Geldof and Sinn Féin make best of enemies
THE staff of the National Library certainly knew it was Christmas when Bob Geldof rocked up with his entourage, laden down with Band Aid memorabilia . The wondrous gift to the nation was, he said, in recognition of our incredible support for the venture. Live Aid raised millions for famine relief in Africa while elevating Bob from punk-rock obscurity to global philanthropy and sainthood.
But subsequent revelations about funds intended for starving children being diverted to fund weapons and for other corrupt practices in west Africa, all hotly disputed by Geldof, have tarnished its legacy.
However, it’s not only that that casts the Band Aid gift as slightly damaged goods.
It’s also the timing, occurring right after the fiasco surrounding the return of Geldof’s Freedom of the City, a humiliation that has wounded him immensely.
Far from an act of supreme generosity, the bequest looks suspiciously like another PR masterstroke from one of the most brilliant media manipulators of his generation.
To be fair to Geldof, development aid would not have been put on the political agenda without the force of his personality or the success of the Live Aid juggernaut.
BUT recalling his golden era in public is also a way of turning the page on the hostilities that have broken out between him and Sinn Féin. For all his repudiation of his homeland, our most famous prodigal son likes nothing more than to return to his native city and have us jump to his tune. Up until recently, we have generally been happy to oblige.
Last year, he noted approvingly that he would happily live here again, now that the Celtic Tiger was over and we had embraced pluralist values.
A large source of Geldof’s satisfaction is the death of the blood-soaked nationalism and Catholic piety that besmirched his childhood.
During the 1916 centenary, he condemned the Rising’s leaders for using tactics similar to jihadi suicide bombers.
His outspoken revulsion for Sinn Féin partly explains why Dublin City Council, headed by Sinn Féin Lord Mayor Micheál Mac Donncha, voted to withdraw his Freedom of the City and send him packing .
The Lord Mayor said it was the logical outcome to what Geldof himself had initiated when he pitched up at City Hall as part of a campaign to precipitate the council into removing the Freedom of the City from Aung San Suu Kyi over the treatment of Rohingya Muslims in Myanmar.
Fianna Fáil leader Micheál Martin indulged in a bout of handwringing, arguing that Saint Bob deserved his honorary position.
Over the course of his career, Bob Geldof has succeeded in shouting down figures as formidable as Margaret Thatcher and Nigel Farage.
But with Sinn Féin he faces a force as implacable and as combative as himself. By calling his bluff, the party has ensured that his stand against the City’s Fathers has backfired spectacularly.
It seems that Geldof is not to retain unopposed the role of conscience of his race.
Sinn Féin may have designs on that crown too.
When Geldof looks into the face of the party he loathes, one wonders if he sees his own characteristics of intransigence and arrogance staring back at him.