AN IRISH BAPTIST TRAGEDY

They were gentlemen, they were hard-working men, they were not perfect but they were genuine, they were best friends. They were godly men; they did not talk about God, they just did God. They were just ordinary, but God made them extraordinary. 

Emma Spence, an artist, living on a working family farm at Drumlough, between Ballynahinch (54 degrees North, 5 degrees West) and Hillsborough (54 degrees North, 6 degrees West), tries to save her father, Noel (58) and her brothers Graham (30) and Nevin (22), when they succumb to deadly hydrogen sulphide fumes. The men are lost in a slurry pit, attempting to save a family pet and then each other.

The farm tragedy, the sporting prowess of the youngest son, Nevin – a star on the provincial and a sterling prospect for the national rugby team – the manly poise of the dead men, the courage and sensibility of Emma Spence, the sister who almost dies in the tragedy, lifts the horror out of the grim ordinariness of farm-accident deaths and onto the high planes of the universally tragic. 

The Spence family loss is of the order of a Greek tragedy, as seen in playwright Howard Benton's affirmation of Terry Eagleton's definition of Tragedy.

'Culture and death are not rivals at all. There is a tragic self-mutilation at the very root of civilisation.' This is what a modern tragedy would own up to: the strange sweetness of an aesthetic spectacle with suffering at its core.

Yet Eagleton notes that his Irishness complicates his view of Tragedy.

I remark that the Irish were put on this earth for other people to feel romantic about. But living in a small contentious island also has its drawbacks, not least if you’re a semi-outsider, like myself; you have to be careful sometimes. I don’t know. I suppose I always knew Ireland too well to feel romantic about it.

The Spence family are people who would pull you out of a ditch. 

Unromantically. Wonderfully. Humanly.

Speaking of her dead father and her dead brothers in turn, in simple, ardent words, Emma Spence, faces the tragedy with a dramatic litany that brings each individual into sharp focus and also links them as humans in a manner that links them to us all.

He’s the one who greeted you with a thump in the arm.

He’s also the one who had about 15 apps on his phone to check the weather forecast.

To me he is the one mum had the organic blueberries and prize-winning steak ready for when he called.

The Spence family find solace in their God. They are members of a small community of Baptists in the north-east of Ireland. Indigenous and incomers. Semi-outsiders.

They are joined in their grief by people all across Ireland. By farmers and sports-people in many different codes. By citizens and politicians of varying views. By people of differing religions and none.

The Spence God, who is achieved by scripture-based living and immersion in baptismal waters, is a God among many Gods. And no God. 

And Emma Spence. Who is God. To her, the robe and crown. And her bothers. Her father. Her mother, her sister and her sister-in-law, her niece and her nephew. 

Immanent and transcendent.

We resonate with their Baptist call: Oh, brothers and father, where art thou?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2qw6Hon013E

http://www.irishtimes.com/newspaper/ireland/2012/0920/1224324200825.html

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2002/sep/21/highereducation.news

http://www.oxonianreview.org/wp/an-interview-with-terry-eagleton/

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THE TOPLESS QUIZ

You may take the quiz in either a public or a private place, though the phrase 'public or private' may be meaningless in an age of mass surveillance, a 24-hour news cycle and integrated communication media using powerful lenses, satellite and digital technologies. 

You may or not remove your upper garments. It is your choice. 

You will be photographed. Many times and by many means. With and without your permission. 

You may use the answers given or, alternatively, you may provide your own. That generally works better. Good luck.

Is the woman, photographed topless in a French magazine, a woman?

Yes, and she is a wealthy aristocrat, a symbol of a country and a media celebrity in a line connecting with her late mother-in-law.

Are we shocked that a photograph of a woman wearing no clothes on her upper body appears in a magazine? 

No, we are not shocked. Many such images appear in magazines, websites, newspapers and in broadcast media every day, all across the globe, including in London (51 degrees North, 0 degrees West) tabloids.

Do the women who appear topless in London tabloids do so of their own volition?

Depends on how that is judged. Economic necessity is a strong force.

Why the uproar?

Hard to say.

Did the photographer and the owner of the French magazine break the law?

Yes, they broke French privacy laws.

Why?

Money.

Who owns the French magazine?

Follow the money. Far.

What is the context in which this occurs?

Wealth, privilege, media-courting, power, inequality, national symbolism, race/national/ethnic strain between England and France, threatened identities, a woman angry and upset, the battle between 'old' money and 'new' money, media-hating.

Why will the woman sue the French magazine?

To keep the London media at heel.

Will England and France go to war over this?

It is to be hoped not, as they are both grotesquely armed,  belligerent nations, with nuclear and other weapons of mass destruction and a long history of warmongering. There are, however, historical precedents for aristocrats leading citizens to their deaths in battles over land, chattels and women.

And gentlemen in England now a-bed

Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,

And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks

That fought with us upon Saint  Crispin's day.

Did the citizens photographed by surveillance cameras, whose images appeared in The Derry Journal, give their permission for the photographs to be taken?

No.

When was the last time your photograph was taken without your permission and circulated on private and public media?

I don't know.

Does all this matter?

Yes, though aspects act as a diversion, a money-maker and a media sideshow.

How will it end?

Not without effort. And a significant lessening of double-standards.

Thank you for taking the quiz. Do not send your answers to St. James Palace. The Palace is busy considering offers from  magazines for photographs of the likely christening of the woman's future child.  

Do not send your photo, topless or otherwise, to a tabloid of your choice.

The prize of a luxury house in Provence, France, has already been awarded to the young woman who appeared on the front page of The Derry Journal in a story about sleeping on the sofa in her paternal grandfather's home, with her two children, because she is homeless. She is advised to give up her job to better her chances of getting a house. A house in the south of France, even though it is near a public road, suits her and her children well.

Henry V; stage-play; William Shakespeare; 1599

www.derryjournal.com/

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THE TUTU SNUB

Find your mark, look the other fellow in the eye and tell the truth.

(James Cagney, actor)

A new action has entered the lexicon of performance on the stages of world affairs. It is coined by a top-ranking religious leader. In its first presentation it is targeted at a globe-trotting uber-politician and deal-smoother, one of a class of world figures who greases the levers of politics and commerce.

This new act is christened The Tutu Snub.

A long-time critic of the Iraq war, the archbishop pulled out of a South African conference on leadership last week because Blair, who was paid 2m rand (£150,000) for his time, was attending. It is understood that Tutu had agreed to speak without a fee.

'Christened' because it is first performed by a Christian Church leader long associated with human endeavours for race emancipation in The Anti-Apartheid Movement.

'Snub' because it involves an individual refusing to meet with, sit with, join with, support, collude or engage with another individual. 

It is widely practised informally, and for millennia, in private and domestic spheres.

'Tutu' because this commonplace private act has been integrated into the world theatre of public life by Archbishop Desmond Tutu.

The target of the first performance of The Tutu Snub is Tony Blair, recently on the public stage as the broker of a hugely beneficial deal for the global corporation Glencore with the government of Qatar. 

It is reasonable to assume that Tony Blair did not involve himself in that production without consideration of indirect and direct recompense. 

His startling position as a peace envoy in the Middle East positions him to benefit himself and his corporate associates.

If Tony Blair's cameo proves to be a deciding factor in winning support from Qatar for a Swiss commodity trader's $36 billion (22.5 billion pounds) bid for a giant mining firm, the former British prime minister could become a sought-after fixer in global finance.

'Startling' given Tony Blair's track record as a duplicitous war-monger in Iraq, cited as the motivation for Archbishop Tutu's act.

The originator of The Tutu Snub is to be commended for bringing this much-used private act into public life. It is to be hoped that others will apply it to Tony Blair in the future. And that instances of its use may also be directed at George Bush, though he rarely travels outside his enclave, limiting opportunities for The Tutu Snub to American actors in public life.

For to you, to the actor, it is not the words which carry the meaning – it is the actions.

Give yourself a simple goal on-stage, and accomplish it bravely.

A role for a latter-day James Cagney?

Citizens of the world, the audience for these performances in the theatre of public affairs, wait avidly.

Theatre is the act of resistance against all odds.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/politics/2012/sep/02/tony-blair-iraq-war-desmond-tutu 

http://uk.reuters.com/article/2012/09/11/uk-glencoreblairidUKLNE88A00G20120911

True and False: Heresy and Common Sense for the Actor: book; David Mamet; Faber and Faber; London; 1998

A Director Prepares: book; Anne Bogart; Routledge; London; 2001

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HURLING FURY

In the Irish myths we are told who the characters are, what their condition of life is, and where they lived and acted; the heroes and their fields of action are brought before us as if they were persons of today or yesterday.

Or tomorrow.

Mythic figures, in two squads, among them the heroic Tommy Walsh and Joe Canning, will run onto the green sward of Croke Park, a particular field of action in Dublin (53 degrees North, 6 degrees West), wearing the county colours of Kilkenny (52 degrees North, 7 degrees West) and Galway (53 degrees North, 9 degrees West) and face-guarded helmets. 

They will wield sculpted ash sticks, many of them strapped with metal and tape. They will face each other in serried rows, fifteen on fifteen, and immediately begin to jostle, elbow and pummel each other in a preliminary warm-up.

The shrill blast of a whistle and the launching of a small white leather sliotar into the central area of the field will focus the contest into the final bout of the season - the All-Ireland Final - of the most ancient field game in the world. 

Hurling.   

Carrying his hurly of brass, ball of silver, throwing javelin, and toy spear, he proceeded to the court city of Emania, where without so much of a word of permission, he dived right in among the boys – 'thrice fifty in number, who were hurling on the green and practising martial exercises with Conchobhar's son, Follamain, at their head.” The whole field let fly at him. With his fists, forearms, palms, and little shield he parried the hurlies, balls and spears that came simultaneously from all directions. Then, for the first time in his life, he was seized with his battle-frenzy (a bizarre, characteristic transformation later to be know as his “paroxysm” or “distortion”) and before anyone could grasp what was coming to pass, he had laid low fifty of the best.

This account, from The Book of Leinster, of the hurling fury of the Irish mythic hero Cú Chulainn, playing the game and experiencing the playing-out-of-his-skin moment, known in Irish as a ristradh, is spoken of by modern hurlers and pundits in print, broadcast and on-line media as a furious and passionate engagement that you 'go with', that sweeps you into an intense savagery that is alarming and engaging.

It invokes in older men, watching from the side of the field, a blood-boiling intensity, echoing the intensity on the field. And, as an Offaly (53 degrees North, 8 degrees West) man once remarked,  'You know the hurling is good when the women in the crowd are squealing.'  

Women play a form of hurling called camogie, with its own rules and character. There is also a Scottish form of hurling called shinty. 

What draws young men and women to this ferocious activity? Is it the frenzy? The chance to live a life mythologised, even for a brief period?

He shakes from head to foot and revolves within his skin, his features turn red, one eye becomes monstrously large while the other becomes tiny, his mouth grows huge and emits sparks, his heart booms in his chest, his hair becomes spiked and glowing and the 'warrior light' rises from his brow.   

Is this Tommy Walsh of Kilkenny? Or Joe Canning of Galway?

Tomorrow then. The ancient and the future in the furious now.

Myths and Legends of Ireland: Jeremiah Curtin; book; Sampson Low; London; 1890

The Hero with a Thousand Faces: Joseph Campbell; book; Princeton University Press; New Jersey; 1949

Myth, Legend and Romance: An Encyclopaedia of the Irish Folk Tradition: book; Dr. Daithí Ó hÓgáin; Ryan Publishing; London; 1990

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