"Unless a grain falls to the ground"
There was a common saying in Ireland years ago, “McSwiney taught us how to die!”, referring to Terence McSwiney, the Mayor of Cork, who died in a British Gaol in 1920, at the height of the Irish war of Independence, after 74 days on hunger strike.
His Hunger strike made headlines all around the world. Terence McSwiney is also remembered for saying: “It is not those who can inflict the most, but those who can suffer the most who will prevail." This is certainly true of Martin Corey, a political prisoner of conscience, currently interned without trial in British Occupied Ireland.
Martin has spent more that 3 years now interned without trial, following a previous term of more than 19 years in Long Kesh Concentration Camp. Martin is absolutely innocent in this instance and simply a scapegoat for the British to make an example, against other Irish ex-political prisoners, who may contemplate joining an Irish Republican Party other than British Sinn Fein.
Martin as a member of Republican Sinn Fein, has not been engaged in any militant activity what so ever, after serving almost 20 years in Long Kesh and the H-Blocks. Martin Corey is a political prisoner of conscience, simply because of his beliefs in a united Island of Ireland, with economic justice and freedom for its people of no property. This is something the British and their agents must censor, bury in secret courts, intern without trial in British Occupied Ireland.
Details @ Link http://www.releasemartincorey.com
After McSwiney was elected to the mayoralty. He was arrested in Dublin on August 12th, 1920 and charged with making a ‘seditious’ speech; with possession of a police code and a Cork Corporation resolution recognising Dáil Éireann. McSwiney immediately commenced a hunger strike. He was tried by court-martial, found guilty and sentenced to two years imprisonment. In Brixton Prison, McSwiney continued his hunger strike for seventy-four days until his death on October 25th, 1920. This was the longest hunger strike in Irish political history.
The young Ho Chi Minh, then a dishwasher in London, said of McSwiney – ‘A Nation which has such citizens will never surrender’. McSwiney’s body lay in state in the Southwark Cathedral, London before removal by sea to Dublin and then by train to Cork. His funeral procession was one of the largest ever seen in Cork City. In 1921 McSwiney’s play The Revolutionist was produced at the Abbey Theatre, Dublin.
Terence McSwiney Memorial Card
(Go raibh maith agat J.L.)
This extract is from Terence McSwiney’s Principle of Freedom (1921). ©
Why should we fight for freedom? Is it not strange, that it has become necessary to ask and answer this question? We have fought our fight for centuries, and contending parties still continue the struggle, but the real significance of the struggle and its true motive force are hardly at all understood, and there is a curious but logical result. Men technically on the same side are separated by differences wide and deep, both of ideal and plan of action; while, conversely, men technically opposed have perhaps more in common than we realise in a sense deeper than we understand.
This is the question I would discuss. I find in practice everywhere in Ireland – it is worse out of Ireland – the doctrine ‘The end justifies the means’.
One party will denounce another for the use of discreditable tactics, but it will have no hesitation in using such itself if it can thereby snatch a discreditable victory. So, clear speaking is needed: a fight that is not clean-handed will make victory more disgraceful than any defeat. I make the point here because we stand for separation from the British Empire, and because I have heard it argued that we ought, if we could, make a foreign alliance to crush English power here, even if our foreign allies were engaged in crushing freedom elsewhere.
When such a question can be proposed it should be answered, though the time is not ripe to test it. If Ireland were to win freedom by helping directly or indirectly to crush another people she would earn the execration she has poured out on tyranny for ages. I have come to see it possible for Ireland to win her independence by base methods.
It is imperative, therefore, that we should declare ourselves and know where we stand. And I stand by this principle: no physical victory can compensate for spiritual surrender. Whatever side denies that is not my side…
A SPIRITUAL necessity makes the true significance of our claim to freedom: the material aspect is only a secondary consideration. A man facing life is gifted with certain powers of soul and body. It is of vital importance to himself and to the community that he be given a full opportunity to develop his powers, and to fill his place worthily. In a free state he is in the natural environment for full self-development. In an enslaved state it is the reverse. When one country holds another in subjection that other suffers materially and morally. It suffers materially, being a prey for plunder. It suffers morally because of the corrupt influences the bigger nation sets at work to maintain its ascendancy. Because of this moral corruption national subjection should be resisted, as a state fostering vice; and as in the case of vice, when we understand it we have no option but to fight. With it we can make no terms. It is the duty of the rightful power to develop the best in its subjects: it is the practise of the usurping power to develop the basest.
Our history affords many examples. When our rulers visit Ireland they bestow favours and titles on the supporters of their regime – but it is always seen that the greatest favours and the highest titles are not for the honest adherent of their power – but for him who has betrayed the national cause that he entered public life to support.
Observe the men who might be respected are passed over for him who ought to be despised. In the corrupt politician there was surely a better nature. A free state would have encouraged and developed it. The usurping state titled him for the use of his baser instincts. Such allurement must mean demoralisation. We are none of us angels, and under the best circumstances find it hard to do worthy things; when all the temptation is to do unworthy things we are demoralised. Most of us, happily, will not give ourselves over to the evil influence, but we lose faith in the ideal. We are apathetic. We have powers and let them lie fallow. Our minds should be restless for beautiful and noble things; they are hopeless in a land everywhere confined and wasted. In the destruction of spirit lies the deeper significance of our claim to freedom.
What, then, is the true basis to our claim to freedom? There are two points of view. The first we have when fresh from school, still in our teens, ready to tilt against everyone and everything, delighting in saying smart things--and able sometimes to say them--talking much and boldly of freedom, but satisfied if the thing sounds bravely.
There is the later point of view. We are no longer boys; we have come to review the situation, and take a definite stand in life. We have had years of experience, keen struggles, not a little bitterness, and we are steadied. We feel a heart-beat for deeper things. It is no longer sufficient that they sound bravely; they must ring true.
The schoolboy's dream is more of a Roman triumph--tramping armies, shouting multitudes, waving banners--all good enough in their way. But the dream of men is for something beyond all this show. If it were not, it could hardly claim a sacrifice.