Unnecessary Sacrifices

Throughout the texts we have read, there are a lot of sacrifices. Dr. King went to jail because of his peaceful protests and was ultimately assassinated. The Chicago Eight and their protestors suffered police brutality and were jailed. The Catonsville Nine also sacrificed their personal freedom in protest. Huey Newton was shot because of his leadership in the Black Panther Party. In Ireland, Bloody Sunday resulted as a retaliation to the protests. Bernadette Devlin was jailed because of participation in the Battle of the Bogside, which itself saw many civilians beaten and arrested. While some sacrifices were imposed on the activists by the government and law enforcement, many were voluntary and fueled by anger. Although the theatricality created by voluntary sacrifices undoubtedly radicalized more people to join the protestors’ movements, I question how much actual change the voluntary sacrifices brought about and whether it was worth the pain.

At the beginning of the semester, I wrote a blog about what the average civilian’s life looked like in 1968 in the US and Ireland. When reading Vinen, it seemed to me that only the most notable events were captured by history, but the people involved undeniably only made up a very small portion of the general population. The silent majority, then, remains largely unbeknownst to us. But we do get a glance at their stance on the protests: according to Vinen, the largest protests after 1968 were actually conservative and in opposition to the radical protests. Therefore, it seems like 68’ mostly failed regarding actual social and political change, a conclusion consistent with Eamonn MaCann and Geoff Brown. So, what are 68’s lasting effects?

I believe that the most important lasting effect of 68’ is the records from the period, including literature, news, videos, etc. I hardly knew anything about 68’, but by reading the texts this semester I felt the anger and frustration experienced by the activists. Although the events of 68’ have long passed, the records continue to impact the general population. We live in a society where the majority rules, so any real change must come from a change in opinion of the public, no matter how small: everybody’s slight lean towards change is much stronger than one group’s complete radicalism. Therefore, the lasting and small impact of these records is much stronger than the immediate actions during the protests themselves.

So, how much lasting impact on the public did the voluntary sacrifices add on top of the imposed sacrifices? As an uninformed outsider to 68’, when I read the texts this semester, I was most moved by the authentic stories and frustration expressed in the memoirs such as Hayden’s and Newton’s. Those are imposed sacrifices. But my suspicion quickly rose when I saw active provocation of police and violence. For example, in the movie “Trial of the Chicago Seven,” when the someone shouted and the crowd charged the police, I quickly distanced myself from sympathizing with their cause. Although the kind of behavior was totally reasonable given the frustration and anger, it gave the public the reason to offput the protestors as disturbing order. Even martyr-like behaviors, such as those performed by the Catonsville Nine, felt forced and gave me a sense of “I am not good enough to do that.” Therefore, voluntary sacrifices are much less likely to influence the public than imposed ones, which give the oppressors and the public no excuse.

As a result, I think protests are most effective when they are long-term, committed, and reasonable. Protestors need to put pressure on the public, making them pick a side, but not so much to distance the public. It would still be very difficult to bring about change, as evidenced in the nonaction of the white moderates in King’s speeches. However, King’s movement from start to end witnessed very little voluntary sacrifice, outside of that imposed on it by law enforcement. Therefore, it gave the public no excuse, which arguably allowed King to be entered into history textbooks as a “hero-like” figure. Although the depiction may not be accurate, it nonetheless influenced and continues to influence every person growing up in this country, which I think is arguably the best outcome of protests.

Ideology: Foundation or Justification?

When reading the American texts the past few weeks, one observation stood out to me: the authors had vastly different ideologies, yet their organization’s struggles played out with more or less the same actions and concrete goals. If ideology were the foundation of actions, should different ideologies not naturally call for different courses of action? On the other hand, since the actions were similar across the board, I wonder if the ideologies were just used to justify the actions that were already bound to happen.

Both MLK’s peaceful protests and Huey P. Newton’s Black Panther Party had similar goals and methods to achieve Civil Rights for underprivileged African Americans. For example, they both shared the common goals of black economic power, adequate living conditions, and an end to police brutality, which are found abundantly in MLK’s speeches and Newton’s Ten Points. In terms of action, both groups focused largely on peaceful demonstrations to raise awareness, such as MLK’s marches in various cities and the Black Panthers’ armed patrolling of black neighborhoods. However, MLK and Newton had complete different, if not opposing ideologies. MLK heavily preached traditional Christian values such as love and forgiveness, while Newton drew on a variety of ideas from his readings, such as Nietzsche’s existentialism, and completely rejected Christianity as enslaving. It is interesting that both groups sought alliance from groups with different ideologies than their own. MLK welcomed non-Christians to join the movement. Newton maintained correspondence with and borrowed ideas from Muslim activists, such as Malcolm X. It seems like their primary goal was to gain momentum for their movement and concrete actions, while their personal beliefs were used to justify their actions and label their movements in public events.

A similar phenomenon is seen in the Chicago Eight and the Catonsville Nine. The demonstrations led by the Chicago Eight and the burning of draft files by the Catonsville Nine were both protesting the Vietnam War. Both groups also used the trial as an opportunity to gain international attention and display political beliefs. An important difference in their actions, though, is that the Eight disregarded courtroom order in protest, while the Nine obeyed it to show their high moral standards. However, the purpose behind these different actions was still to expose the corrupt system. Despite similar pursuits, both had very different ideologies. It could be argued that the Eight did not have a unified ideology, as they were leaders of different organizations with different backgrounds. The Nine, however, were devoutly Catholic and used Jesus’ actions to justify their actions. Yet interestingly both groups deduced from their different ideologies that the appropriate action was to display anti-war sentiments publicly and use the trial for that purpose as well. Therefore, it seems to me that it was only the war that prompted their actions and they simply manipulated their ideologies to make an argument for their actions.

On a related note, after reading the several works mentioned above, what were the most relatable for me were not ideological arguments, such as how human dignity derives from God or how the will to power can make people good or evil, but instead their concrete struggles filled with vivid details. Therefore, I think what motivated people to join the movements would mostly be the anger and frustration of the system, and different ideologies were really only used to justify what must be done instead of guide the course of action.

The Coming of Age of Ireland

According to Wikipedia, coming-of-age, or Bildungsroman, “is a literary genre that focuses on the psychological and moral growth of the protagonist from youth to adulthood in which character change is important.” This idea struck me as I was revisiting Mojo Mickybo that perhaps the story could be read as a coming-of-age story, in which the two boys struggled and matured as a result of the interaction between their childhood innocence and the surrounding reality. This coming of age, then, may reflect the author’s impressions of the history of Ireland since 68’ as a whole, with the perpetual tension between the idealized, fantastic vision of a united Ireland and the complicated reality that kept the vision at bay.

First of all, Mojo Mickybo exhibits a striking similarity to the structure of a coming-of-age story. The two boys started off as the classic innocent, idealistic protagonists that enjoyed their freedom and yearned to explore the world. They were away from their parents most of the time and seemed to have complete confidence in interacting with adults—chatting with the smoking women, spying on Uncle Sidney, and talking their way past the Box Office lady. Perhaps the most striking feature of Mojo Mickybo as a coming-of-age story is the spirit of adventure—Mojo and Mickybo as Butch and Sundance, ready to shoot their way out of anything that blocked them from a good time and complete freedom. As the typical coming-of-age story goes, they sought trouble with Gank and Fuckface, and escaped. Shortly after, news began to spread about violent movements in Belfast, and the reality of violence between Catholics and Protestants quickly approached their lives. They still went after freedom, going to Newcastle county, but after they came back, reality inevitably clashed with their idealized lifestyle.

Triggered by Mickybo’s Da’s death, Mickybo was no longer able to “stay out of it all.” Although not explicitly portrayed, Mickybo sure went through tremendous internal turmoil before becoming mates with Gank and Fuckface and bullied Mojo. Now, Mickybo was maturing to better cope with the reality that he must face and conform to, although with detrimental effect on his innocence and idealistic lifestyle, just like a typical coming-of-age story protagonist. This maturation process was completed when, years later, Mojo and Mickybo saw each other but ignored each other, clearly still remembering their otherworldly friendship and idealistic lifestyle, but having to suppress it to survive in the status quo.

Considering the debut date in 1998, the year the Good Friday agreement was signed, and the setting in the 1970s, it is reasonable to think that Owen McCafferty used Mojo Mickybo to portray the maturation of Ireland, just like Mojo and Mickybo. In this case, the “childhood innocence” and “idealistic lifestyle” would be (ironically) the violent conflicts between Protestants and Catholics, usually without proper justification, and instead with just the “shoot anybody in my way” mentality, paralleling the fantasies of Mojo and Mickybo as Butch and Sundance. However, this “lifestyle” came to an end in 1998 with the Good Friday agreement, signaling the overtake by the reality that perpetual violence was not sustainable. In the new reality, with Ireland as a “grown-up,” compromises were made, just like how Mickybo sided with Gank and Fuckface, conforming to the reality.

Interestingly, we can also see a coming-of-age story in The Informer. Gypo symbolizes idealism and freedom, while the Organization symbolizes reality and structure. The society as a whole can be seen as the protagonist. At the beginning, Gypo informed on Frankie, which parallels the protagonist leaving home and going on an adventure in a typical coming-of-age story. This causes internal struggle as the reality quickly sets in, when Gypo was torn between enjoying his fortune and freedom and evading suspicion. Reality inevitably won, as the organization hunted Gypo down and killed him, signaling the death of idealism and freedom in the society. The remaining Organization then mirrors Ireland after 1998 that a status quo was maintained, and if one wanted to survive, they had to play with the rules.

This is not to say that idealism and the passion for a united Ireland is nonexistent. In a typical coming-of-age story, the protagonist would still cherish his idealistic vision, although it is often buried deep in the heart so as to cope with reality. The same goes for Ireland. Although outright violent efforts substantially decreased, activists like Eamonn McCann, Geoff Brown, and Sam Lord still clearly possessed the ideal, as evidenced by their hopeful and passionate voice when talking to us. But to Ireland, these people are like the idealistic self buried deep within, while the majority of society moves forward in a more realistic, balanced, and conforming way.

Spearheads Gone Too Fast

From all three works that we have looked at this week as well as Vinen’s 1968, it seems quite clear that most of the revolutionaries were enthusiastic young people, pushing a rigid organizational machine forward with strict rules, an unquestionable ideology, and unrelenting force. The “Organization” in each of the three works based on The Informer’s story is quite like spearheads. They were sharp—most never hesitated to use lethal force for the sake of the movement. They were fast—it was less than two days from hearing about Frankie’s death to killing Gypo. They were rigid—to join the movement was to effectively pledge for life. Such an organization closely resembles a military and should in principle have immense power to penetrate the existing status quo. However, it is perhaps exactly its overwhelming force that takes it too far, and in turn causes the movement to fall short in achieving its goals.

Liam O’Flaherty expresses the shortcoming of such organization in The Informer, a bleak portrayal of the Irish Civil War and the future of Ireland. The rigidity of structure and dogmatism of the Revolutionary Organization often turns on itself. Because of the “rules,” Gypo and Frankie were kicked out of the Organization and left without support. This is the main underlying cause of all that unfolded in the story. Gypo, in desperation, informed on Frankie just for 20 pounds. Again, based on the principle that betrayers must die, Gallagher hunted down Gypo and sentenced him to death. But Gypo, victimized by the rule and locked up in the cell, had to fight for survival, so he escaped. Gallagher fell into panic, and it could not be more clear that all his rambling of political theories is intended to ridicule the singular ideology of the Organization. The rigidity of the Organization put itself in grave danger, as Gypo got the chance to inform on Gallagher.

However, John Ford’s movie of the same name paints a completely different picture, praising the movement and inciting hope. He purposefully moved the timeframe to the Irish War of Independence to avoid any negative implications brought on by the Irish Civil War. The film portrays Gallagher as a calm, intelligent, and determined figure, fighting for the justice of the Irish people. The power of the organization is highly praised at the end, as Gallagher firmly refutes Katie’s plead to spare Gypo and says, “For Ireland!” This seems like a contradiction to O’Flaherty’s message, but one needs to look no further than John Ford’s biography to understand why. John Ford is Catholic and Irish American, so it makes perfect sense for him as an outsider to romanticize the War of Independence, and subsequently the IRA. However, in changing the story’s setting to the War of Independence, an important point is neglected: The War of Independence led to the split of the IRA into two factions, and precisely because of its militant and unyielding nature, led to the bloody Civil War.

The message of Uptight clearly does not shed positive light on the rising violent movement of Black America following King’s death. The addition of characters such as the old black leader who supports nonviolent protests and Teddy conveys another grave side effect of powerful militant organizations: lack of diversity. This not only refers to lack of tolerance for its members, such as Frankie and Gypo, but also to members of the general society. The old black leader desperately wanted to work with B. G., but only because of his opposition to violence they rejected him. Teddy was outright rejected simply because he was white, as “that’s the policy.” The racial struggle and the Irish Civil War certainly had many differences, but I think Jules Dassin was trying to make a point that diversity matters in all revolutions, especially immediately following King’s death. O’Flaherty’s novel touches on diversity, as Frankie’s father himself was a Socialist but wanted nonviolence. But Uptight’s emphasis on diversity was on a new level. King’s movement was unique; it was an enthusiastic youth movement, but also possessed many distinct qualities: nonviolence, diversity, tolerance, engagement, etc. There was hope that the spearheads of the radical youth would slow down just enough to gain traction with the society at large and bring about actual change. But King was murdered. The spearheads shot forward and the story repeated that of Ireland in the early 1920s: violence, killing, rejection of one’s own members, rejecting any outside voice.

Dassin saw hope in King’s approach. But that hope was quickly extinguished as King was murdered, leaving an almost helpless message in Uptight. The fire of revolution spread fast in 68’, rounding up young spearheads across the Atlantic. But perhaps that precise mechanism of rounding people up into ideology-driven, intolerant, fast-moving organizations caused their downfall. Slowing down and allowing the inflow of ideas and people might have got them closer to their goals in the first place.

To Hear the Silent Majority

In most history classes and history books I have read to this point, a time period is by default characterized by its most iconic symbols—influential people, remarkable events, and long-term effects on history at large. Historians, no matter on the “winning” or “losing” side of history, tend to record the most abnormal features of their period. This means that the “louder” some people are, the fewer of them are required to enter historical accounts. Country leaders are worth historians’ attention by themselves. Activist groups who otherwise are already prominent people may need a few members to be remembered. Civil Rights movements take thousands of political-minded citizens to enter history textbooks. Natural disasters and wars take millions of ordinary people to gain the same level of attention.

I was repeatedly reminded of this fact when I was reading Vinen—the overwhelming amount of historical knowledge and remarkable events seemed over the top to me. For example, the sheer number of student protestors and incidents of violence made me feel as if everybody was in the turmoil. However, even though there were a lot of uncertainties and radical activities in ’68, the people involved undeniably represented a very small portion of the human population. Reading Vinen was like walking into a dance party—whoever is louder and crazier grabs the most attention. Therefore, I became more interested in hearing the silent majority—what ‘68 was really like.

The discussions with Geoff Brown and Sam Lord were a good alternative to the processed material presented by Vinen. Seeing Sam skillfully screen-printing posters and hearing him talk about weekly conferences and poster sessions in ’68 allowed me to visualize their daily life. Hearing Geoff talk about how the radical movement was defeated but he still persists also let me feel how they feel. Even though they would probably fall in the “loud” group in ’68, they were mostly involved in one thing, and other movements happening globally were probably just as distant to them as they were to an ordinary citizen at that time. Therefore, people’s lives were probably not as hectic as what we would have felt just by reading history books like Vinen. Literature, as opposed to history, is often written from a single and small point of view. It also carries more emotion and everyday details that history often neglects. Therefore, I am looking forward to the literature we are going to read, which may shed light on the silent majority in ’68 to see how significant the turmoil actually was.