The recent furore over Donncha O hEallaithe's article in English about whether or not Teilifis na Gaeilge is worth the candle highlighted once again that curious phenomenon regarding Irish-language matters and the English-speaking public: nothing happens until it happens in English.
You might be forgiven for thinking that O hEallaithe's article was telling TnaG's management something it didn't already know. However, O hEallaithe had made his views on aspects of TnaG known before this in the letters page of the Irish-language weekly Foinse and, more recently, on Raidio na Gaeltachta. Similarly, the journalist Muiris Mac Conghail has raised questions about TnG in Foinse, as has this paper's columnist, Liam O Muirthile. I too have criticised the station.
It would not be inaccurate to say that there has been a vigorous and forceful discussion among Irish speakers on the merits and demerits of TnaG since it began broadcasting two years ago.
No reply in Irish
This was a discussion conducted exclusively through Irish and it was one that the management of TnaG was quite happy to ignore. As far as I am aware, the station did not reply publicly to the opinions expressed in Irish by any of the people above.
Indeed, on two separate occasions that I know of, the station has refused to put forward a spokesperson to debate its role on Raidio na Gaeltachta.
It is somewhat surprising, therefore, that the station expressed its amazement when a member of its own council decided to write in English about what he felt were its inadequacies. Why wouldn't he?
If, as TnaG's head, Cathal Goan, has stated, the station need make no apology for its use of English to bolster its viewing figures then, similarly, Mr O hEallaithe need make no excuse for using English to question the station.
It was not the least surprising to discover, moreover, that TnaG was more than happy to reply in English to his article. Indeed, it is not the first time that TnaG has come out to bat when critical pieces have appeared in English. Articles by Kevin Myers and a recent unfavourable Editorial in this paper drew swift responses in the other official tongue.
Since its inception, TnaG has promoted itself as brash, flash, new, exciting and modern. Therefore, runs the argument, those who are critical of it must be of the Fainne-wearing, pipesmoking, Aran-jumper-attired brigade. There's no need to pay much attention to such people.
If only this were true, TnaG would have few troubles. In my experience, however, the people least enamoured with TnaG are exactly the people one might expect to want it most. They are passionate about the language while not falling into the category of head cases. But rather than responding to their misgivings about TnaG, the station has chosen to ignore their views - until they start expressing them in English, that is.
Yapping dog
It just goes to prove that writing in Irish (even about Irish-language issues) is rather like being a guard dog locked in a garden shed: people hear you yapping but they aren't that scared. Hence the peculiar atmosphere in which the whole O hEallaithe furore took place. English speakers who were antagonistic to TnaG from the start thought Christmas had arrived early, while dark mutterings were to be heard among doctrinaire Garglers about O hEallaithe's
"loyalty" to the language. Ah, yes, loyalty. The language as a linguistic Masonic handshake whereby every Irish speaker unconsciously agrees to join the nod-and-wink school of thought, the we're-all-in-this-together movement. Whatever you say, say nothing - in English. What's a fact in one language becomes a fiction in the other. It's an ambiguous way to think: English, the language of mass publicity, intellectual rigour, forceful debate; Irish, beautiful language, very musical, good for singing.
Flurry of letters
As an example of this sort of thing, readers may have noticed a recent flurry of letters in this paper regarding the Northern Ireland Arts Council and its lack of a policy for the arts in Irish. Some 400 words (what I wrote in English) resulted in a published correspondence of five letters. Count them. Five. Attack, counter-attack, counter-counter-attack, counter-counter-counter-attack. Talk about a return on your investment. I'm almost sorry that I haven't the time to translate all the other uncomplimentary material that has appeared in Tuarascail about the Northern arts council. That would have been worth a few letters too - if the council had anyone who actually read Irish. (For those of you who don't know, Tuarascail is the half-page of gobbledegook which appears on a Wednesday.)
So, the moral of the story is: if you're going to bark, bark as Bearla. I am Pol O Muiri, ace iriseoir, hear me howl.