SEARC'S WEB GUIDE - Michael Farrell (born 1944)

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Searc's Web Guide to 20th Century Ireland - Michael Farrell (born 1944)

Michael Farrell was born in Magherafelt, County Derry. He was educated at St. Patrick's College, Armagh; Queen's University, Belfast and at the University of Strathclyde where he obtained an M.Sc in Politics. While a student at QUB Farrell was Chairperson of the Labour group and a Vice-President of the Union of Students of Ireland. He was a founder member of People's Democracy, a republican socialist party founded in October, 1968, and stood as their candidate for Bannside in the 1969 Westminster election. Throughout 1969-1970 Farrell was on the executive of the Northern Ireland Civil Rights Association and was interned without trial for six weeks from August 9th, 1971. Farrell was vice-Chairperson of the Northern Resistance Movement in the 1971-1973 period.
On February 10th, 1973 he partook in a banned People's Democracy rally in the Falls Road district of Belfast which was disrupted by the British Army who assaulted Farrell and fellow PD member Tony Canavan. They were later both charged with 'conduct whereby a breach of the peace was liable to be occasioned' and were sentenced to eight and six months imprisonment respectively. They appealed their convictions but lost and on June 26th, 1973 they were imprisoned in Crumlin Road Gaol, Belfast where they demanded political status which was normally only accorded to prisoners with sentences over nine months duration. Farrell and Canavan refused to wear prison clothes in demand of political status and on July 6th, 1973 they commenced a hunger-strike which lasted for thirty-four days. After 28 days on hunger-strike Farrell was moved to the Royal Victoria Hospital, Belfast where, six days later, he learned of his release. Farrell remained active in People's Democracy throughout the 1970's and periodically edited their newspaper until the 1980's when he campaigned for the release of victims of miscarriage of justice cases in England and in the Republic of Ireland. Farrell now works as a solicitor and is co-Chairperson of the Irish Council of Civil Liberties and a member of the Board of the Irish Commission for Prisoners Overseas.
Michael Farrell has published Northern Ireland the Orange State (1976); The Magill Book of Irish Politics (1981); Arming the Protestants (1983); Sheltering the Fugitive (1986); Emergency Legislation (1986) and he edited Twenty Years On (1988).
This extract is from Farrell's article 'Thirty-Four Days on Hunger-Strike' first published in a pamphlet entitled Behind the Wire (1974).©

Day after day the conviction crept into my head that we would be released. I tried to shove it out again so I wouldn't be too disappointed when I had to go to Long Kesh, but it crept back. I was convinced about it now. We'd win and be released. It was only a matter of endurance. And I'd sooner die than give in now. I hadn't put in thirty-four days of hell on earth for nothing.
If [Thomas] MacSwiney and Sean MacCaughey* had lasted to death I could last another week. And, besides, it was the day-time. I could last till night and then I could somehow struggle through to morning and so on every day. Dublin People's Democracy were to have a rally at the GPO on Saturday. I could stick it out till then at least. I think they thought I was delirious I was so insistent, so fanatical, so confident - so angry at their depression.
That afternoon Orla was in again with a journalist who had been at a press briefing at Stormont the day before. For the first time the cynical Civil Servants had shown some concern - not about us of course, but about the consequences if we died on their hands. Perhaps they'd even looked up their history books and discovered who Thomas MacSwiney was.
Orla left about 4.15pm in a little better form. I settled down to try to finish The Year of Liberty [by Thomas Packenham]. Just after 5.00pm the Ward Sister came over to my bed. There was a phone call. Would I take it myself? She thought it was my wife but I'd better make sure. It seemed important. She seemed to be suppressing her excitment. The nurses put me in a chair and wheeled me to the office. It was Orla. The BBC had rung to say that we and one hundred other short-term prisoners were to be released. So I'd been right.
She could barely believe it. I wouldn't take it in. Could she check it with the SDLP? Finally I settled for the Northern Ireland News at ten to six. If it was on the News I'd accept it and eat. It was nearly tea-time and the nurses were all busy. I was left sitting in my chair for ten minutes not knowing what to do with myself. Finally they came and put me back in bed. The Professor came in beaming and congratulated me. I was still suspicious. I told him he could work out what he gave me but I wouldn't eat till I heard the News. I just lay there in a daze. Sure enough there it was. The Government had concocted some complicated formula to prove they weren't giving in but we were free alright. Where I had expected at the very best to be in Long Kesh until December 6th I was a free man on August 8th. I could get up and walk away - except that I couldn't walk. The hunger-strike seemed nothing. The horrors, the depression, the desperation were all forgotten. I had my first glass of milk and water at 6.15pm. It tasted heavenly. Then they gave me orange juice with glucose in it and I got violently sick. When Orla came back again I was as bad as during the worst night-time fits of nausea, but we were supremely happy. Then they put me back on milk and water and I was alright. I had a statement written when Orla came. Tomorrow was August 9th and it was vital that there be a massive turnout for the protest at the 2nd Anniversary of Internment. Our release was obviously aimed at defusing them.
The statement read: 'This is an epic victory and a total vindication of our stand from the beginning. We are delighted that many others are to benefit from our victory as well. We never intended our protest to be limited to our position alone. We would like to thank again all those who supported and helped us in so many ways and without whom victory would not have been possible. We would urge again all those who supported us to remember the hundreds of men and women still interned and serving long prison sentences: There will be no lasting peace in Ireland until there is an amnesty for all political prisoners. We call for massive support for the Internment protest tomorrow and Sunday.'
At about nine on Wednesday night the Ward Sister drew the curtains round my bed and a small man with a brief-case and the air of a startled rabbit appeared. He introduced himself as Hilditch the Prison Governor and hurriedly read an official sounding document. He then opened his brief-case, handed my watch and carefully counted out 96p, the amount of money I had when I went into jail. After this ludicrous little ceremony I was officially free. At night I sipped the milk and water. I barely slept at all but it didn't matter, I was free.
In the morning I had a saucerful of scrambled eggs - my first, and last, solid food for several days. It was delicious. In the afternoon the doctors came and congratulated me. They also told me that the vitamin deficiency had seriously affected the nerves in my legs.
Another day or two and they'd have gone for good. Nine days later I left the hospital, weighing 10� stone - I had been down to 8 stone 9 from about 12 stone 10 - a bit shaky on my legs; a free man; and imbued with a deeper and more lasting hatred of British rule in Ireland than ever before.
*See Brendan Behan's poem -The Dead March Past. � Searc's Web Guide 1997-2008

20th Century Ireland (1947-2000) Irish History Index
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