. Sweeney, G., ‘Self-immolation in Ireland: hungerstrikes and political confrontation’ Anthropology Today, 9/5 (1993), 10–14. Sykes, G. M., The Society of Captives: A Study of a Maximum Security Prison (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1958). Taylor, P., Provos: the IRA and Sinn Féin (London: Bloomsbury Publishing plc, 1997). Thompson, J. B., ‘Editor’s introduction’, in P. Bourdieu, Language and Symbolic Power (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1991), pp. 1–31. Thorne, S., The Language of War (London: Routledge, 2006). Toch, H., Living in Prison: The Ecology of Survival (Hyattsville: American Psychological Association, 1992). Toolis, K., Rebel Hearts: Journeys within the IRA’s Soul (New York: Picador, 1995; new ed. 1996). ‘tortipede’, no title, http://community.livejournal.com/linguaphiles/3312963.html (posted 7 July 2007, accessed 19 August 2008). Linen Hall Library, Troubled Images: Posters and Images of the Northern Ireland Conflict from the Linen Hall Library, Belfast (Belfast: Linen Hall Library) (CD-ROM) Tucker, D., ‘What is new about the new terrorism and how dangerous is it?’, Terrorism and Political Violence 13/3 (2001), 1–14. ‘Unrepentant Fenian Bastard’ http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid+ 20071219032456AADUWPK (accessed 24 December 2007). ‘Vandals in Language Blunder’, http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/northern_ireland/ 478513.stm (18 October 1999, accessed 3 July 2008). Van Leeuwen, Th., Introducing Social Semiotics (London: Routledge, 2005). Van Leeuwen, Th., Discourse and Practice: New Tools for Critical Analysis (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008). Viggiani, E., Public Forms of Memorialisation in Belfast, http://cain.ulst.ac.uk/ viggiani/menu.html (2006, accessed 12 June 2009).

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 228

04/04/2012 16:20

bibliography 229 Virilio, P., Ground Zero (London: Verso, 2002). Wardlaw, G., Political Terrorism: Theory, Tactics and Counter Measures (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986). Walsh, S. and Mac Ionnrachtaigh, F., ‘Radical plan for language revival outlined: Irish is central to republican struggle’, An Phoblacht/Republican News, http://www.anphoblacht.com/news/print/12288 (8 December 2005, accessed 21 September 2007). Walsh, S., ‘Book review: Contemporary Irish republican prison writing – writing and resistance’, An Phoblacht/Republican News, reproduced at Saoirse 32 http:// saoirse32.blogsome.com/2008/07/20/book-review-contemporary-irish-republican-prison-writing-writing-and-resistance/trackback/ (17 July 2008, accessed 19 July 2008). Walsh, S., ‘Irish must be part of republican vision for the future’, An Phoblacht/ Republican News, http://www.anphoblacht.com/news/print/15166 (20 July 2006, accessed 21 September 2007). Watson, J., ‘Brightening the place up?’, Circa (1983), 4–10. ‘weburbanist’, Beyond the Troubles, http://weburbanist.com/2007/08/03/beyondthe-troubles-murals-of-belfast-northern-ireland/ (3 August 2007, accessed 12 February 2009). Welch, R., The Oxford Companion to Irish Literature (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996). Whalen, L., Contemporary Irish Republican Prison Writing: Writing and Resistance (Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008). Whelan, P., ‘Irish on the blanket’, in F. O’Hagan (ed.), Eirí na Gealaí – Reflections on the Culture of Resistance in Long Kesh (Belfast: Sinn Féin, 1991), pp. 2–5. White, B. ‘Minding their languages’, The Belfast Telegraph (31 July 2007). White, V., ‘Murals without the masks’, The Irish Times (3 September 1996). Whyte, J., Interpreting Northern Ireland (Oxford: Clarendon, 1990). Wikipedia, Béarlachas, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bearlachas (accessed 19 August 2008). Wilson, R. McLiam, Eureka Street (London: Minerva, 1997). Wilkinson, P., Terrorism versus Democracy (London: Frank Cass, 2001). Wittgenstein, L., Philosophical Investigations (Oxford: Blackwell, 1953). Woods, O., Seeing is Believing? – Murals in Derry (Derry: Guildhall Press, 1995). Wright, M. and McGrory, O. (2005) ‘Motivation and the adult Irish language learner’, Educational Research, 47/2 (2005), 191–204. Wylie, D. (ed.), The Maze (London: Granta Books, 2004). Zamble, E. and Porporino, F. J., Coping, Behaviour and Adaptation in Prison Inmates (New York: Springer-Verlag, 1988). Žižek, S., Welcome to the Desert of the Real (London: Verso, 2002).

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 229

04/04/2012 16:20

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 230

04/04/2012 16:20

index Adams, Gerry (aka Gearóid Mac Adaimh, Brownie) 4, 19, 33, 40, 46, 48, 52, 66, 86, 93–4, 112, 150–3, 157–9 An Glór Gafa 4, 38, 42, 68 An Phoblacht 4, 16, 29, 33, 40, 88, 96, 142 argot 51, 53, 79, 92–4, 112 Ár nGuth Fhéin 4 Austin, John L. 83 Ballagh, Robert 122 Baudrillard, Jean 179, 181 Belfast Gaelic 149 Beresford, David 33, 94, 160–2, 177 Bourdieu, Pierre 6, 108, 181 Butler, Judith 6 (the) cages 15–18, 20, 23, 25–6, 30, 37–9, 46, 48–52, 66, 83–4, 87, 91–2, 97–8, 103, 112, 114, 120, 148, 153, 155–8, 167 Campbell, Brian 4, 49, 66–8, 75–6, 87, 93, 112 Campbell, Gregory 167, 169–70 Campbell, Kevin 26 Campbell, Máirtín 164 Carson, Ciarán 52 céalacán (also céalacan, cealachan, ciallacan) 63, 68–9, 159, 161–3 Chomsky, Noam 108 Cnamh, Seosamh (also Seosamh Cnámh) 68, 88 Coiste na nIarchimí (aka Coiste) 3, 172–3 Coupland, Nik 5, 45 Darwish, Mahmoud 183

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 231

Deleuze, Gilles 6 Devenny, Danny 111, 136 faoileán 95 Feldman, Allen 19–20, 24, 55, 85–7, 94–5, 149, 161 Fianna Fáil Gaelic 148–9, 153, 163–4 Fianna Fáil Irish 151 Fitzpatrick, Jim 124, 126 Foras na Gaeilge 2, 44, 182–3 Foucault, Michel 6, 84, 110 fuiseog (also fuiseóg) 27, 43, 72–4, 86 Gaelic (Irish language) 1, 20, 24, 25, 32–3, 55, 60, 65, 70, 76, 83, 85–6, 94, 95, 100, 103–6, 118, 149, 155, 161, 164, 176 Gaelic culture / tradition 162, 164, 166 (The) Gaelic League (also Conradh na Gaeilge) 17, 42, 107, 117, 154, 156 Gaelic font 46, 47, 56, 65, 110, 112–15, 118, 120–1, 123, 125, 127–8, 137, 145 Gaelic games 38, 89 Gaelic hut(s) 18, 88, 155 Gaelic revival 162 Gaelic romanticism 161 Gaelic script 48 Gaelic warriorhood 65 Gaeltacht 1, 6, 12, 16–19, 38, 47, 69, 80, 88–90, 114, 154–7, 171–7 Gaeltacht hut 18–20, 37, 69, 91 Gaeltacht landing 91 Gaeltacht wing 39–41 Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige 39, 41–3, 74–5, 91 Gaeltacht Quarter (aka Ceathrú na Gaeltachta) 44, 169, 170–3, 178

04/04/2012 16:20

232 Jailtacht

Long Kesh, HMP 4, 15–16, 19–20, 49–51, 86, 89–91, 97, 107, 112, 148, 156–8, 164–6, 176 Longwell, Alan Andrew 4, 20–1 loyalist(s) 4, 11–12, 15, 30, 36, 39, 50, 65, 99, 148, 163–7, 170, 177

Mac Aoidh, Gearóid (aka Gerry Magee, Gearóid Mac Aoide) 39, 42, 91, 108, 137 Mac Cormaic, Eoghan 37, 89, 108 Mac Giolla Ghunna, Mícheál 70 Mac Grianna, Seosamh 157 Mac Ionnrachtaigh, Feargal 23, 53–4, 154 Mac Lochlainn, Gearóid 79, 100–1 Mac Póilin, Aodán 42–3, 166–7 Mac Siacais, Gearóid (aka Jake Mac Siacais, Jake Jackson, An Siacsach) 19, 23, 25, 27, 54, 98–9, 172 Maghaberry, HMP 4, 107, 165 Maguire, Gabrielle 80 Maze, HMP the 4, 12, 20–1, 70, 86, 90, 103–4 McAllister, Jimmy 39–41, 91 McCormick, Jonathan 65, 109, 111, 141–2 McCoy, Gordon 165–6 McFarlane, Brendan ‘Bik’ 27, 40, 94–5 McGuckian, Medbh 74–5 McGurran, Rosie 132 McKearney, Tommy 77–8, 97 McKeown, Laurence (aka Labhrás Mac Eoin, Lorcán) 4, 8, 22, 29, 34–5, 39, 75–6, 87, 90–2, 96–7, 173 McMullan, Jackie 22 McQueen, Steve 77, 102 Miró, Joan (aka Joan Miró i Ferrà) 126–7 Mistéal, Seosamh 171–2 mo chara 34, 57–8, 79, 101, 111, 122, 132, 134 Moen, Declan (aka Deaglán Ó Mocháin) 4, 41, 43, 70 Morrison, Danny 4, 49, 99 múinteoir 19, 26, 61, 95, 97 Muldoon, Paul 72

Mac Airt, Proinsias (aka Francis / Frank Card, Frankie Cards) 17, 18, 76, 154

Ní Dhomhaill, Nuala 79 Northern Ireland Assembly 2, 44, 111, 168–9

Gaoltacht 170, 176–7 Glór na nGael 42, 113 Gramsci, Antonio 6 Guattari, Félix 6 H3 75–6 Halliday, Michael 5, 109–10 H-Block(s) 21–3, 25, 27, 30, 32–3, 36, 38–9, 43, 45–6, 53–4, 62, 66–7, 74, 77, 83–4, 87, 89, 91–2, 94, 97–9, 101, 103, 120, 122–3, 128, 131, 137, 153, 158, 163 Heaney, Seamus 75, 133 Hughes, Brendan ‘the Dark’ 35 Hughes, Francis 64, 66 Hunger 77, 102 ‘i ndíl chuimhne’ 121–3 Iris 4 Iris Bheag 38, 68 Irish Language Act 2, 139, 141, 167, 168 Jailic 1, 4–5, 27, 45–6, 48, 52–6, 58–60, 62, 65–6, 68–72, 75–7, 79–81, 83–4, 88, 91, 108, 122, 134, 144, 148–51, 153, 157, 163, 173, 177, 181, 183 Jarman, Neil 109, 111 Jaworski, Adam 5, 102 Kelly, Gerard ‘Mo Chara’ 111, 122–6, 132, 134, 145 Keenan, Eddie 155–7

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 232

04/04/2012 16:20

index 233 Ó Cadhain, Máirtín (also Máirtín Uí Cadhain) 42, 154, 156–7, 162–3, 177 Ó Cairealláin, Gearóid 69, 107 Ó Conghalaigh, Tarlac (aka Tarlach / Tarlac / Turlough Connolly) 39–40, 42, 71–2, 74–5, 98 Ó Fiaich, Tomás (Cardinal) 30, 54, 93–4 Ó Grianna, Séamus ‘Máire’ 157 Ó hAdhmaill, Féilim 40–1, 70, 99, 137 O’Hearn, Denis 17, 113–14 Ó hUid, Tarlach (aka Terry Wilson) 154–5, 157 Ó Maolchluiche, Liam 18, 23 Ó Muilleoir, Máirtín 68, 136, 153 Ó Muirí, Pól 151–2 Ó Murchú, Seaghan (aka John L. Murphy, Fionnchú, fionnchu) 76, 138, 140–1 O’Rawe, Richard (aka Rick O’Rawe, Ó Rathaigh) 4, 27, 60, 63, 86 O’Reilly, Camille 113, 115, 120 Ó Rúnaí, Pilib (aka Phillip Rooney) 30–1, 35–6, 54, 69, 97, 154, 157–9, 166 O’Toole, Slugger 43, 152 Paisley, Ian 152–3, 167 Patel, Ruth 183 Pickering, John 37, 89, 108 Plato 10–12 Pobal 138, 139 Poots, Edwin 140, 169 (The) Queen’s University Belfast 12, 70, 130 Robinson, Peter 2, 168 Rolston, Bill 4, 109, 115–16, 120–2, 126, 129–31, 137, 142 Sands, Bobby (aka Roibeard Ó Seachnasaigh, Roibeard Mac Sadair, Marcella) 19, 22–3, 26–7,

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 233

29, 31, 33–5, 44, 46–8, 56, 58–9, 63–4, 68–9, 72, 80, 86, 91, 94–8, 100, 113–14, 119, 121–2, 130, 144, 154, 159, 162–3, 171 Saoirse 40, 137 Scairt Amach 38, 68 scairteoir 25, 94 scéal 22, 49–51, 61, 67, 77, 86 Scullion, Colm 27, 29, 96 seanchaí 94–5 semiotic(s) 5–6, 109–10, 144 Shaw’s Road (Belfast) 12, 38, 113, 130, 171 Sheehan, Pat 40, 96 Sheridan, Peter (aka Peadar Ó Sioradáin) 69 silence 5, 22, 32, 57, 62, 73–4, 83–4, 94, 102–6, 134, 160 Sinn Féin 12, 16, 19, 38, 42–4, 49, 52, 68, 69, 89–90, 99, 107, 111, 113, 119–20, 130, 140, 142–3, 148–53, 164, 168, 170, 177 Smith, William 148–9, 164–5 Socrates 10 Sontag, Susan 102 symbol(s) 6, 48, 111, 113, 118, 121, 123, 129, 131, 133, 141, 168, 180 symbolic 1, 2, 5, 7, 83–4, 148, 160, 162, 177, 179–81 symbolic conflict 180 symbolic power 5, 181–2 symbolic violence 7, 181–2 teac 66–7, 76–7 tiocfaidh ár lá 49, 52, 55, 62–3, 79, 83, 115, 119–21, 129–30, 134, 141, 144–6, 150 Torres, Rubén Ortiz 144–5 treise 181–2 troscadh (also troscad) 159–63 Ulster Scots 43, 167–9, 177 Ultach Trust (also Iontaobhas Ultach) 42, 165–6 (The) University of Ulster 70, 132

04/04/2012 16:20

234 Jailtacht Van Leeuwen, Theo 109, 113–14, 118, 128 Walsh, Enda 77, 102 Walsh, Séanna (aka Séanna Breatnach / Breathnach, Sid Walsh) 16, 18–19, 23–4, 32, 36–7, 39-40, 43–4, 53–4,

3-Jailtacht endmatter.indd 234

77, 78, 80–1, 93, 98, 105, 111, 137, 164 Whelan, Peadar 25, 31, 61, 93 Wittgenstein, Ludwig 102, 123 Yeats, W. B. 147, 162, 177

04/04/2012 16:20