Here's a story from Thursday's Andersonstown News on a discussion at Féile on the role of journalism in the battle to uphold human rights. Pictured are BBC Ireland correspondent Denis Murray, Liam Clarke, Fionola Meredith and Anne Cadwallader (photo by Simon Graham/Harrison Photography).

Unlocking the secrets of war

By Fr Des


The Féile panel discussion about Amnesty underlined how difficult our problems are after a war.  So many people have been hurt in so many different ways – killed, bereaved, injured, insulted in their streets and homes, false imprisoned, falsely accused and in a multitude of other ways.
How can you relieve the hurt of so many people? To ask a government to do it is to ask one side in a conflict to do what it cannot do. On the other hand people must not be left to do it on their own. The people of Derry had to work for years to force governments to recognise what happened to them on and around one Sunday. The people of Ballymurphy are now on the same road. So unless the people themselves do it the work of healing our community will not be done, but without the  cooperation of those with power, it will be more  difficult. People have the right to know what happened to them and why. Governments and other bodies with power have the duty to help them.
Killing  civilians in Ireland was  done to a pattern, not the vicious action of a few mentally disordered state soldiers.  People had to be terrified and  the soldiers’ morale  to be kept up. That is largely what  the Ballymurphy and North Belfast and Springhill and other killings were about. Like the Washington government describing what it intended to do in Iraq – shock and awe, wasn’t that the term they used?
As one of the panelists pointed out we have to create a future in which the dignity of all our people is recognised. Then the wisdom of the people comes into play, a wisdom which would have prevented war if it had been allowed to. In time people will do what they have always done –  they integrated, lived together, worked together, played together after the disasters of  government-sponsored riots, world wars, struggles for work, they did it successfully, and would have done it better had not agitators stirred up  false fears of each other.

Dignity
So, given the progressive creation of a decent society  in which everyone’s dignity and right are respected, given the wisdom of people who have suffered and forgiven so much, isn’t it we, the people, not governments and other powerful agencies who will heal the hurts and create peace? If so, how can governments be made to help the people, neighbours, fellow citizens do it?
As these conversations between people go on all possibilities will  be discussed. Governments can decide that no cases will be pursued about events before a given date. Amnesty like this goes back thousands of years in human history, removal of penalties, remission of debts. It is a sign that a community is strong enough and confident enough of its own maturity to treat their people that way.
That does not satisfy the need and the right of people to know what happened to them, their families and neighbours. Information about any incident should not remain locked away in some filing cabinet in police or other government offices. People have a right to know and there are strong reasons for demanding that all official files must be open to all people who are mentioned in them. The myth of state security or operational sensitivity should not be allowed to prevent it. Why should what police or government say about you be their secret when it is our right to know?
Perhaps the greatest progress will be made in all this when we are convinced that what we get from government and other powerful groups is not their favour, it is our right.

Old photos give a glimpse of the Falls

By Squinter

Squinter had a long and very enjoyable chat with Eamon McGonigle from La Salle Gardens, who knew Squinter’s da, and we shared some lovely stories about the old days of haulage and lorries. Eamon’s from a much younger generation than Squinter’s da (although he’s too modest to say it) but he still knew a lot about the old AECs and Fodens that were perennially parked on the road outside the boy Squinter’s home, because Eamon was in the haulage business too.
Eamon was nice enough to say he enjoyed a recent piece that Squinter wrote about how he used to get the boat from Larne to Stranraer, and he had a lot of complimentary things to say about Squinter’s late father, which Squinter was only too happy to hear.
In a later chat, Eamon told Squinter an interesting story of how he and his wife were dandering through Dublin recently when they were surprised and delighted in equal measure to come across two framed photographic prints (reproduced here) in a little antique shop. Eamon eagerly bought them and no doubt when Squinter hands them back they’ll take pride of place in the McGonigle home.
The one below on the left seems vaguely familiar to Squinter. It’s an idyllic view of Dunville Park with the fountain in full spout, the grass and shrubbery immaculately maintained by the gardener to the left, and people walking or resting on the many benches. Squinter’s not sure about the decade, never mind the year. 1920 is his best guess.

Trolleybus

The second print is nowhere near as old, but infinitely more interesting. It’s probably the 1940s and the photographer was standing at the gates of the old St Finian’s Primary School when he took it. It’s clearly an overcast day, but the sun has peeked through the clouds to light the road up. There’s a big peeler to the left, being approached by a young man in a very stylish cream suit. The trolleybus lines are visible in the road, and you can see the metal arms reaching above the bus in the distance to touch the overhead lines. Squinter is particularly struck by the two men in white overalls on the roof of the Clonard Cinema to the right; clearly, health and safety issues were not the first thing on the agenda when people arrived for work back then.
The road looks great, doesn’t it? But here’s a thing. Squinter dropped the wife and children off in town last Friday, and in bright sunshine drove back up the Falls Road and… the place looked great. The new signs that council has put over the shops have helped enormously, but it wasn’t just that – people were smiling and happy, flowers were blooming, trees were fat and green.
Yes, okay, it was 9.10am. But as somebody famous once said… wouldn’t it be great if it was like this all the time?

Sinking feeling

I was down in the Titanic Quarter yesterday where you can see things taking shape: a new hotel, these swish apartments, the visitor centre, geared up for 400,000 visits per annum, the new Public Records offices.

Everything you would want, even a marina beside these apartments.

Everything that is except people to actually live in the apartments which were overpriced  back then in Ireland's golden age and now lie empty.

Redemption song for Belfast's magic wonderboy

Tim Rice (The Lion King, Evita) says he’s never attempted a sports musical because you can’t hope to recreate the magic of the sporting arena in a theatre. So be in no doubt that the talent behind the heartrending story of Belfast’s wonderboy George Best, have notched up a real triumph with Dancing Shoes.

For Marie Jones and Martin Lynch — not a bad strike force on any team-sheet —  take us on an emotion-filled journey with Best, beginning with his innocent, short-trousered exploits kicking ball in Belfast’s back streets to the heights of European footballing fame. All told with side-spliting humour and rousing songs, before the torturous and inglorious descent into drunken misery.

Perhaps because we know of the tragedy that lies ahead, the opening scenes, painting an idyllic picture of Belfast as the boy Best prepares to leave his parents for a trial with Manchester United, are the most likely to bring tears to the eyes. 

As Best, Aidan O’Neill is spellingbinding, as assured, confident and cocky on stage as George himself was on the pitch. And he can sing to boot. Mind you he’s surrounded by a first eleven who have cut their teeth and honed their talent on Belfast stages, emerging now with their finest work to date.

Conor Grimes has more parts than a jetfighter — playing the theatrical version of goals, defence and attack as a string of major characters moving through Best’s life, including, most memorably Northern Ireland and Man U legendary goalkeeper Harry Gregg. Paddy Jenkins rises to the ball as well, sympathetically playing the part of George’s decent but oft-distresssed father Dickey before turning in a  sensational scene as Alex Higgins — visiting George in hospital to compare war stories and war wounds — which will be talked about as long as there are people with the power of speech in Belfast.

Also deserving an encore are Kerri Quinn as Angie Best (who gets the best line, “George, I can’t compete with a bottle of vodka.”) and Marty Maguire who sweeps all before him. 

But how to present the breathtaking artistry on a football field of Best? Director Peter Sheridan (one of Ireland’s greatest talents) is unsure, making a bold decision not to use old TV footage but also leaving younger members of the audience unsure as to what the fuss is all about. The swerve round the goalkeeper in the European Cup Final  — the iconic black and white image which sums up Best’s stylish combination of mischief and magic — goes unseen, the event itself being referenced solely by the sight of the cup. (In her bravura one-woman show, Belfast Blues, at the Opera House, Geraldine Hughes combined grainy images of war-torn Belfast with her stage performance. Perhaps she and Peter should talk.)

But when the fall from grace comes for Best, the play slips back into gear to portray, with piercing humour and memorable songs, the flawed genius whose face was to be seen in every section of the newspapers except the sports pages. The trawl through lesser leagues, the desertion of his family, the cheating and lying are all here. Though, thankfully, there’s no space in the script for the rancid, talk-radio histrionics about his ‘right’ to a liver transplant, an issue which obsessed the tabloids who once hailed him hero. 

But if Lynch and Jones pull their punches a little, that’s as it should be. And, as one of those who lined the Knock dual carriageway to clap Best home, I’m indebted to Dancing Shoes for redeeming George Best with music. A redemption song for Belfast’s magic wonderboy. I’ll sing to that.

Dancing Shoes runs at the Grand Opera House, Belfast, until Saturday 14 August.

The People's Festival

Here's the editorial from Thursday's Andersonstown News about Féile an Phobail.

Leadership from the banks

Here's the Andersonstown News fun day before the heavens opened.

The majority of the local traders had backed the fun day with special offers which shows great community spirit.

I was particularly taken by the leadership role of the Ulster Bank which opened its doors for the event (it is based in offices adjacent to the Andersonstown Leisure Centre) to allow parents at the event to grab coffee and biscuits. Staff of the bank also turned out to co-ordinate a colouring-in competition for kids.

All in all, reminiscent of the days when the banks were at the heart of business activity. In the US, burgeoning towns all boast mini-chambers of commerce in which the bank manager is to the fore. Not so anymore in Belfast. The Northern Bank alone took an active part in the deliberations of the West Belfast and Greater Shankill Enterprise Council (though other banks contributed to the costs of the group's work).

Perhaps the Ulster Bank participation in the fun day will presage a return to more active leadership from the banks in the expected regeneration of Casement Park and surrounding area. After all, all four big banks are within easy walking distance of the park. Some might even call it contrition.

Transcendence

If you're going to have Van Morrison-style moments of transcendence, I suppose a church is the right place for them.

So, chalk one up for me when I finally clapped eyes on the momentous Harry Clarke stained glass rose window in the chapel of St Dominic's convent on the Falls. It's survived two wars, one global, one local, and retains all of the restrained power and awesome beauty it boasted when first installed by Harry Clarke himself in 1929 (he would die within three years). I had seen photographs of the window but the real thing exceeds all expectations; think a thirsty traveller reading about gulping down a glass of iced water and one who actually gets to slake his thirst with the real thing.

Our bilingual guide, Sr Maelíosa, is a great custodian of what is probably Belfast's greatest work of art outside of a museum. She arrived in the city when all the traffic was heading in the other direction, 1970, to teach at St Francis de Sales school for children with hearing difficulties. A small community of Dominicans still live in the convent but will move shortly to a purpose-built smaller convent next door later this year — wisely the architect of the new convent designed it so as not to block light reaching the rose window. You'll also be blown away by the abstract stained glass windows in the church by French artist Gabriel Loire.

After eight decades, the rose window would probably benefit from a careful cleaning by experts all of which may create the situation where the tourists walking the Falls Road daily could take a little detour to view a true masterpiece.

Pictured in front of the rose window are the feisty Sr Maelíosa (whose own interesting back story goes all the way back to 1916 when her father got news of the Rising through to the US from the telegraph station on Valentia Island) and Gráinne McVeigh of Invest NI (a St Dominic's alumnus) who had joined me for a jaunt around the Gaeltacht Quarter when we bumped into Sr Maelíosa who very kindly invited us in to view the jewel in the Gaeltacht Quarter's crown!

Comghairdeas le Mal agus Connla

Go maire siad a saol úr. Mal McCann and Connla Lawlor tied the knot yesterday in South Down, they had the drumlins to themselves as everyone else was at the big match in Croke Park, and joined family and friends at the Europa Hotel for their reception — where I caught them cutting the cake.

Regular visitors to the Balcony will know Mal as one of our greatest current affairs photographers and Connla as the powerhouse behind the many successful events and conferences organised by our newspapers.

In a nice touch, the tables were named after the Mournes. I sat at Slievenaglough.