Irish History X, Vol. 2

In times of such great uncertainty, it helps to be able to look into the past and see how those who came before us grappled with the hand that fortune dealt them. In the rich, yet tragic history of this great Celtic land, lie great stories, which, when recounted, inspire anew. In this series, The Fair Observations looks back and tries to give a fair and balanced account of what happened before us.

Éamon de Valera

Éamon de Valera served two terms as the third president of Ireland, as well head of the government for over twenty years. For decades, despite the highly partisan climate in Irish politics, he was held in high regard by Irish people. He risked his life by fighting in the 1916 Rising, and having barely survived execution, he continued to campaign against British rule. As head of the government, he introduced further measures of independence and a constitution that guaranteed the basic liberties of all Irish citizens.  He maintained Irish neutrality in World War II, while secretly aiding the Allies. He refused any pay increase while in office.
De Valera had been subject to much criticism over his lifetime, especially over his decisions during and after the negotiations of the 1921 Anglo-Irish treaty. He had also been criticised for his cultural conservatism, his overly close ties to the Catholic Church, and the way in which he handled the economy. However, since the revelations of the 1996 film Michael Collins, the tarnish has spread over the entirety of de Valera's reputation. The film revealed how de Valera evilly sanctioned Michael Collins's assassination. Some assert that Dev even pulled the trigger himself. Before Collins was felled by a bullet to the head, witnesses heard a Limerick accent in the hilltops of Béal na Bláth utter "Take this, Michael."

Further revelations have emerged since the film, damaging his image forever:

• De Valera was lacking in symmetrical proportions, rendering both his face and his body  aesthetically unpleasing.

•  He never made time in his schedule to build rock-hard, shredded muscle or grow locks of leonine masculinity.
• The endearing anecdote about a young child urinating on de Valera's lap has been revealed to be more sinister than it was previously believed to be. Prior to these revelations, people only knew of how Dev had laughed it off, saying the child had the privilege of being able to say how he weed on the president. As it transpires, De Valera was a scatophilic, urophilic paedophile, who had given the child five litres of Cidona. When the child tried to speak out about the matter years later, Dev silenced him, by defecating down his throat. (Source: some webpage.)
• He selfishly caved into the whole mortality thing after a mere ninety-two years, and left behind his children and grandchildren, who had to mourn for him.
• De Valera's 'The Ireland That We Dreamed Of' speech, which he delivered over the radio on St. Patrick's Day 1943, and for which he is heavily criticised, was far worse in its original draft. The original poured hateful pile over the women of Ireland, wishing them pain and servitude. RTE insisted it be tamed, and de Valera agreed, on the condition that they aid him in his quest to ensure that all women who rose to political power in Ireland would have to be namesakes of the Virgin Mary. (A guarantor of purity in women, according to Dev. The plan has largely succeeded.)
• Having been spared execution after the 1916 Rising, de Valera was greatly disappointed to learn that the British thought him too irrelevant to execute. Determined to make his mark on politics, he held positions of political leadership until he was ninety, dominating politics for over fifty years.
• During the 1916 Rising, De Valera acted cowardly. He supposedly succumbed to the terror of the mortal danger. Like any other human being, he shamefully felt frightened in a life threatening situation. As a school teacher, he should have possessed super-human valour, during the entirety of the sleep-deprived conflict with the greatest empire in the world. His lack of calm showed him to be of ignoble and diabolical character.
• De Valera was a conservative traditionalist who failed to promote sexual expression, the rights of women, divorce, gay rights, and the acceptance of atheism. All at a time when liberalism was flourishing all over Europe and the US. Often referred to as 'the emancipation of liberty' or 'the second enlightenment', 1933-1959 saw the emergence of civil rights and massive social change. By 1960, no liberty was left to be granted, whether it be sexual, religious, racial, or marital. The rest of the world would have been appalled by how far Ireland was behind the Zeitgeist, but (fortunately) the word was not in vogue at the time.
• During the 1950s, Dev ordered Dublin City Council to put powdered asbestos in the water of less well-off areas. He hoped that the piles of corpses could be used to fertilise new agricultural land in the city, and eventually ruralise the whole of Ireland. 
• Overcome by emotions of grief, de Valera wrote an impassioned and sentimental condolence letter to the German people after the death of Adolf Hitler. Knowledge of it was suppressed for decades, and the government fooled people into believing that the Taoiseach has sent a less embarrassing message. 
• De Valera wore glasses. Somebody had to go out of their way to manufacture him a pair of spectacles, because he was too selfish to see properly.
• He ate food. The Earth's population increased rapidly in the twentieth century, and consuming natural resources showed a lack of foresight and global awareness.

These points are but a few of the many scandalous facts that have emerged in recent years. Young Fine Gael will undoubtedly give you more if you can stomach some smarmy, little punk throwing trendy words and ideas at you — an activity that nearly rivals the dredge that seeps out of the Sunday Independent. Regardless of your view of Irish history and Éamon de Valera, I think we can all agree on saying fuck Young Fine Gael and fuck the Sunday Independent.