His own dislike of furry obfuscation was, of course, one of the reasons why his own political career cast him as a Cassandra-figure prophesying doom from the wings. I think it accounted for his immoderate reaction against Peace Process talk from 1998, and his excoriation of the kind of rhetoric that came out of the talks between John Hume and Gerry Adams; weasel words seemed to him too high a price to pay for domesticating Sinn Féin. By the same token, his brief fling in the mid-1990s with Robert McCartney's independent and minuscule United Kingdom Unionist Party (essentially an integrationist feint) seemed, to Conor, simply pursuing the logic of his position. But those of us who believed his influence in the Republic's political debate was essential could only regret the effect of this démarche. His Dublin enemies could now write him off as "only a Unionist all along". In fact, notwithstanding an odd diversion into the idea of repartition, and a short-lived attempt to persuade Unionists that they would do better to make their own terms with Dublin than trust London to do it for them, Conor remained a 26-county patriot. "I was born a cat, after all."
His belief that the outcome of the Good Friday Agreement was a kind of victory of Sinn Féin chimed oddly with the Republicans' own defensive presentation, but was out of line with the realities. In fact, the reversal of the Republicans' position proved him right: they were implicitly giving up the bedrock of the irredentist 32-county case. The only hope for peace lay in a recognition by nationalists that the obstacle to the reunification shibboleth was not British policy, but a million Ulster Unionists, with whom they had to share their territory under conditions that denigrated neither community. If a few more Republicans had reflected carefully on States of Ireland in 1972, many lives might have been spared. But the time was not ripe.
There were larger lessons here. One of his favourite passages from Burke's Reflections deals with what Conor defined as "the versatility of evil". Burke begins by pointing out that history, which "unrols a great volume for our instruction", can be perverted into an arsenal "furnishing offensive and defensive weapons for parties in church and state...reviving dissensions and animosities and adding fuel to civil fury". Beneath the forms and instruments of church and state, Burke continued, lie permanent causes of evil, adopting different pretexts in different ages. Attacking the formal pretexts will not eradicate the permanent evil. "It is thus with all those, who attending only to the shell and husk of history, think they are waging war with intolerance, pride and cruelty, whilst, under colour of abhorring the ill principles of antiquated parties, they are authorising and feeding the same odious vices in different factions, and perhaps in worse." This could be applied to the post-communist world order, the upheavals in the Middle East and inevitably back to Ireland. If we have to some extent diluted rather than revived ancient factions in north and south, the process owes much to O'Brien. The fact that it has eventually happened through stratagems and mechanisms of which he disapproved and even denounced is the sort of historical irony which both he and Burke understood.
- Teeth
- La Buena Muerte
- Judaeophobia
- Cool It
- Rachmones
- From 'Russia'
- 'Going Out' and Five Other Poems
- The Final Edition
- 'The Ship of Endurance' And Three More New Poems
- The Letters Of Hugh Trevor-Roper
- Lighten Our Darkness
- Poetry
- Folie à Dieu
- New Poetry
- Adultery?
- Reece Mews
- Robin
- Two New Poems
- Three New Poems
- Freedoms We Risk Losing


















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