Real heroism has nothing to do with being a celebrity

Sunday Tribune, 1 August

'Hurricane Higgins is dead. Last photograph of the People's Champion.'
I had to stare at the picture for several seconds before I recognised Alex Higgins. He was lost in his overcoat and looked 90. It was shocking to see the man who had once been a twitchy, aggressive 'hurricane' looking as if a breeze could knock him over.
Tributes were cued up. 'Hero', 'maverick', 'legend'… and eventually nostalgia snookered common sense. Higgins wasn't a hero. He was a very good snooker player who, for a while, rose above humble beginnings but ultimately returned there. He was a gouger who had once threatened 'Mr Nice', Dennis Taylor. His life was a string of run-ins and scraps. He was a sad mess. He was loved by his fans, but he was no hero.
The obituaries recalled his hellraising. We like to make heroes of our hellraisers. Harris, Behan, Lynott: all heroes, because they had the whiff of sulphur and booze about them. What's heroic about being a charismatic drunk?
That said, Higgins will probably have a statue raised to him in Belfast – just as Boyzone's Stephen Gately is to have one raised in his memory in Dublin.
Gately was not a hellraiser, but he was charismatic. Like Higgins, he came from a humble background. Like Higgins, he used his talents to become famous and has been called a hero. This was for 'coming out'. He inspired other gay men to do likewise.
His friends had wanted Docklands railway station to be named after him. Instead they got a statue. There are many others who deserve statues before Gately. Does being a nice guy from a boy band really merit one? Maybe, but I'm not totally convinced.
The Gately memorial formed part of the silly season talk last week about renaming places after Irish heroes. Fianna Fáil want to rename Dublin Airport after Sean Lemass.
[Imagine the Yank tourists: "Gee honey, where are we?"
"Lame-ass airport, honey."]
There was a debate about renaming Cork's airport after Terence MacSwiney who starved himself to death during the War of Independence. Two other names that have been mentioned are Rory Gallagher and Christy Ring.
These memorial debates show how the lines between heroism and fame have become blurred in celebrity-obsessed Ireland. How can hurling a ball or playing guitar be more noteworthy than sacrificing your life as MacSwiney did?
Heroism is not defined by what you say, how well you play sport or sing. It's defined by what you are willing to lose.
There were two good examples of real 'everyday' heroism in the papers last week.
The first emerged from an Irish Times interview with comedian Des Bishop whose dad, Michael, is dying of cancer. He's based his new show, My Dad Was Nearly James Bond, on his life.
Bishop described how Michael had been a model and an actor, getting parts in Day of the Triffids and Zulu. He was even asked to audition for James Bond in On Her Majesty's Secret Service. He had the kind of fantasy life young men dream of.
Then, when Des was born, Michael turned his back on fame. He knew that acting wouldn't provide a steady income for his family so he became a retail manager.
"He gave that up to raise us in a stable way," says Bishop. "That is so much more heroic than any nonsensical James Bond, celebrity thing."
It struck a note. Des's dad is a hero for sacrificing his dream. Heroism isn't found at the end of a snooker cue or a microphone or a lens. It's found changing nappies when it could be sipping a vodka martini. Everyday heroism is about giving yourself up for the benefit of others.
The second example of everyday heroism came via Facebook. I got word that a hero of mine was celebrating finishing chemotherapy. Her name is Marie Carberry and she has been fighting breast cancer. She writes a diary about her experiences in the Evening Herald. It's brutally honest and very moving. It's also very, very funny. Here's an example:
"'Excellent, excellent,' the oncologist murmured. I would like to say he was talking about me as a whole package, but he was actually talking about the workmanship of the surgeon who had carried out the mastectomy..."
Marie's decision to write about her cancer is, presumably, part-cathartic. That doesn't undermine her bravery. When Jade Goody chose to film her cancer battle she was pilloried for it. Cancer, despite our general enlightenment, is still taboo.
Marie's sacrificing of her privacy will have helped many people facing into a similar situation. She's bared herself to educate others. No amount of maximum snooker breaks or CD sales can compare with that. She won't ever have an airport named after her. A statue's unlikely too. (Sorry, Marie.)
With this in mind, I've decided to dedicate this column to her instead. Statues are placed on columns, so we're halfway there, Marie. It's not much, but it will exist in cyber space for a few years. Someone's bound to come across it in the future and read the following words:
'Marie Carberry: you'll never be a snooker champion and I don't know if you can hold a tune, but you're a hero.
'A real hero – whether you like it or not.'

dkenny@tribune.ie

August 1, 2010

What has Orangeism ever done for Ireland but divide it?

Sunday Tribune, 25 July

Ten years ago, I was a guest at the Lord Mayor's Ball in Belfast. Sammy Wilson was hosting it. Sammy always struck me as a weasel-faced pup whenever I watched him on UTV. I felt uneasy as I entered City Hall.
I felt uneasy looking at the torn WWI pennants and the reminders of Belfast's loyal past. I felt that this was not a building for a southern taig like me. I was in a foreign country.
Initial misgivings gave way. People from the predominantly DUP gathering fell over themselves to make my group welcome. Sammy was the most genial of hosts. He spun around the dance floor like a rock and roll dervish. I liked him.
I had always suspected that TV's DUP monster must be human – and he was. I was still in a foreign country though. The pennants and sashes were as foreign to me as tricolours and rosary beads were to him.
I thought of those Somme-soaked pennants when I read about McDowell's reflections at the MacGill Summer School last week. Michael McWho? McDowell. Remember him? The Rottweiler. The PD leader. The Tánaiste. He's been locked in the attic since his defeat in 2007 and now wants back into the political fray. "I haven't gone away, you know!"
McDowell spoke about our Orange neighbours. The Republic is not inclusive enough of their tradition. The Twelfth of July should be added to St Patrick's Day as a national holiday, he said.
I nearly dropped my bowl of shamrock.
The Twelfth? A national holiday here? That glorious day of picnics in the sun? The day when all traditions bond in a spirit of harmony to celebrate the Battle of the Boyne? I rummaged through my pile of old newspapers. I saw the faces of protestors in the Ardoyne wreathed in smiles as the PSNI removed them from the street and the joyful raising of a glass or two – to those unfortunate constables' heads. The Glorious Twelfth – it always brings out the best in people, doesn't it?
Does McDowell seriously think we need to adopt this as a national holiday? He rightly says there are republican "psychos" who want a Balkans in the north. Is making the Twelfth a holiday going to stop them?
To correlate Patrick's Day with the Twelfth is bizarre too. It's a shared Christian celebration. Protestant and Catholic can both identify with it. The Twelfth celebrates one religion's victory over another. The state has recognised, through constitutional change, that the north is a foreign jurisdiction. The Twelfth is a foreign holiday. Why not make D-Day a holiday too? Why not make France's Bastille Day a public holiday? Or America's Fourth of July? We took our lead from those Republics. What has Orangeism ever done for this island but divide it?
Has McDowell forgotten about all those who head south to avoid the Twelfth? Has he forgotten the three Quinn children murdered in a Loyalist arson attack during the Garvaghy Road protests in 1998?
McDowell says he is a Republican who believes in inclusion. So do I.
I'm happy to see President McAleese host her Twelfth parties. They show Loyalists that we are happy to co-exist with them and respect their religious and political views.
Where McDowell's argument falls down about the state officially celebrating Orangeism is that the Orange Order doesn't want to embrace our state. It's a bigoted, anti-Catholic organisation that refuses to move into the 21st century. It is intolerant to the core. It won't even accept its own Assembly's blueprint for changing the way contentious parades are managed. Why should our Republic celebrate intransigence and the effect it has on morons like the ones in Ardoyne? Or at Drumcree? Or at the Love Ulster Rally in Dublin in 2006?
I don't want Orangeism foisted on me in the name of inclusion or republicanism. I don't want to be associated with bigotry, sectarianism or hatred – whatever colour it comes in.
I don't want Republican or Orange extremism celebrated in my name. The Twelfth is synonymous with all that is bad – on both sides – about the north's history. Respect for the opinions of others is the cornerstone of real republicanism. That also means respect for the opinions of people here – and I'm going to hazard a guess that most southerners don't want to be associated with the Twelfth.
McDowell's lofty idea would be easy to dismiss as the intellectual ramblings of a failed politician if he wasn't shaping up for a political recovery. Last week, he refused to say whether he was about to form his own political party or join Fine Gael.
Even his detractors admit he is a man of principle. There may still be a political role for him to play. However, if this is the best he can come up with to win support then he needn't hold his breath.
On the same day McDowell made his Twelfth suggestion, justice minister Dermot Ahern spoke about a "difficult" decision the government has just made.
It is discontinuing funding for Justice for the Forgotten. The group representing victims of the Dublin/Monaghan bombings says it will cease to exist at the end of the month as it has no money. The 33 dead and 300 Forgotten victims are to be forgotten again.
How about a public holiday to commemorate them, Michael?

dkenny@tribune.ie