Say Nothing: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland,
by Patrick Radden Keefe
The Irish keep a reputation for having a touch of the Blarney, but those from the North tend to be a wee bit more reticent. This is where "the tight gag of place" takes over, as the poet Seamus Heaney puts it.
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| Patrick Radden Keefe |
Where to be saved you only must save face
And whatever you say, you say nothing
Patrick Radden Keefe explores this phenomenon, along with the North's reputation for minimizing what they euphemistically call "The Troubles." This description held for more than 30 years, despite people being dragged from their homes and beaten or shot to death, and despite more than 3,000 casualties from the late 1960s into the 1990s.
His book begins with a tale epitomizing this duality: The abduction of Jean McConville, a widowed mother of 10. As her children look on, she is taken from her Belfast flat in 1973, kidnapped and shot. Her body is buried, and is not found until 2003.
We don't immediately know what happened to her.
Keefe delves into the murder, its background, and the history and social order of the communities in which it took place. What comes out is a descriptive narrative of The Troubles, especially from the Catholic/Nationalist/Republican perspective.
Keefe acknowledges his book is not a comprehensive account, because it omits the Protestant/Loyalist viewpoint, and focuses on IRA activity, violence, and politics. But this is OK, because Irish Republicanism and its fight for independence has always been the driving force behind the Irish civil rights movements, and the resulting violence from both sides.
I know the history of The Troubles and have family and friends from Northern Ireland on both sides of the dispute. But this book hit home in presenting just how pervasive the violence was, and how instinctive the battle for Irish freedom is. Indeed, that is the heart of the book.
Keefe investigates McConville's disappearance and murder by interviewing dozens of people involved in The Troubles, and reading about and piercing together their stories. He gets a jump start after learning of an oral history project, whose records were kept at Boston College. Originally, the project planners pledged to ensure those who participated -- both IRA men and women and those from the Loyalist paramilitary organizations -- secrecy and anonymity until they were dead. But that idea fell apart when the Police Service of Northern Ireland got wind of the project and served warrants seeking information on the murders of McConville and similar people known as "the disappeared."
I originally thought Keefe had used the oral interviews for his book. But no; most of them were subsequently destroyed. Keefe actually did the legwork and interviews himself, tracking down family members of the victims, including McConville's children, and those who volunteered for the IRA and loyalist paramilitaries.
But one key figure refused to speak with Keefe: Gerry Adams, the longtime president of Sinn Fein, often described as the political wing of the IRA. For various reasons, Adams long has denied being a member of the IRA, a statement few actually believe.
Keefe is harshly critical of Adams, blaming him for ordering the murder of McConville, claiming she was a British informant. Adams has denied having anything to do with her death.
Keefe's also criticizes Adams for adamantly denying that he ever was a member of the IRA, whose volunteers were committed soldiers in a war, killing or sending men to die for love of country. Adams then turned around and negotiated a peace agreement that maintained the status quo, Keefe writes. Thus, he left those soldiers with neither the peace of mind of having their efforts validated, nor the comfort of acknowledging their commitment. In essence, Keefe suggests, Adams absolved his own behavior while betraying those who had volunteered to be soldiers for Ireland.
As one former IRA volunteer said of the predicament of those who followed in their forefathers' footsteps and fought what they considered to be the good fight for a just and rightful cause:
But here, Keefe, ultimately if cautiously, defends Adams: "Whatever callous motivations Adams might have possessed, and whatever deceptive machinations he might have employed, he steered the IRA out of a bloody and intractable conflict and into a brittle but enduring peace."
His book begins with a tale epitomizing this duality: The abduction of Jean McConville, a widowed mother of 10. As her children look on, she is taken from her Belfast flat in 1973, kidnapped and shot. Her body is buried, and is not found until 2003.
We don't immediately know what happened to her.
Keefe delves into the murder, its background, and the history and social order of the communities in which it took place. What comes out is a descriptive narrative of The Troubles, especially from the Catholic/Nationalist/Republican perspective.
I know the history of The Troubles and have family and friends from Northern Ireland on both sides of the dispute. But this book hit home in presenting just how pervasive the violence was, and how instinctive the battle for Irish freedom is. Indeed, that is the heart of the book.
Keefe investigates McConville's disappearance and murder by interviewing dozens of people involved in The Troubles, and reading about and piercing together their stories. He gets a jump start after learning of an oral history project, whose records were kept at Boston College. Originally, the project planners pledged to ensure those who participated -- both IRA men and women and those from the Loyalist paramilitary organizations -- secrecy and anonymity until they were dead. But that idea fell apart when the Police Service of Northern Ireland got wind of the project and served warrants seeking information on the murders of McConville and similar people known as "the disappeared."
I originally thought Keefe had used the oral interviews for his book. But no; most of them were subsequently destroyed. Keefe actually did the legwork and interviews himself, tracking down family members of the victims, including McConville's children, and those who volunteered for the IRA and loyalist paramilitaries.
But one key figure refused to speak with Keefe: Gerry Adams, the longtime president of Sinn Fein, often described as the political wing of the IRA. For various reasons, Adams long has denied being a member of the IRA, a statement few actually believe.Keefe is harshly critical of Adams, blaming him for ordering the murder of McConville, claiming she was a British informant. Adams has denied having anything to do with her death.
Keefe's also criticizes Adams for adamantly denying that he ever was a member of the IRA, whose volunteers were committed soldiers in a war, killing or sending men to die for love of country. Adams then turned around and negotiated a peace agreement that maintained the status quo, Keefe writes. Thus, he left those soldiers with neither the peace of mind of having their efforts validated, nor the comfort of acknowledging their commitment. In essence, Keefe suggests, Adams absolved his own behavior while betraying those who had volunteered to be soldiers for Ireland.
As one former IRA volunteer said of the predicament of those who followed in their forefathers' footsteps and fought what they considered to be the good fight for a just and rightful cause:
Think of the armed struggle as the launch of a boat ... getting a hundred people to push the boat out. This boat is stuck in the sand, right, and get them to push the boat out and then the boat sailing off and leaving the hundred people behind, right. The boat is away, sailing on the high seas, with all the luxuries that it brings, and the poor people that launched the boat are left sitting in the muck and the dirt and the shit and the sand.
But here, Keefe, ultimately if cautiously, defends Adams: "Whatever callous motivations Adams might have possessed, and whatever deceptive machinations he might have employed, he steered the IRA out of a bloody and intractable conflict and into a brittle but enduring peace."
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