Bomb Attack in N. Ireland

Enniskillen, fare thee well. No terrible beauty here, just a pile of smoking rubble, two score Irishmen dead and wounded, and a town that will never be the same.

I wonder about the people of Enniskillen now, Catholics and Protestants who have peacefully coexisted for so long, and what closed-door conversations must be taking place. Protestants seething and Catholics wondering about the inevitable reprisal. Make no mistake: in Ireland it’s sure to come.

At such times I am sick and ashamed to be Irish-American, to be part of a people so lost and self-deluded that they may never find their way.

Sure, I know my history; I know about centuries of John Bull tyranny. But I also know that then is then and now is now, and no problem will ever be solved by clinging to the 19th-Century notion that power comes from the barrel of a gun.

Where, I wonder, is the world’s opinion of such barbarism? It’s as if this is the way things are in Ireland: They are killing each other, so it’s their business.

I have thought many times through the years--after Lord Mountbatten, after the Horse Guards--maybe this is it; surely the revulsion of the world will have some influence. Now after Enniskillen, I already see a return to business as usual.

In the peculiar logic of sectarian violence, the IRA ever apologizes for the deaths of civilians, saying the bomb was meant for British soldiers. Again this will pass. Again memories will be short, and the killing will go on like explosive temper tantrums of angry children.

As for Ireland, we will go on perceiving the auld sod through a sentimental mist of drunken St. Patrick’s Day revelries, idyllic travel posters and Barry Fitzgerald caricatures.

The reality is anything but.

KEVIN FLYNN BURKE

Studio City