‘Time = Hope + Disappointment’- from the Notebooks of
Thomas Kinsella
I have never lived through a revolutionary period before,
so I have nothing to compare this to. But it’s certainly more draining then I
expected.
On a professional level I have tried to remain
coolly detached in recent weeks- with reports for RTE Radio and 'The Sunday Business
Post' and others. But in reality, although I am just an observer here, the
mounting fears of counter revolution have sucked much of my energy out, and I
am watching it evaporate in the unforgiving Cairo heat.
This is a period of deep concern for the “revolutionary
movement”. Just in the last week a Supreme Court decision ruled that candidate
of the old regime, Ahmed Shafiq, could stand in the Presidential election, and
it also dissolved the freely elected parliament. The military gave itself
sweeping new powers, thus rendering the newly elected President, in the eyes of
some- little more than a figurehead. In the election itself the Muslim
Brotherhood candidate appeared to win according to all tallies- however no
official announcement has yet been made, and there are many rumours. Many, many
rumours. There is heightened security across the country, and dropped into the
mix is news that former dictator Hosni Mubarak is swinging between “clinically
dead” and “technically alive” according to a confused state media.
Many supporters of the revolution feel squeezed between
the military leadership and the Muslim Brotherhood.
In my report for today’s ‘The Sunday Business Post’ (23.06.2012) I write
“While the daily details of constitutional crisis, parliamentary debates,
street protests and election disputes can become overwhelming here (for
Egyptians and foreign correspondents alike), the complexity tends to obscure an
essential narrative.

Kinsella sees reality as one of contested opposition. In
his early notebooks he extols the equation, ‘Time = Hope + Disappointment’.
Life is doomed by inevitable disappointment in this Kinsellian universe, it can
be but endured. Poetry, love and other “urges” (sometimes political) are
admirable hopeful strategies of adjustment to this doomed fate. The hope side
of his dialectic is intrinsic to human experience, but in the end futile.
Disappointment subsumes its opposite, synthesising it into infinite dehumanised
time.
In his sprawling, muscular elegy, ‘The Messeger’ Kinsella
charts his late father’s (a labour activist and trade unionist) lifetime in reverse. By inverting time’s arrow,
Kinsella allows the inherent disappointment of the later life to be uplifted by
the end of the poem, by the hopefulness of his father’s early idealism. It is a
case of technical form triumphing over living inevitability.
In a series of scenes, his father John’s life is
imagined, reading Marx as a young worker in the 1920s. John’s hopeful mind
lingers upon the vision of tragic inspiration forever burnt into the collective
consciousness of the Irish left. ‘Connolly strapped in a chair/regarding the
guns/that shall pronounce his name for ever’. Later a faithful follower of
James Larkin and his proletarian proselytising, John was instrumental in the
formation of the first trade union in Guinness Brewery. Kinsella recalls his
father at an election rally outside the Black Lion in Inchicore- fiery and
heroic. “He is good looking and dark/He has a raincoat belted tight/and his
hair is brushed back, like what actor/He is shouting about the Blueshirts, but
his voice is hoarse/His arm pointing upwards.” Later Kinsella, a semi aware
child, is led by his father’s hand out of mass, as Father Collier roars from
the pulpit. ‘thick white hair, a red face/a black mouth shouting/Godless Russia
after us’.
His father’s struggles are recalled, but the tone of
respect is substantially qualified. The socialist hope in equality and
democracy, personified in the “half fierce force” of his father, is flawed.
“For there is really nothing to be done/There is an urge,
and it is valuable/but it is of no avail”
Of no avail not so much because of some inherent
political or economic faults, rather because such a revolutionary project is
rendered almost meaningless when set beside life’s constants - disappointment
and death. To the action ready Leninist who yearns to know what is to be done?
Kinsella replies with the sobering ‘really nothing’.
One reaction to these lines could be to denigrate them as
product of weary bourgeois adulthood. But with each reading my mind moved from
reflexive political scorn. Kinsella’s reflections are subtle. For even though
he believes his father’s struggle “of no avail”, there is an urge to do good,
“and it is valuable”.
Surely Kinsella is correct on at least one essential point, disappointment is a constant
in life, and it cannot be decreed away. Every revolution is destined to
disappoint, every hard won reform later to be damned as paltry by radicals or
condescended as inevitable by lying conservatives. Every personal hope and
dream unfulfilled as we originally hoped. Unquestionably our personal and
public lives are rendered objectively meaningless by gorging time. Yet this is
not enough reason to retreat from involvement in the progressive cause. There
remains “an urge”, maybe just as much a constant as death and disappointment.
This urge cannot overcome mortality, but it can achieve less insurmountable
goals- for instance maybe the extension of democratic accountability into the
market, with the replacement of private profiteering with conscious public
planning? Maybe?
Alas, the cause of social
justice can never compete with the religious promise of eternal life under the
warm glow of God’s love- in so doing overcoming both death and disappointment. Democracy,
socialism, or social justice may be good, but they are not that good.
Visualising his father making a fiery speech on a Labour Party
platform, Kinsella remains sceptical, yet believes it is in such moments where
something precious is found.
‘Goodness is where you find it/Abnormal/A pearl’
A world shaped predominantly by people like his father,
would see disappointment continue to darken our lives and death destroy
everything, but where temporal society would be decent. This is the hope.
*
The Egyptian revolution has sparkled brightly with all the
young pearls that have supported, fought, and died for it. Even in a time of
dark disappointment, like now, they still light the way of hope.
(I love this scene from an 'Arts Lives' documentary about Kinsella. It's so tender and funny. His lifelong muse Eleanor, the inspiration for much of his wonderful early love poetry, is both praising and gently chiding Thomas in an amusing, and dare I say, distinctively Irish woman's way...I think this is basically like having a video of an interview between Keats and Fanny Brawne.


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