Splintered Sunrise

Having just written about Grizzly’s Amazing Disappearing Assembly Party, the obvious corollary is to take a brief look at the dissident slate, under the rubric of “Concerned Republicans”, unveiled in Toome last weekend. This is an offshoot of the dissident roadshow on policing, which has been getting sizeable audiences in a number of areas despite its progenitors – the Irps and the Real Republicans – being political tendencies that aren’t terribly popular or, it has to be said, coherent. But, given the substantial audience for dissidence implied by turnout at the roadshow and by the recent BBC Hearts And Minds poll, the proposal to run candidates against the Provos in thirteen of the eighteen constituencies gives us the best chance yet to look at both the potential and the weaknesses of the republican opposition.

There are serious practical difficulties in the face of any dissident slate – even leaving aside the likelihood of Provo dirty tricks and intimidation, many dissident supporters aren’t even on the electoral register, having taken their names off so as to avoid being impersonated. Furthermore, Republican Sinn Féin – the most substantial dissident tendency by some distance – has not only taken a stance of boycott for itself, but would not endorse any candidates who aren’t abstentionist. I think, though I’m not sure, that the Real Republicans are abstentionist towards Stormont, although the Irps and the recent ex-Provos aren’t. Given the improbability of any dissidents actually being elected, that argument may seem a little theological, but hey, that’s RSF for you.

I am also slightly disquieted by one or two of the candidates who are emerging. In particular I would mention Gerry McGeough, the voice of Catholic reaction, in Fermanagh/South Tyrone. McGeough may have a sterling record as a republican, but his rancid ultra-right Ailtirí na hAséirghe politics do constitute something of a liability for any progressive political project. I am even less impressed by the suggestion being mooted that the dissidents might endorse Eamonn McCann in Foyle. I would urge them to take a hard look at Eamonn’s programme before making a decision, and consider whether there would be the faintest possibility of them endorsing an SWP/SEA candidate other than Eamonn.

I don’t expect the dissident slate to do much business at the polls, although a reasonably substantial vote would at least lay down a marker as to the size of the audience for an alternative to the GFA/St Andrew’s process. The question is, what to do next? I think the obvious step would be to start on a process of political clarification. It would mean a serious and ongoing discussion of political alternatives to the peace process, without preconditions and without firm stances on issues like abstentionism and armed struggle being laid down in advance. Practically then, a series of open meetings in various parts of the country, along the lines of the policing roadshow perhaps, plus a forum where ideas could be thrashed out – maybe Fourthwrite would be suitable, or maybe a dedicated print or online forum – and extensive informal discussions to supplement the public side. The aim should be to develop some kind of political programme and practical plan of action that could make national liberation and socialism relevant in the current context.

I’m not putting forward any detailed ideas for what that programme or action plan might look like. But I am absolutely certain that a negative opposition to Gerry’s multiple capitulations, while it will get a hearing, is not sufficient to build on. Opponents of the GFA process are going to have to decide at some point what they stand for, put forward an attractive alternative, and try to win support for it.

Since the headlines have been dominated by the sudden death of PUP leader David Ervine from a massive heart attack, I may as well add my two cents. Without wanting to be unkind, I feel the posthumous hagiographies have left something out.

When the PUP emerged blinking into the light after the 1994 loyalist ceasefire, pundits were quick to hail them as a breath of fresh air, a contrast to the stale and calcified old unionism of Big Ian and Old Lemonsucker Molyneaux. Here you had a bunch of working-class codgers who talked about the working class and about bread-and-butter issues. (Actually they talked about the Protestant working class, but that was glossed over.) Members of the UVF were invited onto the evening news to solemnly pontificate about the peace process, while Provo councillors couldn’t talk about refuse collection without being hectored about decommissioning. Some people on the gormless left even took seriously the PUP’s claim to be socialist – I’m thinking in particular about Militant, who assisted in the writing of the PUP programme.

At this point it is usual to wring one’s hands about the wasted potential of the fringe loyalist parties. But their failure was written into their DNA. The PUP has policies on lots of issues, often good progressive policies, but, after all, it exists primarily to represent the interests of the UVF death squads. And the UVF is an armed organisation which exists for the sole purpose of defending sectarian privilege. So it was predictable that the PUP/UVF didn’t bring a radical new voice to the peace process, its main function was to provide muscle for Trimble and insulate him against DUP attacks. Ervine’s decision last year to join the Official Unionist assembly party was the logical outcome of this process. In the meantime, the PUP’s “socialism” was reduced to claiming that Catholics were getting too many goodies and the Prods should be cut in for a bigger share. Nor were things helped by the British administration’s policy of throwing money at armed loyalism in the hope of keeping the death squads quiet.

The irony is that David Ervine was probably the best chance loyalism had to develop any meaningful politics. The tributes to Ervine the man are not misplaced – here was someone who was intelligent, articulate and had indeed made a remarkable personal journey. The question is, if someone with the qualities of David Ervine couldn’t break from the shackles of reactionary loyalism, doesn’t that prove something about the irreformable nature of loyalism? If even Ervine couldn’t do it, it is highly doubtful anyone can.

Last week when writing about the Provos’ new stance on policing, I mentioned the trouble Grizzly was having holding on to his assembly party. Things have progressed in the interim, and at least a quarter of Sinn Féin Nua’s Stormont team will not be running again, at least not under the party banner.

Now, it’s true that Gerry can’t be blamed for the loss of the hugely popular Michael Ferguson of Twinbrook, who inconsiderately went and died of cancer a while back. And three others have surfaced, issued proclamations of loyalty and then gone to ground. Tommy O’Reilly says he wants to pursue his political ambitions on the big stage of, er, Fermanagh council, while North Belfast’s Kathy Stanton, a rising star in the recent past, wants to spend more time with her young family. Another rising star, Philip McGuigan of North Antrim, has just announced that he will be standing down from Stormont, though he will remain on Ballymoney council, and given the obligatory vote of confidence to Gerry.

If this doesn’t look unfortunate, deselecting two out of three MLAs in Newry/Armagh begins to look careless. Pat O’Rawe has been quiet, but her colleague Davy Hyland – who was deselected in his absence and informed by text message – is hopping mad, and has said so vocally over the last lot of days. Davy has resigned his party membership and stuck the boot into Gerry over policing. Some Gerryite apparatchiks are claiming he didn’t raise any disagreements before, but the Provo politburo’s habit of lying to its own supporters surely invalidates that complaint even if it’s true. Now Mid-Ulster MLA Geraldine Dougan has entered the fray, threatening to resign her party membership if the upcoming Ard Fheis endorses the Continuity RUC. Both Dougan and Hyland are openly canvassing solo runs at the election.

It is significant, I think, that none of these people have shown hints of dissidence in the past – rather, they are middle-of-the-road Northern republicans. Gerry should know by now that you can’t fool all the people all the time, and policing is a lightning-rod issue that it’s almost impossible to dissemble on. It also strikes at the Defenderist roots of the Northern Provos and raises hackles among people who couldn’t care less about abstentionism or the Second Dáil.

Gerry’s trouble probably won’t end here. There have been consistent reports recently of discontent among the Provo rank and file, both in the party and what remains of the army, although Belfast and Derry City are almost ostentatiously loyal. Most of the rumbling is coming from areas like East Tyrone and South Derry, places with a history of independence and long – and bruising – experience of the Lower Falls Mafia’s organisational practices. Republicans will be aware of the fate of the Antrim cumann, where a whole layer of activists were got rid of and a bunch of heavies from Belfast sent up there to take over. South Antrim’s inability to turn up a local candidate – with first North Belfast’s Martin Meehan and now Derry’s Mitchel McLaughlin being parachuted in – is directly related to this MO. Rural resentment at the Belfast politburo could easily find an expression over policing.

Hopefully it will. The Provo leadership has benefited a great deal from appeals to unity, invocation of military discipline and just outright fear. If people like Geraldine Dougan and Davy Hyland make good on their threats to stand as independents – no matter what the limitations of their programmes may be – it would at least represent some crumbling of the monolith, and that would be all to the good. It would of course leave a lot of questions unanswered about alternatives, and I’ll return to that presently.

Sectarian polarisation in the Six Counties may be as bad as ever, but we can at least offer would-be optimists a small example of détente among the North’s tiny far left.

The upcoming Stormont election has galvanised Eamonn McCann, the Irish SWP’s best-known public figure. Over the past few years Eamonn, via his vehicle the Socialist Environmental Alliance, has stood in several elections and pulled in a respectable if hardly earth-shattering personal vote in his home city of Derry. But Eamonn is not content with Derry, he has been mooting a left slate across all 18 constituencies. The limited resources of the SWP – a mini-branch in Belfast and frig all anywhere else – will clearly not do, and allies are needed. Therefore Eamonn has issued an appeal to the SWP’s deadliest enemies, the Socialist Party of Northern Ireland (P. Hadden prop.).

Up until now, the SPNI has reacted to such calls with lofty disdain. Partly this is due to historically different stances on the North – although both groups support the peace process, the SWP has a history of sucking up to the Provos, while the Millies have established themselves as the Marxist wing of Ulster unionism. So the last time Eamonn made a pitch for an alliance, SPNI spokesman Ciarán Mulholland responded with a long-winded article denouncing the SWP/SEA’s “left republican” programme. This immediately called to mind Jack Dee’s Happy Hour (“it isn’t happy and it doesn’t last an hour”). Likewise, Eamonn’s programme was neither left nor republican. The SPNI then added insult to injury by publishing election “analyses” that boosted their own tiny vote, pretended the apolitical Dr Kieran Deeney of Omagh was some kind of radical, and ignored Eamonn.

The excuse for a new lash-up is the imminent introduction of water charges in the North. The SWP and the SPNI have both been banging the drum for non-payment, although, despite total agreement, they still can’t bear to be part of the same campaign. But, in the light of the water charge issue, and bearing in mind the precedents of Tommy Sheridan and Joe Higgins, the SPNI have hatched a Cunning Plan. It goes something like this:

1. Peter Hadden won’t pay his water bill.
2. Peter will be sent to jail.
3. The broad masses will rally around Peter and elect him to Stormont.

The SWP also have a Cunning Plan. Can you tell what it is yet?

Like one of Baldrick’s Cunning Plans, the far left perspective is so shot through with holes it’s hard to know where to start. In the first place, if the election takes place on schedule, it will happen before the water bills start arriving. Secondly, a government resort to the Small Claims Court or the Enforcement of Judgements Office makes it unlikely anybody will be going to jail. Thirdly, proconsul Hain has been cute enough to introduce the charge in stages. In the first year, only a third will be payable, making £30 for the poorest households. Who, except for an ideologically motivated far-left activist, would risk jail for the sake of £30?

Most importantly, this election, like all elections in the Six, will be a referendum on the peace process. Both left groups, who are planning a single-issue campaign, reckon they can ignore this and turn it into a referendum on water charges simply by declaring it to be so. As if!

And will the unity call succeed? The most likely scenario is that the SPNI(PHP) will tell the SWP to feck off, as they usually do. There is however a faint possibility that they might agree to a paper alliance, as long as the SWP stay 70 miles away in Derry and the Haddenites don’t actually have to talk to them or work with them.

And where do I stand on this? Idly by is where I stand. I don’t take either of these sects remotely seriously, nor do virtually the entire population. I’m much more interested in the possibility of a dissident republican slate than a far left slate. In fact, I would go so far as to say that 500 votes in Derry for Gary Donnelly is worth 2000 for Eamonn McCann. I say that not to boost Gary or do down Eamonn – in terms of formal politics, I’m much closer to Eamonn – but simply to state that a dissident run would challenge the Provos. A single-issue run by the far left, either united or separately, won’t represent a challenge to anyone.

ITV drama doesn’t usually grab my attention, but previews of Dead Clever promised something too bad to miss. Actually, I was pleasantly surprised. Remember War Of The Roses? The Michael Douglas film loved by people who love to hate Michael Douglas? Well, this three-cornered drama, centred around Julie (Corrie’s Suranne Jones) with her gormless husband Ian (Dean Lennox Kelly) and best friend Sarah (Cold Feet’s Helen Baxendale – playing the Danny DeVito narrator role), could best be described as War Of The Roses scripted by the creators of TV’s Bad Girls and performed in thick Yorkshire accents. It’s one of the most deliciously bonkers TV shows I’ve seen in ages.

The drama begins – chronologically, there are flashbacks and flashbacks within flashbacks in the early parts – with Ian, an obvious no-goodnik, getting himself a job at Julie’s mum’s pub. We are also introduced to Julie and Sarah as 16-year-old schoolgirls – but still played by the same actresses! Now, Jones and Baxendale are both talented actresses, but Jones is pushing thirty and Baxendale, if memory serves, is a year or two older. Putting them in gymslips and getting them to try to pass for jailbait is presumably a deliberate absurdity, tying in with the show’s exaggerated style – an alternative motivation hardly bears thinking about. Julie pairs off with Ian, fall pregnant, and has a shotgun wedding followed by a miscarriage. Fast forward ten years…

Julie seems to be doing well – she owns a car dealership and has bought Ian a pub – in contrast to her slatternly sister, an unmarried mother with a strong streak of Vicky Pollard. But this is all show, and her business is failing. On top of this, Julie discovers that Ian has been shagging her sister, and for quite some time too, as her primary-school-age nephew turns out to be Ian’s son. (We later discover Ian has also shagged Julie’s mum, just for added Bad Girls effect.) There is a three-cornered catfight, then Julie returns home, where she mopes until Ian enters in a drunken stupor. When Ian awakes in the morning, there is no sign of Julie – but there are bloodstains and a bloody knife. Ian, who can’t remember anything that happened, is arrested and sent down for murdering Julie and disposing of her body. Sarah is living in London, where she works as a book editor, but has read about the case and is in court for the verdict of 15 years.

We then jump to ten years later. Sarah, now married with kids, walks into a pub in Devon. Guess who’s behind the bar? Sarah and Julie are reunited, and looking exactly the same. (One suspects a sliding scale of time here in the “ten years earlier” and “ten years later” captions, the same way that in Marvel comics the Fantastic Four, who date from 1961, were always formed a generic “ten years ago”.) Julie explains that she had contemplated suicide that night, beginning to slash her wrists – hence the blood – then thought of killing Ian as he slept, but ended up just running away to start a new life. She hadn’t meant for Ian to get a stiff jail sentence, but reckons he had it coming.

It gets even better. Julie is writing to Ian under an assumed name, and can tell Sarah that he’s convinced himself he did it. Not only that, but she happens to have written her story down in a novel style. Sarah reads it, loves it, and takes it to her publishers. The publishers love the book, but, Sarah informs Julie, they feel the ending could be stronger, providing the protagonists with some closure. Making an entirely reasonable leap of logic, Julie then fucks with Ian’s head some more by going to visit him wearing a ludicrously transparent disguise. With the ending beefed up, the book is published, Julie becomes a bestselling author, while Ian plots revenge.

That, somewhat simplified, is the first half of Dead Clever. Later it gets even more convoluted and far-fetched. But that’s fine – black comedy is very difficult to pull off, and the main requirement is an absolute commitment to the outcome. A very promising story can be spoiled if the producers chicken out in the last five minutes (just watch Heathers again if you’re not convinced). Dead Clever doesn’t do that, it has the courage to follow its premise through to its logical conclusion. Added bonuses are some very funny writing and performances that, if not uniformly good, at least hit the larger-than-life target. In particular I would single out Suranne Jones, who takes her established femme fatale act into the realms of the sociopath with great aplomb.

If I would make any criticism of Dead Clever, it is perhaps that it could have been a little more extreme. Apart from the Grosse Pointe Blank finale, the amount of death and destruction was relatively modest. The T&A quotient was also low for a post-watershed drama. There was a brief flash of A from Lennox Kelly, for the delectation of the female audience; the T department was covered by the well-endowed Jones – even though fully dressed throughout, her mountainous bosom still tends to dominate the screen. I’m not, I hasten to add, arguing that two hours of wholesale carnage punctuated by Jones taking her top off would have been good drama – just that a similar outrageous effect could have been achieved with a bit more outrageous content and a bit less stylistic wackiness.

All in all, an unexpected New Year treat. Much in the vein of films like The Long Kiss Goodnight or Swordfish, Dead Clever was utter cobblers. But it was hugely entertaining cobblers, and I’m thoroughly ashamed of myself for enjoying it.

If you’ve been following the news, you’ll have heard Grizzly’s remarks at the 50th anniversary Seán Sabhat commemoration down in Fermanagh, which have been hailed as the clearest signal so far that Sinn Féin Nua will be joining the Policing Board following the upcoming Extraordinary Ard Fheis. From the horse’s mouth, as it were. And while I am reluctant to take at face value any words coming out of Gerry’s mouth, the context of his speech indicates that this is in fact the case.

First you have to consider the setting. The Provos have been holding a huge number of these commemorations in the past few months, a good indication that they’re trying to reassure the punters that they are still republicans. Several members of the leadership have also been kite-flying, though Gerry has kept close-lipped. This won’t surprise anyone familiar with Gerry’s modus operandi, which is to stay silent until he’s clear which way the wind is blowing. He would certainly never have gone for an Ard Fheis unless he could be sure of the result in advance. Finally, backslapping of the crowd is always a sure sign that something is going on. When Gerry tells the broad masses they are the most politically astute people in Europe and can’t possibly be fooled, you know an enormous bamboozle is taking place. As Fionnuala O Connor has remarked, the Provo strategy has been to retreat with a swagger and proclaim victory; they have been helped enormously by unionist paranoia and supremacism.

The policing move is of course a requirement of the St Andrews “agreement”, which was arrived at like this: Big Ian told the two governments what he wanted, the governments said, All right Ian, and nobody agreed to anything. But basically, the whole procedure tallied with the Provos’ current politics, their major demand being for Big Ian to go into coalition with them and put their bums on ministerial seats at Stormont. The whole thing accounts for An Phoblacht these days having something of the aspect of the Weekly World News, minus the intentional humour. We read strident demands that that the British make the DUP live up to their obligations and prevent them running away from the peace process. Translated, this means the Brits should make Big Ian prime minister whether he likes it or not.

Will Gerry get away with it? He probably will, if only for lack of an alternative, but not without some difficulty. He has already lost several MLAs, who have either jumped or been pushed, while the dissident roadshow on policing, comprising the IRSP, the 32-County Sovereignty Movement and various independents, continues to draw audiences significant enough that the Provos have felt the need to turn up and argue their case. But the opposition is still desperately weak politically. The deselected MLAs are keeping very quiet, and the dissidents have mainly confined their political stance to lobbying the Provos, in the hope that Gerry will suddenly discover what principled politics are. Unless there is a walkout at the Ard Fheis, it is likely that Gerry will be able to go on bamboozling for the foreseeable future.

I know it’s an easy moan, but the festive TV was genuinely awful this year. Is it just old age? Are we becoming harder to please? Or are the networks just not trying? I don’t pretend to know, but here’s a quick skim through the highlights and lowlights anyway.

This year’s X-Factor was the worst yet, and, though the show’s only three years old, it already feels tired and stale. The compulsive bits were as always the early rounds with the horrible auditions; once we get into the studio, blanditude carries the day. This time round, four fucking months of X-Factor could only produce a yawnsome finale featuring a Mariah Carey soundalike beating out an Eddie Munster lookalike with a mad hard-on for swing. And then the judges – Simon Cowell only has so many putdowns, and after a while you get to the point where you can nearly play Cowell Bingo. Besides, what do these guys know anyway? I suppose the show at least fulfils its function of providing the Christmas Number 1, for those people who care about such things.

By contrast, Strictly Come Dancing – and I know it’s pro-celebrity rather than an amateur contest – gets better every year. The format actually does give you a journey, with the celebs having to learn new routines every week, stretch themselves and improve their skills. The judges are bona fide experts whose opinions are worth paying attention to – to be sure, there’s a theatricality with the panel dividing into soft cops (avuncular Len Goodman and ebullient Bruno Tonioli) and hard cops (deadpan Craig Revel Horwood and terrifying Arlene Phillips), but these guys know what they’re talking about. And every year you get somebody really good. This year’s highlights included Spice Girl Emma Bunton, proving she can do more than strike a pose and point; teenage EastEnders actress Louisa Lytton, bouncing across the stage like a sparky wee bundle of energy; and dour cricketer Mark Ramprakash, a swivel-hipped revelation who thoroughly deserved his win.

EastEnders is never a barrel of laughs, but the Christmas edition is invariably an orgy of misery, and this year didn’t disappoint, with Pauline Fowler’s big exit centre stage. The soap runs best on schadenfreude, as if to say to the audience: Your life may suck, but at least you’re happier than these fuckers.

And so on to Crimbo Doctor Who. This was a completely generic Who story: big monster attacks Earth, Doctor defeats big monster. Plus some Time Lord gobbledegook to underline that this was a very bad monster. Good fun though. I had been dubious about Catherine Tate’s guest starring turn, but, apart from looking quite fetching in that wedding dress, she put in the sort of performance that makes me want to see her do more dramatic roles. Her acting is broad, but next to David Tennant – who went relatively easy on the shouting and eye-rolling – you would hardly notice. Plus, we have proved there is life after Billie.

Finally, thank God for the Germans, who still know how to do festive. On German TV you could enjoy folksy variety shows, André Rieu concerts, and, best of all, settle down on New Year’s Eve to watch the immortal Freddie Frinton in Dinner For One. Same procedure as every year. Magic.