Bás, Fás, Blás
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Bás, Fás, Blás is a poem written by Irish poet Dominic Behan in 1975 in memory of Official IRA leader Billy McMillen, who was murdered in an intra-republican feud with the Irish National Liberation Army.
[edit] Context
The poem's title means "Death, Growth, Flavour" in the Irish Language. Behan was a supporter of the Official republican movement, who combined Irish republican and marxist politics. He praises McMillen for being an existentialist and communist. The Official IRA, of which Billy McMillen was the Belfast commander, called a ceasefire in 1972. In 1974, a militant faction within the OIRA, grouped around Seamus Costello left the organisation to set up the Irish National Liberation Army and Irish Republican Socialist Party, determined to pursue "armed struggle" in Northern Ireland. Shortly afterwards, a feud broke out between the two factions in Belfast, primarily caused by competition over control of Official IRA weapons dumps. McMillen, who was shot dead by Gerard Steenson in April 1975, was one of the last victims of the feud.
Behan's poem is very hostile to the INLA/IRSP. It calls them "wee [small] men" and "gombeens [an Irish term meaning con men] of the infantile disorder". This is a reference to Lenin's description of left wing communism as an "infantile disorder" and a disparaging reference to the INLA's far left wing rhetoric. The text also implies that the INLA are not real republicans, as it alleges that they wear "blueshirts around their breasts". The Blueshirts were a semi-fascist anti-republican group in Ireland in the 1930s. Finally, the poem repeats a common criticism of the INLA, that they were mindless gunmen, referring to their, "John Wayne politics and "Wild West tactics" trying to "subdue what they could not understand".
[edit] Text
Bás, Fás, Blás by Dominic Behan
"Man's dearest possession", said Mayakovski, "is life"
Alive or dead, that life and its style
May only be lived for man's fellow man
If the living of it is to be worthwhile.
You lived that way, Billy, validly, hurriedly
Because time was so little
And the liberation of mankind is time,
And time and life consuming,
And the wee men - gombeens of infantile disorder,
Wearing read sack and ashes around their arses
To hide the blueshirts near their breasts
Went, with their John Wayne politics
Their Wild West tactics to subdue
What they could not comprehend
-The existentialist... the communist -
Thinking that in death they can make an end of you.
They don't know us as we do!
Proud to have known you, friend.
