This is the way republicans vent their spleen
Anyone who raises uncomfortable truths about Sinn Fein will be called a liar and worse, writes Matt Treacy
‘Sinn Fein spent 10 years in coalition implementing Tory cuts’
THERE is a scene in James Ivory’s film version of Kazuo Ishiguro’s The Remains of the Day in which the obsequious butler Stevens, portrayed by Anthony Hopkins, is subjected to questioning on issues of the day by one of Lord Darlington’s guests.
The point being on the part of his interlocutor to prove that proles like Stevens were not fit to be given a say on matters of state, hence the fallacy of democracy. Stevens brings the interrogation to an end by saying: “It is not my place to be curious about such matters.”
That may seem a strange analogy for the obscurantism that grips Sinn Fein from time to time, but it is not entirely misplaced. You believe what you are told, and ask no questions, nor be overly curious.
However, should anyone, especially from within the tent, raise uncomfortable issues, there are generally two responses: firstly, the heretic will be called a liar; then in tandem with that be accused of all sorts of personal foibles, often libellous. That is avoided by whispering campaigns that disseminate through the membership and support base, and by being dropped into the ears of journalists assumed to be sympathetic or naive enough to believe them.
Twice in this paper I have been accused by Sinn Fein of making stuff up. The first was when Maeve Sheehan wrote a piece based on my book, A Tunnel to the Moon, in which I detailed the pressure applied to myself and others to hand over a substantial part of our wages under threat of dismissal. Sinn Fein responded by claiming that such contributions were “voluntary”.
The documents I showed to Maeve, and to which she referred in a follow-up piece, show they were not voluntary. Indeed, they attempted to include such “contributions” in a contract that had no legal basis, given that people working in Leinster House were paid by the Oireachtas, that is the taxpayer. Not by Sinn Fein. They only collected the “vig”.
In the past week, I have been accused of inventing what I heard said about Mairia Cahill after she went public about her treatment at the hands of the republican movement. I was at a staff meeting at which several people vented their spleen at her, using language and accusations that if levelled against any other victim of sexual abuse would cause outrage. I doubt such observations were minuted, but they were made.
More recently, three Wicklow councillors who fell foul of the apparatchiks were accused of all sorts of things. But a whispering campaign is far more vicious. Gerry O’Neill, one of the councillors who were expelled, has been a member of the republican movement for 40 years. He was a Sinn Fein candidate in Wicklow when it was, as they say, neither safe nor popular. But that counts for nothing.
And there are many instances of the manner in which internal dissent is dealt with. They range from a person who told me that he had been threatened over a dispute regarding a candidate selection, to Westmeath councillor Paul Hogan eventually being cleared of a Soviet show-trial list of alleged offences following 18 months of internal “hearings” and personal vilification.
While all that was going on, a staffer in Leinster House was despatched to regale us with Hogan’s misdemeanours. My facial expression must have indicated that I was less than convinced, as the parting shot was: “Oh, and he tried to kill her dog.” ‘Freddie Starr ate my hamster’ for republican socialists.
Speaking of republican socialism, Sinn Fein have a strange way of putting it into practice. They spent 10 years between 2007 and the beginning of this year in coalition with the DUP, implementing an array of Tory cuts. One of few demands outside of that was to reduce corporation tax to 12.5pc. An unusual objective for an alleged left party.
When some queried this, the magic word “equality” was invoked. Apparently, lowering the tax rate would create “equality” with the South.
It would also assist in creating jobs. Which is a worthy objective, especially given that two of the most staunchly republican constituencies in the north (West Belfast and Foyle, Derry city), have featured in the bottom five of 650 Westminster constituencies deemed most deprived. That, despite the fact that billions have been made available in those areas since the IRA ceasefires. Whatever else it was used for, improving the lot of most of the people who live there it was not.
Sinn Fein initially agreed to the Stormont House Agreement in December 2014 that included the provision for the devolution of power over the corporation tax rate to Stormont. It also included cuts to welfare, the laying off of 20,000 public sector workers, and the sale of public assets. All things which would have the Leinster House shinners throwing conniptions.
The agreement was approved by the party — as everything is and shall be, no matter how incongruous — and was welcomed by then Deputy First Minister Martin McGuinness who described it as essential to maintain the Stormont Executive, and more importantly Sinn Fein’s position within it.
What Sinn Fein underestimated was the willingness of others to accept almost any compromise in order to keep the lucrative aspidistra flying.
Within weeks the northern trade unions were balloting for strikes. When Sinn Fein Education Minister John O’Dowd pleaded at the INTO conference for support for the cuts, it fell on deaf ears.
The response of the northern INTO secretary Gerry Murphy was blunt: “The Education Minister initially proposed cuts of £162.5m to the education budget. That would manifest in the loss of approximately 2,500 to 3,000 jobs at the very least — 3,000 jobs that would not be replaced.”
Despite internal whispers that this was all part of an “ultra-left pro-unionist” plot to destroy the peace process, the opposition from the ICTU to the cuts, plus growing discomfort among the republican base, forced the shinners most reluctantly to change tack.
By late 2016 that had grown to the stage, especially after one of said “ultra-left pro-unionists” topped the poll in West Belfast in the 2016 Assembly elections, where it could not be ignored. While the RHI scheme — one which Sinn Fein MLAs had initially promoted — provided the pretext, in reality the Sinn Fein leadership was forced by its own supporters reluctantly to pull the plug.
A key event was a meeting held at the Felons Club in Belfast last January 7. As described in my book, it witnessed a demand from the activist base to force a recalcitrant leadership, which had hoped the whole thing would have dissipated over Christmas, to collapse the Executive.
Since then, and despite the faux triumphalism over the Assembly and Westminster elections, Sinn Fein are now in a relatively weak position.
The DUP pulled a master stroke when using their holding the balance of power to reinstall the Tories. Their hand in any future negotiations with Sinn Fein has been considerably strengthened.
Sinn Fein wants to re-enter the Executive, but knows that it will not be on their terms. We will discover soon enough whether it shall be revived.
While the DUP can enjoy the luxury of their relationship with London sans Stormont, the imperative of maintaining party structures through salaries and expenses will probably ensure that both parties come to some deal if that money is under threat.
The other option under consideration is that Sinn Fein continues to take a hard line with the DUP and does not re-enter the Executive.
The premise on which that lies is the possibility that there will be a general election in the South within the next year, and that polls indicate there is a good chance that Sinn Fein might replicate the DUP in holding the balance of power.
It is noticeable of late that Sinn Fein, via Mary Lou and others, has softened its cough on only entering a “left government,” or only engaging with non-left parties if it were to be the largest party. Its potential suitors have also changed tack. Some are now talking up the possibility of an arrangement with Sinn Fein.
One suspects long spoons shall be the order of the day once the votes are counted. Matt Treacy is a former member of the republican movement, and author of ‘A Tunnel to the Moon’