After O'Brien's death, several obituary writers said or implied that he had become regrettably possessed by idées fixes, and that one of them was Haughey. Certainly, through the years of Haughey's ascendancy, he was mercilessly attacked by Conor in the Dail and the Senate - culminating in his brilliant seizure of Haughey's description of a particularly shaky episode as "Grotesque, Unbelievable, Bizarre and Unprecedented". O'Brien's 1982 coinage of "GUBU" became attached indelibly to those Fianna Fail years.
I often wondered if, given Haughey's dictatorial pretensions and his tormentor's love of French culture, he was thinking of Alfred Jarry's Ubu Roi. In any case, he lived long enough to see the vindication of all his denunciations. This was not a recipe for popularity, and he was not particularly interested in saying "I told you so."
What he wanted to do was to project an argument forward to its logical conclusion, and if it annoyed people, so much the better. He also wanted to say things as clearly as he could. Unlike the post-war German philosopher and social critic Theodor Adorno and his disciples, he believed that any profound and important concept should be capable of direct statement. This belief can be traced in his early writings about French intellectuals, and throughout his commentary on Irish and UN politics. He wrote in his Memoir of Hammarskjöld: "The successful wielder of ambiguity has a certain high imperiousness in his attitude to facts and inclines to a magician-like confidence in the overmastering power of language; this confidence is unfortunately contagious." O'Brien possessed an iron immunity to such contagion. His intellectual speciality was cutting through flannel, and it equipped him for the role he took on about the North. "Sometimes travelling from Northern Ireland back to the South," he wrote in his Memoir,
"I have the impression of leaving a turbulent republic of barking, snarling, yelping dogs and entering a kingdom of cats, moving on padded feet, about occasions for which undue publicity is not required. Personally I like the atmosphere of ‘the South' rather better - I was born a cat after all - but I can understand that a born dog might have nightmares about being silently asphyxiated under all that fur."
- 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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