Fergus O'Farrell's biography of Cathal Brugha is a welcome addition to the Historical Association of Ireland ‘Life and Times Series’ which was relaunched by U.C.D. Press in 2008 and aims to bring new research on leading historical figures to the attention of students and the general public. Divided into short, digestible chapters, this work vividly sketches a portrait of the enigmatic figure of Cathal Brugha while simultaneously providing a comprehensive overview of the historical backdrop.
O'Farrell fervently argues that Brugha should not be regarded as a ‘one-dimensional gunman’ and aims to present a more nuanced impression of the man best-known for his dogged refusal to surrender both in 1916 and 1922. Attention is afforded to Brugha's withdrawal from the I.R.B. and his focus on political organisation in the aftermath of the Rising. O'Farrell highlights how Brugha's plan to assassinate members of the British cabinet during the conscription crisis was unanimously endorsed by the Irish Volunteer executive, but that Brugha hoped that talks at the Paris Peace Conference would prevent such actions. As minister for defence, Brugha attempted to subordinate the I.R.A., removed fifteen names from the Bloody Sunday hit-list, and took steps to avoid civilian casualties and the execution of women spies. His deep-seated intransigence on such issues led to the well-known fallout with Michael Collins which O'Farrell ascribes more to a power struggle than personal jealousy.
While O'Farrell has excavated fresh sources from the U.C.D. and Military Archives, less content is drawn from the two earlier Irish language biographies of Brugha – the first by J. J. O'Kelly (Sceilg) in 1942 and the second by Brugha's nephew, Tomás Ó Dochartaigh, in 1969. O'Farrell is dismissive of Sceilg's text, noting it is ‘reverent, hagiographical and overtly nationalist’, and that it is ‘esoteric to all but the most initiated’ given that it is printed in the seanchló. Yet, Sceilg had access to Brugha's personal papers which are now unaccounted for. Furthermore, O'Farrell claims that ‘chapter two is a 5,000-word tract on Ireland's history from the Norman conquest to Cromwell’, seeming to miss the fact that it actually comprises (along with other first-hand testimonies) an eleven-page lecture delivered by Brugha himself to the Gaelic League, entitled ‘Saoghal agus Saothar Eoghain Ruaidh Uí Néill’. This is surely an important source worth unpacking in order to understand Brugha's use of historical evidence to vindicate his contemporary politics. A greater appreciation and more effective use of these essential primary sources would have undoubtedly enhanced the publication.
O'Farrell's account is also unfortunately let down by a flurry of mis-spelt personal names, particularly names in Irish which often are incorrect. In addition, many significant figures are overlooked in the book's two-page index, reducing its usefulness for researchers. Even Caitlín Brugha (née Kingston) – who orchestrated the female-only guard of honour at her husband's funeral and subsequently took his Sinn Féin seat in Waterford – is omitted from the index and scarcely mentioned in the text. Leaving such quibbles aside, O'Farrell should be commended for reintroducing Cathal Brugha to historical debate; the question of how to commemorate such complex attitudes to violence will undoubtedly be fleshed out during the centenaries to come.
