Mary KennyEvery society has a version of the Irish saying about ‘one of our own’.
Some of the anti-EU results of the European elections will not, I imagine, be pleasing to the Pope, or the political outlook of the Catholic Church, which has always supported the concept of a united Europe.
A united Europe, after all, should be the logical successor to ‘Christendom’: and the EU’s founders, Jean Monnet and Robert Schuman were motivated by Christian and Catholic ideas of reconciliation and peace.
The underlying anti-immigrant tone of many of the successful parties will not be congenial news either.
In France, the Front National swept the board with a 25% share of the vote; in Denmark, the Danish People’s Party – against immigration and advocating welfare curbs on social benefits – obtained 27% of the vote.
In Austria, the Freedom Party, Eurosceptic and anti-immigrant, won a vote share of 29%.
In Britain, UKIP, led by Nigel Farage, campaigning for more controls on immigration and a referendum on the EU, got over 27% of the vote.
In Ireland, Sinn Fein’s victory wasn’t predicted on anti-immigrant rhetoric – rather on opposition to austerity and the political establishment: but its very name does underline national identity – ‘Ourselves Alone’.
A closer examination shows differences between the various voting patterns (and neither Spain, Italy, nor, surprisingly, Greece had a high anti-immigrant vote).
Yet there is a consistent point which emerges about human nature and human society: internationalism never quite trumps nationalism.
We may seek to be tolerant, as Christians, and we ought to be universalist: but no ruling international elite, whether that be Brussels or the panjandrums of the United Nations, truly wins the hearts and minds of the people.
Cultural identity runs deep, and is seldom successfully eliminated. Every society has a version of the Irish saying about ‘one of our own’.
Supporters of the European Union, its free movement of workers – and capital – will have to work hard to reconcile some of the high ideals of the founders with the democratically expressed concerns of the people.
Spare us this stylised drivel
John Banvilleís crime thriller series Quirke started last Sunday on BBC 1 (having already aired in Ireland), starring Gabriel Byrne. Seldom have the rain-spattered streets of Dublin in the 1950s been better portrayed as film noir.
But the underlying message of the story is that all Catholics are venal. If a character is attached to a religious organisation, or is seen entering a church, that is a sure signal that the character is a hypocrite, a swindler, a child-smuggler, or even a child-murderer. A nun or a priest will certainly be an illicit trafficker in stolen children, dodging the law, covering up child-killing, and susceptible to bribery and blackmail. An adoptive father of an infant, self-described as ìa good Catholicî, is a killer, a rapist, a blackmailer and a general swine.
Several times throughout the first episode, Quirke repeats his rejection of religion, making a melodramatic point of standing apart from the rest of the wicked humanity represented by Catholics.
Crime thrillers must have heroes (or anti-heroes) and villains, and it is unsurprising that Catholics and the Catholic Church are the current favourite candidates for the villainous role. But any writer makes an error of implausibility by over-egging the pudding. A writer who re-iterates a blatant message in a tub-thumping manner (The Times called the plot ìsignalled by TomTomî) is producing didactic pulp fiction.
John Banville should be made to sit down and watch the box set of Breaking Bad, the best ever TV crime series. This also carries an underlying message, but through complexity of character and sophistication of narrative. Even the most villainous conduct makes sense, because the writing is so intelligent. Whereas Quirke is just stylised drivel.
An extraordinary saga
The life story of Tony OíReilly, now 78, would make an extraordinary saga. This gifted magnate once bestrode the world of business and the media: from dashing international rugby star to billionaire host to the worldís celebrities at his stunning homes in Co. Kildare, and West Cork.
But he is now facing bank debts of Ä22.6million, and may have to sell not only his Castlemartin Estate, but the family graveyard attached to 750 acres of ìthe finest stud land in Irelandî.
Born technically illegitimate, Tony was, he told me, spotted as a gifted lad by the Jesuits in Belvedere at an early age, and he has always remained loyal to his Jesuit education.
I have known many media barons throughout my career, and Tony OíReilly was the most literate, amusing, knowledgeable and kind. His Greek wife, Chryss, is a wealthy woman so he is not quite down to his last crust, but his fortunes have waned dramatically as once they waxed.
But the saga is not yet over.