My uncle was a fighter. He has, in my time, always been a fighter. Even though he is older now, there is little doubt he still holds the fighter’s compulsion and fierceness, which has in his time encouraged many other men into a state of acceptance. As a boy I marveled at the tales conveyed by other men on work sites, and in hearth-warmed homes down country lanes about his strength and the ferocity of his passion to stand by his convictions and to force other men, in turn, who demanded he adapt, to leave him in peace. I derived great pride from those stories and they fed my young vision of masculinity as I became adamant to become just as determined, strong and, to my young mind, invulnerable, as he had physically made himself to be. He was a heroic figure to a boy and because he was of my own blood I therefore felt almost like his victories and temperament were mine also to be grasped.
“Bad tempered” some called him. “A raging mad man” others would scoff. Although these concepts also passed by my thought, it became apparent there was more to his case. For I have witnessed both bad temper and the raging mad man but my uncle possessed something each of those dispositions lacked, he had reason and direction. He had a cause, a philosophy, an ideology, which he held sacred and dear and for which he was prepared to fight, even to give his life. This may not have been apparent to other men. It may not even have been apparent to him. But my uncle was defending a most innate human hunger. He was claiming his right to be free.
On one occasion, in a local pub, he was sitting having a drink and talking with his brother (my other uncle) when some fella sitting on the other side of the bar challenged him. The fella was drunk and had some quarrel; he didn’t like the way my uncle had spoken earlier. The man was given several opportunities to air his opinions and his point was taken. On several occasions others spoke to him saying, “all right now you’ve said your pace” and “that’s enough now lave it”. Despite this, the sermon continued and became more abusive. After holding back for a good half hour, in two very quick movements my uncle expressed his opinion, once with his fist and second with his boot. The dialogue was concluded.
As the years rolled by, I came to realize that men in the community had adopted three methods of approach with my uncle. They chose to befriend him, to fight him, or alternately to outright avoid him. It was obvious nonetheless that whatever approach they adopted they came to develop a profound respect for his way. You see, although no man in that world was able to verbalize it, they knew in their own way that my uncle was fighting to maintain an age-old truth, that all men have an inherent right to their own personality and to have the freedom to operate within a culture unrestricted by the expectations of individuals. In other words, he fought for his right and the rights of others to just be themselves. There are always people, drunk or sober, who will claim right to stifle this freedom. They will make reference to social norm or their personal moral certitude. My uncle, like many men in the community, resisted this the only way he knew how, with his fists. This was his only recourse, for few might have understood or been willing to listen to a reasoned argument.
“Lave me in pace to be and I will lave you in pace. Obstruct my freedom to live in pace and I will resist you will all the strength I can amass.”
It was a simple way of settling a dispute and it was how men did their talking in those places, but it was also powerful and effective because not only did both men get their say, they knew exactly were each other stood. Those men surely fought out their disagreement but upon completion they both had expressed themselves fully and they both left with significant understanding and appreciation for the other.
In other circles life, is not so simple. Attempts to stifle freedom come packaged in a craftier and more obscured manner. It is a modus operandi of grander, loftier halls of universities and other intellectual institutions where the idea of settling a dispute with ones fists would be deemed archaic, savage or animalistic in nature. Indeed, those men who wear long flowing gowns to signify their dignified status or stand behind podiums preaching policy based on their “mandate,” would have you believe there is a much more elegant and civilized manner for settling a disagreement. Indeed they refer to this manner as “compromise” and the virtue they offer for achievement of this goal is known as “tolerance”.
Now these words “compromise” and “tolerance” appear, at first glance, exceptionally appealing to the untrained eye. Who in their right mind would not want compromise? Who in their right mind would reject “tolerance”? Well that is exactly how modern social information centers have been set up. Their message is designed to sway you to accept a particular way of thinking. And this, my friend, is they point at which we must fight back. Here is why:
If we accept compromise as the goal, it means we must in some way relinquish either some, or most of our convictions or beliefs in order for many incompatible ideas to be dispersed into some newly formed adulteration of a belief system. In those grand lofty intellectual halls they call this pluralism. We will be told that if we disagree with someone, we are intolerant and therefore we should hold our tongues. If we accept this argument, what happens eventually is that individuals begin to fear the true expression of themselves in case they invite ridicule from others. If it carries on long enough, we become a nation of many thoughts but no Truth. Truth becomes no longer visible but rather fades into a fog of polymorphic mess.
When two men argue a point to its end with no restrictions on their personal expression, it becomes one of the strongest foundations of a good friendship. If two men are afraid to express what they believe, neither of them will ever truly know each other. Instead, they develop prejudices or caricatures, not of who the other person is, but rather of what they think the person is. If you want to really know a person and develop a relationship founded on respect the answer is not compromise or tolerance, it is argument and honesty.
In Ireland if we seek to discover the ideal way to live as a person and in community, we must first begin by being open to a good old-fashioned, honest argument and debate. Now, there is a distinct possibility that we could be wrong in our convictions. No one can claim to know all Truth. But we must never cease searching for it, for that perfect way, the ultimate way of living most in tune with humanity. It is through the seeking that we will be satisfied, from being heard and from listening to the promptings of our hearts.
My friends, if we want true freedom in Ireland, we must never let go of that old Irish temperament to engage others and their ideas with honest appraisal. We must fight all forms of authority that require us to tolerate to the point that we give up our identity and our belief in Truth. Our convictions might need tweaked or changed, but compromising of identity should always be our own free choice. It should never be influenced, not by the media, not by a politician, not by a passing cultural fad. Truth is timeless and is the path to freedom. We can discover what it is. And it is something very definite.
How far are you willing to go?
I once asked my uncle “would you die for your family?” There was no hesitation when he emphatically replied, “I would”.
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