Cork Irish

October 31, 2009

Morality and Truth

Filed under: conservative politics — admin @ 5:24 pm

The difficulty we as conservatives face in trying to get a hearing for our ideas in the mainstream media and also in private conversations is that it does not really matter how right we are. We can go to great lengths to research political topics and to hone our arguments, but the more we do so, the more we prove to liberals just how “obsessed” we are. A cogent argument is a “rant”. The debate has moved way beyond facts and logical argumentation. Our conviction that the truth will win out is encapsulated in the saying that “a racist is someone who is winning an argument with a liberal”. Presumably, the liberal is expected to privately realize he has lost the argument, and perhaps be more amenable to reason next time. I am afraid that is not how it works.

What the accusation of racism means is that people who make conservative arguments are not nice people. It has nothing to do with the truth or otherwise of our arguments. This was pointed out in Allan Bloom’s Closing of the American Mind. Professor Bloom argued that cultural relativism was not a point of view arrived at after extensive research of the cultures of the world, but amounted to a saccharine moral that “we should all get along”. We should be “nice people”—and that means refraining from expressing negative attitudes towards other cultures, whether well-founded or not. A liberal will often stop a conservative from explaining his point of view in mid-sentence, not in fact because he fears our understanding and greater reasoning ability, but in order to prove his moral superiority. Quite simply our ideas are deemed to be nasty—supposedly, only nasty people want to retain their national culture or remain in a majority in their own societies. It is simple to point out that the same liberals value the attempt of minorities to keep their own cultures, and so their views contain double standards and logical errors, but to approach the question in this way just becomes a “rant”.

In order to understand why liberals like to grandstand morally, we need to understand the role that morality plays in society and how it underpins the rule of the social elite. This issue is key to the writings of Antonio Gramsci. Gramsci was a Marxist who noted the relative stability of “bourgeois society”, and drew the conclusion that this was because the ruling class enjoyed “cultural hegemony”. A ruling class cannot survive based on force alone; its power is buttressed by cultural support—buttressed by a moral image—that usually renders its monopoly of force redundant. Such a view can be described as conservative in that it is essentially contradictory to the “materialist” assumptions of Marxism, reflecting Gramsci’s disillusionment with the failure of the revolutionary movement in Italy. Gramsci’s theory of cultural hegemony was set out in his work The Modern Prince, which drew on the thought of Niccolò Macchiavelli, who argued that the Prince should promote whatever cultural and religious customs would unite society, regardless of whether they were true or not. As long as the population believed in those cultural and religious traditions, support for them would render the Prince’s rule morally acceptable. So it was that the leading figures in English society as late as the 1930s were required to appear to support the Christian church, the monarchy, and our customs and way of life more generally. The working class for their part were attracted in greater numbers to Methodism than to Marxism.

However, since the Enlightenment, Western culture has become more amenable to rational deconstruction, unlike its rivals in the Islamic and East Asian civilizations. While our traditions could have continued to buttress the rule of our elite, cultural hegemony is not entirely cynically accessed. An elite that no longer really believes in its mission begins to search for alternative value-systems—other systems of morality that can justify its rule. In the 18th and 19th centuries the British elite was required to support British culture as the price of its rule, but there was little reason why they should not want to do so. But once the culture had been subjected to ruthless Marxist and Freudian deconstruction, and following the traumatic experience of the two world wars, which intellectually discredited Western civilization, the search was on for a more workable morality, leading in the post-war period to the assertion that anti-racism and support for cultural diversity represent the acme of good morals. The discovery of the theory of evolution and modern Bible criticism had undermined belief in our traditional culture somewhat earlier. The Russian Revolution and the pointless barbarity of the First World War also knocked the West’s confidence in itself, but, as Gramsci noted, civil society, morality and patriotism allowed the system to trundle on, only to culminate once again in fascism, genocide and the 55m dead of the Second World War. Many soldiers returned from the war to find that their wives had been unfaithful (this prompted the formation of the Marriage Guidance Council in England). Patriotism was smeared by a (false) association with fascism. There was no energy or belief in imperialism left, and the British Empire was quickly disposed of.

The real arguments for morality and patriotism that conservatives are still trying to win were lost in the 1950s, and a gradual search for a different set of values to underpin the Establishment’s cultural hegemony was set in motion. The process was partly obscured by the Cold War—while our rulers were shifting their ground and putting in place the foundation for a new type of society, conservatives were mainly chasing down the dead end of anti-communism. Freedom was declared to be the defining point of Western society in the 40 years before the fall of communism, while policies were adopted that would dissolve the real fabric of society, in turn laying the foundation for a retreat from liberty more recently. We have traditions of liberty, but no society can be mainly about liberty alone; we are learning now that liberty becomes licence and diversity, which eventually corrodes any real social bonds. Put differently, real liberty depends on a society that still has the glue of a common culture.

No longer convinced that the nation-state represents an adequate moral project to justify its rule, the Western elite is anxious to portray itself in more universalist terms, and that requires a recreation of society demographically. The key point about immigration is not that business interests support immigration in order to get cheap labour—this somewhat reductionist analysis may be the easiest one to advance in a five-minute conversation—but that the issue is seen as a moral one by our new rulers. Business leaders who do want cheap labour are able to grandstand morally as if their self-interest were some kind of altruism. But the search for cheap labour is not really what drives the agenda of cultural diversity. It follows therefore that the cheap labour argument falls flat for us, because we are thereby not taking on the moral agenda of our new elite, one that inspires it with a sense of self-righteousness despite the negative effects of such an agenda on society as a whole. It is important to recognize that cultural hegemony has two aspects: justifying an elite’s rule to society at large, and justifying its own rule to itself. As long as the ruling class in society is cohered by a sense of values and purpose, it will bring enough middle class people along with it to remain in power. So, the second moment, that of justifying its rule to itself, is actually primary. Just as the Soviet Union fell because the Soviet nomenklatura no longer believed in itself, our rulers cannot be undermined without undermining their self-belief first.

True, there is the difficulty for the new Establishment that, unlike the old morality of family, church and nation, the morality of supporting diverse lifestyles and of encouraging cultural diversity cannot really unite society. True morality and patriotism hold a society together—social leaders were once forced to uphold these values as a price of their positions, but the quid pro quo for us was that a decent society was created. Diversity, by contrast, divides society into competing groups, and cannot realistically become an ideology that fully unites society. But by dissolving the national spirit and culture, English people (and the same process is at work in all other European and European-descended nations) lose their connection with one another. As real communities cease to exist, the population becomes individuated. Even the family is no longer the unit that it was, as most marriages end in divorce and children do not necessarily maintain contact with their parents. As civil society becomes weaker, state intervention is extended to more areas of life.

Society never really feels good about itself anymore, but the more problems there are, the more middle-class people become involved in attempts to manage social conflict. School teachers get a rush of moral superiority as they punish pupils—even infants, according to the newspaper reports in the UK—for politically incorrect language. Every company employs a phalanx of workers dedicated to the promotion of anti-harassment codes and equal opportunities. The diversity agenda continually wears society down with the negativity of social discussion, but anybody who is anybody embraces the new moral agenda. Traditional views become largely confined to the working class, or people nowhere near the trough. Those who are at the trough justify their position by their moral superiority over those who do not accept the new moral agenda. The middle classes have always sought respectability, but the current values that enable them to claim moral respectability just happen to be socially divisive. However, as long as they believe that their values are socially divisive only because nasty people—“racists”—are standing in the way of a more successful embracing of their values, these social values will remain an avenue for social respectability.

“Respectable” individuals enjoy to an extent the feeling of disgust they feel when confronted with someone who refuses to accept the anti-social values being promoted by the elite today. At the very least, it enables them to get a “fix” of moral superiority. These are the people who wrung their hands over Chile under Pinochet while studiously ignoring a much greater death toll during the same time period in Zimbabwe (where around 30,000 members of the Matabele tribe were slaughtered). This synthetic morality seems curiously selective. The eyes of the politically correct glaze over if you point out such details—they are not really interested in any of their causes as such—they do not really give a damn about the desaparecidos of Pinochet’s Chile any more than the Matabele—so much as the chance to prove their own moral superiority to themselves. Even people who disagree on the science behind claims of global warming can be seen as immoral, as utterly trivial issues such as the use of a supermarket plastic bag become touchstones of people’s moral characters.

We need to paint the current elite and its middle-class hangers-on in their true light, as immoral collectively and individually. This is a challenge, as these “respectable” people go to great lengths to demonstrate their niceness. They are not imperialists, or “racists”, or “sexists” or “homophobes”. They love everyone and everything. They fret—or claim to fret—about women’s rights in Mauritania and the plight of homosexuals in Iran. They are delighted to let you know they vote for parties that would enable people like themselves to pay a bit more in tax, because they are concerned about the poor. They are the very definition of the Pharisaical “whited sepulchres” that the Gospels speak of. Unless we can demonstrate that these seemingly nice people are actually self-serving and uncaring we do not stand a chance of undermining their rule. There are various arguments we could adduce. Liberals undermine the socioeconomic position of the most vulnerable in their societies by fostering immigration. Their enthusiasm for state intervention and welfare has led to the growth of single-parent families—it is “nasty” to criticize them, but what about the children? Such children are statistically highly likely to end up in crime, delinquency, welfare and prison. Support for divorce, abortion and homosexuality has in fact led to tens of millions of unhappy lives. We need to hammer home that these self-righteous people are spreading misery in their own societies. People who support the EU on the grounds that it represents international co-operation are actually closing off Europe from trade in agricultural commodities with the poorest of nations. Supporters of state spending are actually fostering the growth of a large group of public-sector workers, whose salaries and pensions are in many cases financed from the taxes of people who face greater challenges in struggling to make ends meet.

As far as immigration is concerned, we are robbing developing nations of their most mobile populations—whatever you think of immigrants, both legal and illegal, they are undoubtedly resourceful in managing to better themselves at our expense. As far as liberal concern for other nations and the human race as a whole is concerned, maybe we could point out the reality that, short of recolonizing the entire developing world, we must respect those nations’ right to sovereignty, as how can we be responsible for the plight of people over whose affairs we have no say? Real morality begins with creating a good society—and if other countries have less successful societies that is a problem for them to address. The self-righteousness of internationalist concern for failed societies beyond the seas leads directly to wars in countries like Iraq and Afghanistan, which the liberals, of course, claim to oppose. Self-righteousness in our own countries leads directly to a rise in crime and social anomie, complemented by the growth of an underclass. A desire for a national culture is not bigotry at all, but a quest for a social discourse that provides meaning and a place in society even for the economically disadvantaged. The smugness of liberals who oppose a national culture has written the most vulnerable out of society. Liberalism must be exposed as exploitative, nasty, cynical, hypocritical and self-serving. True, pointing out that business leaders want cheap labour paints them as self-serving in a financial sense. But liberals more generally exploit their moral grandstanding to paint themselves as wonderfully compassionate figures, despite the colossal negative impact of the policies they support. I am sure better conservatives than I can think of many ways in which the claims of “liberalism” to the moral high ground can be refuted. Until we get to the point where many of our rulers privately start to wonder whether multiculturalism, diversity, the large state and so on are actually deeply immoral projects, we will continue to lose all significant ideological battles.

October 24, 2009

Maitiú 14

Filed under: An Soisgéal do réir Mhaitiú — admin @ 9:43 am

CAIBIDIOL 14.

Eóin baiste d’á chur chun báis ag Héród. Bia d’á thabhairt ag Críost do chúig mhíle duine sa bhfásach. É ag siubhal ar an bhfaraige, agus an uile shaghas lucht galair d’á leigheas aige, gan ach iad do bhaint le n-a chuid éadaigh.

Sa n-am san do chualaidh Héród, an tetrarc, cáil Íosa. Agus dubhairt sé le n-a mhuintir thighe: Sidé Eóin Baiste; d’eirigh sé órna mairbh, agus is uime sin atáid na mírbhuiltí d’á ndéanamh tríd.
Óir bhí Héród tar éis Eóin do ghabháil agus do cheangal agus do chur i mbraighdineas mar gheall ar Héródias, bean a dhrithár. Mar dubhairt Eóin leis: Ní dleaghthach duit í sin a bheith agat. Agus ba mhian leis é chur chun báis, ach bhí eagla na ndaoine air, óir do thuigeadar gur bh’fháidh Eóin Baiste. Ach lá beirthe Héróid dhein inghean Héródias rinnce ’n-a láthair, rinnce a thaithn le Héród. Mar gheall air sin do dhearbhuigh sé go dtabharfadh sé dhi pé rud d’iarrfadh sí air. Dubhairt sise, óir do chuir a máthair suas chuige í: Tabhair dhom ar mhéis ceann Eóin Baiste. Tháinig buairt ar an rí; ach mar gheall ar an ndearbhú, agus mar gheall ar an gcuideachtain a bhí láithreach, d’órduigh sé é thabhairt di. Agus chuir sé daoine uaidh agus bhain sé an ceann d’Eóin sa phríosún. Agus do tugadh a cheann i láthair, ar mhéis; agus do tugadh do’n cailín é, agus do rug sise ag triall ar a máthair é. Agus tháinig a dheisgiobuil agus do rugadar leó a chorp, agus d’adhlacadar é; agus thánadar agus d’innseadar é d’Íosa.
Agus nuair airigh Íosa é, d’imthigh sé ó’n áit sin, i luing bhig, isteach i bhfásach uaigneach; agus nuair a dh’airigh na daoine san, do leanadar é ’n-a gcuis as na catharachaibh.
Agus tháinig sé amach agus chonaic sé an tsluagh mhór, agus tháinig truagh aige dhóibh, agus do leighis sé na daoine gan sláinte a bhí ortha. Agus nuair a tháinig an tráthnóna tháinig a dheisgiobuil chuige, agus dubhradar: Fásach iseadh an áit seo, agus tá an aimsir imthighthe. Leig uait na daoine, go dtéighid siad isteach ins na sráidibh agus go gceannaighid siad bia dhóibh féin. Agus dubhairt Íosa leó: Ní gádh dhóibh imtheacht; Tugaidh-se rud le n-ithe dhóibh. Agus d’fhreagradar é: Ní’l anso againn ach chúig bhulóga agus dhá iasg. Agus dubhairt sé: Tugaidh chúgham anso iad san. Agus dubhairt sé leis na daoine suidhe ar an bhféar; agus thóg sé na chúig bhulóga agus an dá iasg, agus d’fhéach sé suas chun neimhe agus bheannuigh sé iad, agus bhris sé iad, agus thug sé dos na deisgiobuil iad, agus thugadar-san dos na sluaightibh iad; Agus d’itheadar go léir, agus bhí a ndóithin acu. Agus do tógadh an fuighleach, dhá chiseán déag lán d’arán bhriste. Agus isé méid daoine a dh’ith bia ann, chúig mhíle fear, gan bac do mhnáibh agus do mhion-daoine.
Agus láithreach ’n-a dhiaidh san do chuir Íosa dh’fhiachaibh ar a dheisgiobulaibh dul ar bórd na luinge bige agus dul roimis féin go dtí an taobh thall de’n uisge, chun go gcuirfeadh sé na daoine chun siúbhail. Agus chuir sé uaidh na daoine, agus d’imthigh sé an cnoc suas i n-a aonar chun úrnuighthe dhéanamh. Agus tháinig an tráthnóna, agus bhí sé ann i n-a aonar. Ach bhí an long bheag i lár na faraige d’á cáible ag na tonnaibh, mar bhí an ghaoth ’n-a coinnibh. Agus sa cheathramhadh faire de’n oidhche tháinig sé g triall ortha agus é ag siúbhal ar an bhfaraige. Agus nuair a chonacadar é ag siúbhal ar an bhfaraige, tháinig sgannra ortha. Samhail iseadh é, ar siad; agus bhíodar ag sgreadaigh le sgannra. Agus do labhair Íosa leó láithreach: Glacaidh misneach, ar seisean: Is mise atá ann. Ná bíodh eagla oraibh. Agus d’fhreagair Peadar: A Thighearna, ar seisean: má’s tusa atá ann, órduigh dómh-sa teacht ag triall ort ar bhárr an uisge. Agus dubhairt seisean: Tar chúgham. Agus tháinig Peadar anuas as an luing, agus bhí sé ag siúbhal ar bárr uisge, ag teacht chun Íosa. Ach chonaic sé an ghaoth láidir agus tháinig eagal air; agus nuair a thusnuigh sé ar dhul fé uisge do liúigh sé: A Thíghearna, ar seisean: saor mé. Agus do shín Íosa a lámh, agus do rug sé láithreach air, agus dubhairt sé: Ó a fhir gan puínn creidimh, cad chuige dhuit mearbhall a theacht ort? Agus nuair a thánadar ar an luing do stad an ghaoth. Agus tháinig na daoine a bhí ar an luing agus d’adhradar é, agus dubhradar, Is tu Mac Dé go fíor.
Agus chuadar treasna na faraige, agus thánadar isteach i dtír Genésaret. Agus nuair a dh’aithin muintir na h-áite sin é, chuireadar teachtairí tríd an ndúthaigh, agus thugadar ag triall air na daoine go léir a bhí as a sláinte; Agus d’iarradar air leigint dóibh baint amháin le fabhra a bhrait; agus an méid a bhain, do slánuigheadh iad.

October 23, 2009

Maitiú 13

Filed under: An Soisgéal do réir Mhaitiú — admin @ 8:26 pm

CAIBIDIOL 13.

Parabal churadóra an chogail, agus parabal an tsílmhustáird, 7rl.

Sa lá san chuaidh Íosa amach as an dtigh, agus bhí sé n-a shuidhe ar bruach na faraige. Agus do chruinnigh sluaighte móra, i dtreó go ndeaghaidh sé ar bórd na luinge bige agus gur shuidh sé inti, agus gur sheasaimh an tsluagh go léir ar an dtráigh. Agus do dhein sé a lán cainte leó i bhfuirm soluídí, agus dubhairt sé: Féach, do chuaidh síoladóir amach ag cur síl. Agus nuair a bhí sé ag cur an tsíl do thuit cuid acu i n-aice an bhóthair; agus tháinig éanlaithe an aeir agus d’itheadar iad. Agus do thuit cuid eile acu i n-áit i n-a raibh clocha agus ithir shuarach; agus d’fhásadar go luath, toisg gan doimhneas ithreach a bheith acu. Agus d’eirigh an ghrian agus do ghoill an teas ortha; agus toisg gan an phréamh a bheith acu d’fheóchadar. Agus do thuit cuid eile acu ameasg na sgeach; agus d’fhás na sgeacha agus mhúchadar iad. Thuit cuid eile acu, ámhthach, ar thalamh fhóghanta; agus thugadar toradh, cuid acu fó chéad, cuid acu fó thrí fichid, cuid acu fó thríochad. An t-é go bhfuil cluasa air chun éisteachta, éisteadh sé.
Agus tháinig na deisgiobuil chuige agus dubhradar: Cad fá gur i soluídíbh a labhrann tú leó? Agus d’fhreagair sé agus dubhairt: Mar do tugadh daoibh-se eólus do chur ar rú ndiamhraibh rígheachta na bhflathas; do’n chuid eile, ámhthach, níor tugadh san. Óir an t-é go bhfuil aige tabharfar dó, agus beidh flúirse aige; agus an t-é ná fuil aige tógfar uaidh a bhfuil aige. Labhraim leó i soluídíbh mar tá radharc acu agus ní fheicid siad, agus tá éisteacht acu agus ní chloisid siad, ná ní thuigid siad. Agus cómhlíontar ionta targaireacht Isáiais, mar a ndeir sé: Le cloisint cloisfidh sibh agus ní thuigfidh sibh, agus ag féachaint chífidh sibh agus ní fheicfidh sibh. Óir tá croidhe an phobuil seo tromaídhe, agus le n-a gcluasaibh cloisid siad go bodhar, agus tá a súile dúnta acu; le h-eagla, luath ná mall, go bhfeicfidís le n-a súilibh, agus go gcloisfidís le n-a gcluasaibh, agus go dtuigfidís i n-a gcroidhe, agus go n-iompóchaidís agus go slánóchainn iad. Ach is aoibhinn d’bhúr shúilibh-se, óir chíd; agus d’bhúr gcluasaibh, óir cloisid. Óir go deimhin adeirim libh gur ’mó fáidh agus fíoraon gur mhian leó na neithe a dh’fheisgint a chíonn sibh-se, agus ní fheacadar iad; agus na neithe do chlos a chloiseann sibh-se agus níor chloiseadar iad. Éistidh-se anois le soluíd an tsíoladóra.
Gach duine a chloiseann briathar na rígheachta agus ná tuigeann é, tagann an droch-spioraid agus tógann sé an síol a cuireadh ’n-a chroidhe sin. Siné an síol a cuireadh i n-aice an bhóthair. An t-é a ghlac an síol mar a raibh na clocha, siné an t-é a chloiseann an briathar agus do ghlacann láithreach é le h-áthas; Ach ní’l an phréamh aige; ní leanann sé ach tamall; agus nuair a thagann an trioblóid agus an ghéarleanmhaint mar gheall ar an mbriathar, glacann sé sgannal. Agus an t-é a ghlac an síol ins na sgeachaibh, siné an t-é a chloiseann an briathar, agus go ndeineann cúram an tsaoghail seo agus mealladh saidhbhris an briathar do mhúchadh, agus bíonn sé gan toradh. Ach an t-é a ghlac an síol isteach sa talamh fóghanta, siné an t-é a chloiseann an briathar agus do thuigeann é, agus a thugann toradh uaidh, agus tugann sé cuid de’n toradh fó chéad, agus cuid eile dhe fó thrí fichid, agus cuid eile dhe fó thríochad.
Thug sé soluíd eile dhóibh, agus dubhairt sé: Is cosmhail rígheacht na bhflathas le duine a chuir síol fóghanta ’n-a chuid tailimh; Ach nuair a bhí na daoine ’n-a gcodladh tháinig an namhaid agus do chuir sé cogal i lár na cruithneachtan, agus d’imthigh sé. Agus nuair a bhí an geamhar ag fás, agus an toradh ag teacht, do chonacthas an cogal leis. Ansan tháinig na seirbhísigh chun fir na tighe, agus dubhradar leis: A Thighearna, nách síol fóghanta a chuiris ad’ chuid tailimh? Cá bhfuair sé an cogal mar sin? Agus dubhairt sé leó: Namhaid a dhein an nídh sin. Agus dubhairt na seirbhísigh leis: An toil leat sinn do dhul agus an cogal a bhaint? Agus dubhairt sé: Ní toil; le h-eagla, ag stathadh an chogail daoibh, go stathfadh sibh an chruithneacht leis. Leigtear dóibh araon fás go dtagaidh an fóghmhar, agus nuair a thiocfaidh an fóghmhar déarfad leis na buanaidhthibh: Bailighidh an cogal ar dtúis, agus ceangalaidh é ’n-a phunanaibh le dóghadh, ach deinidh an cruithneacht do bhailiú isteach am’ sgioból.
Agus chuir sé soluíd eile os a gcómhair, agus dubhairt sé: Is cosmhail rígheacht na bhflathas le gráinne de shíol mustáird a thóg duin le cur ’na gharaidhe. Ní’l síol ar bith is lúgha ’ná é; ach nuair fhásann sé ní’l glasra ar bith is mó ’ná é, agus deineann crann de, i dtreó go dtagaid éanlaithe an aéir agus go neaduighid siad ’n-a ghéagaibh.
Do labhair sé soluíd eile leó: Is cosmhail rígheacht na bhflathas leis an ngiost a ghlac an bhean agus a chuir sí i bhflolach i dtrí tómhasaibh plúir, go dtí gur ghlac an plúr go léir an giost.
Do labhair Íosa na neithe seo go léir leis na daoine i bhfuirm soluídí; agus níor labhair sé leó ach i soluídíbh; Ionus go gcómhlíonfaí an focal a labhair an fáidh nuair adubhairt sé: Osgalóchad mo bhéal i soluídíbh; nochtfad neithe atá foluighthe ó chruithniú an domhain.
Ansan do chuir sé chun siubhail an pobul, agus tháinig sé isteach sa tigh, agus tháinig a dheisgiobuil chuige agus dubhradar: Mínigh dúinn soluíd an chogail sa ghort. Agus d’fhreagair sé agus dubhairt: Isé Mac an Duine a chuireann an síol fóghanta. Agus isé an domhan an gort. Agus clann na rígheachta, siniad an síol fóghanta. Agus clann an uilc, siniad an cogal. Agus an namhaid a chuir an cogal, siné an diabhal. Agus isé deire an tsaoghail an fóghmhar; agus isiad na h-aingil na buanaidhthe. D’á bhrígh sin, mar a bailightear an cogal agus a dóightear é sa teine, sin mar a bheidh i ndeire an tsaoghail. Chuirfidh Mac an Duine a aingil amach agus baileóchaid siad as a rígheacht gach sgannal agus lucht déanta an uilc. Agus cuirfid siad sa lasair theine iad. Beidh sa n-áit sin gol agus díosgán fiacal. Ansan beid na fíoraoin ag taithneamh ar nós na gréine i rígheacht a n-Athar. An t-é go bhfuil cluasa air chun éisteachta, éisteadh sé.
Is cosmhail rígheacht na bhflathas le stór a bheadh i bhfolach i bpáirc; agus an t-é a gheibheann sé coimeádann sé rún air, agus tré mhéid a áthais imthigheann sé agus díolann sé amach a chuid go léir, agus ceannuigheann sé an pháirc sin.
Agus airís, is cosmhail rígheacht na bhflathas le ceannaidhe a bheadh ag lorg péarlaí fóghanta. Agus nuair a fuair sé aon phéarla amháin ana-luachmhar, do dhíol sé a raibh aige, agus do cheannaigh sé an péarla san. Airís, is cosmhail rígheacht na bhflathas le líon a curfaí amach sa bhfaraige, agus do bhaileóch’ an uile shaghas éisg; Agus nuair a bhí sé lán, gur taraingeadh amach é, agus gur shuidh na daoine ar an dtráigh, agus gur thógadar na h-iasga maithe i n-árthaíbh agus gur chaitheadar amach na droch-iasga. Sin mar a bheidh i ndeire an tsaoghail. Imtheóchaid na h-aingil amach, agus deighilfid siad na droch-dhaoine a’ lár na bhfíoraon. Agus cuirfid siad sa lasair theine iad. Beidh gol agus díosgán fiacal sa n-áit sin.
Ar thuigeabhair na neithe sin go léir? Do thuigeamair, ar siad. Dubhairt sé leó: D’á bhrígh sin, gach sgríbhneóir atá muínte i dtaobh rígheachta na bhflathas, is cosmhail é le fear tighe a thugann amach as a stór neithe nua agus sean-neithe.
Agus do thárla, nuair a bhí na solíúidí sin críochnuighthe ag Íosa, gur fhág sé an áit sin. Agus tháinig sé isteach ’n-a dhúthaigh féin, agus bhí sé ag múineadh na ndaoine ins na sinagógaibh, i dtreó go mbíodh iongnadh ortha, gaus go ndeiridís: Cá bhfuair sé seo an eagna so, agus na cómhachta? Nách é seo mac an cheardaidhe? Nách ar a mháthair a tugtar Muire, agus ar a bhráithribh Séamus agus Ióseph agus Símón agus Iúdás? Agus ná fuil a shiúracha go léir i n-ár measg? Agus cá bhuair sé sin na neithe seo go léir? Agus do ghlacadar sgannal d’á dhruim. Dubhairt Íosa leó, ámhthach: Ní’l fáidh gan onóir ach ’n-a dhúthaigh féin agus ’n-a theaghlach féin. Agus níor dhein sé puínn mírbhuiltí sa n-áit sin, mar gheall ar dhíthchreideamh na ndaoine sin.

October 17, 2009

Réimniughadh an bhriathair – verb conjugation

Filed under: Contents — admin @ 2:44 am

I am aiming to upload full conjugations of around 25 verbs that cover all the regular and irregular types. Click on the desired verb in the right-hand bar to see progress so far.

October 13, 2009

Maitiú 12

Filed under: An Soisgéal do réir Mhaitiú — admin @ 12:48 pm

CAIBIDIOL 12.

Daille na bhFairisíneach dá cáineadh ag Críost, 7 iad á mbréagnú aige nuair a deirid siad gur le cómhacht Shátain a dheineann sé na mírbhuiltí.

Sa n-am san do ghluais Íosa tré ghortaibh arbhair, lá na sabbóide; agus bhí ocras ar a dheisgiobuil, agus chromadar ar na diasaibh do stathadh agus d’ithe. Agus chonaic na Fairisínigh iad, agus dubhradar: Féach, táid do dheisgiobuil ag déanamh ruda nach dleaghthach a dhéanamh lá na sabbóide. Ach dubhairt seisean leó: An amhlaidh nár léigheabhair cad a dhein Dáibhid nuair a bhí ocras air féin agus ar an muintir a bhí i n-aonfheacht leis? Conus mar a chuaidh sé isteach i dtigh Dé agus d’ith sé na bulóga a bhí curtha i láthair Dé, nídh nár cheaduighthe dhó a dh’ithe, ná do’n mhuintir a bhí le n-a chois, ná d’aoinne ach dos na sagairt amháin? Nó an amhlaidh nár léigheabhair sa dlígh conus mar a dheinid na sagairt sa teampall an tsabbóid do bhriseadh agus ná deinid siad peacadh? Ach deirim-se libh go bhfuil anso aon is mó ’ná an teampall. Ach dá dtuigeadh sibh cad é an nídh, Trócaire is áil liom, agus ní h-ídhbirt, ní dhaorfadh sibh choídhche na neamhchiontacha. Óir isé Tíghearna na sabbóide féin Mac an Duine.
Ansan d’fhág sé an áit sin, agus tháinig sé isteach i n-a sinagóig chúcha. Agus féach, bhí duine ann agus a lámh gan tapadh. Agus d’fhiafraigheadar de, An dleaghthach leigheas a dhéanamh sa tsabbóid? ionus go bhféadfaidís rud a chur ’n-a leith. Agus dubhairt seisean leo: Cé h-é an duine agaibh-se, dá mbeadh aon chaora amháin aige, agus go dtuitfeadh sí i bpoll lá sabbóide, ná béarfadh uirthi agus í tharang amach? Nách mó le rádh go mór duine ’ná caora? D’á bhrígh sin is dleaghthach tairbhe dhéanamh sa tsabbóid. Ansan dubhairt sé leis an nduine: Sín amach do lámh. Agus do shín; agus bhí sí chómh slán leis an láimh eile.
D’imthigh na Fairisínigh amach, ámhthach, agus chuadar i gcómhairle ’n-a choinnibh chun a mhairbhthe. Ach bhí a fhios san ag Íosa, agus d’imthigh sé ar an áit sin; agus do lean mórán daoine é, agus do leighis sé iad go léir. Agus d’órduigh sé dhóibh gan é chur i n-iúil. Ionus go gcómhlíonfaí an nídh adubhradh tré Isáias fáidh mar a ndeir sé: Féach, mo sheirbhíseach, an t-é a thoghas, an t-é is ionmhuin liom, an t-é ar a bhfuil greann ó m’anam. Cuirfead mo spioraid air, agus fógróchaidh sé breitheamhantas dos na geintibh. Ní dhéanfaidh sé aighneas, agus ní dhéanfaidh sé collóid; agus ní cloisfar a ghuth ins na sráidibh. Ní bhrisfidh sé an cuaile leóinte, agus ní mhúchfaidh sé an líon go bhfuil an deatach as, go dtí go gcuirfidh sé amach breitheamhanas chun buaidhte. Agus is as a ainim a bheidh a mainighin ag na geintibh.
Ansan do tugadh chuige duine go raibh deamhan ann, agus bhí sé dall agus balbh; agus do leighis sé é, i dtreó go raibh radharc agus urlabhra aige. Agus tháinig uathbhás ar na sluaightibh go léir, agus deiridís: An féidir gur b’é seo mac Dáibhid? D’airigh na Fairisínigh an caint sin, agus dubhradar: Ní chuireann sé seo na deamhain amach ach le cómhacht Bheelsebub, rí na ndeamhan. Ach do chonaic Íosa a smuínte, agus dubhairt sé leó: Gach rígheacht a bheidh deighilte ’n-a choinnibh féin déanfaidh fásach de; agus gach cathair, nó gach teighleach, a bheidh deighilte i gcoinnibh a chéile, ní sheasóchaidh sé; Agus má ’sé Sátan a chuireann amach Sátan, siné deighilte ’n-a choinnibh féin é; agus d’á bhrígh sin conus a sheasóchaidh a rígheacht? Agus má’s le cómhacht Bheelsebub a chuirim-se amach na deamhain, cad leis go gcuirid bhúr gclann féin amach iad? Fágaim, d’á bhrígh sin, fé bhreith bhur gclainne féin sibh. Ach má’s le Spioraid Dé a chuirim-se na deamhain amach, siné rígheacht Dé tagaithe i nbhúr measg. Nó conus is féidir do dhuine dul isteach i dtigh an fhir láidir agus a sheóide dh’fhuadach, mura ndeinidh sé an fear láidir do cheangal ar dtúis? Ansan sgartálfaidh sé a thigh. An t-é ná fuil liom, tá sé am’ aghaidh; agus an t-é ná cnuasaigheann am’ theannta, sgaipeann sé.
Deirim libh, d’á bhrígh sin: Maithfar do dhaoine gach peacadh agus gach diamhasla, ach diamhasla i n-aghaidh an Spioraid ní maithfar do dhaoine é. Agus an t-é a déarfaidh focal i n-aghaidh Mhic an Duine, maithfar dó é; ach an t-é a déarfaidh i n-aghaidh an Spioraid Naoimh é, ní maithfar dó é, ar an saoghal so ná ar an saoghal atá le teacht.
Deinidh an crann a bheith go maith agus a thoradh fóghanta air; nó deinidh an crann go h-olc agus an toradh go h-olc air; óir is as a thoradh do h-aithnightear an crann. A shliocht na naithreach nimhe, conus is féidir daoíbh-se neithe fóghanta do labhairt agus sibh go h-olc? óir is a’ líonmhaireacht an chroidhe do labhrann an béal. Tugann an fear fóghanta neithe fóghanta uaidh, amach a’ stór fóghanta; agus tugann an droch-dhuine droch-neithe uaidh amach a’ droch-stór. Agus deirim libh, an uile fhocal díomhaoin d’á labhraid daoine, do dtabharfaid siad cúntas ann lá an breitheamhantais. Óir is de bhárr do bhréithre féin a saorfar thu, agus is de bhárr do bhreithre féin a daorfar thu.
Ansan d’fhreagair cuid des na Sgríbhneóiríbh agus des na Fairisínigh agus dubhradar: A Mháighistir, is mian linn cómhartha dh’fheisgint uait. Agus d’fhreagair sé iad: Tá droch-shliocht adhaltranach ag lorg cómhartha; agus ní tabharfar de chómhartha dhóibh ach cómhartha Iónais an fáidh. Óir, fé mar a bhí Iónas trí lá agus trí oidhche i mbolg an mhíolmhóir, beidh Mac an Duine trí lá agus trí oidhche i gcroidhe na talmhan. Eireóchaid muintir Ninebhe i mbreitheamhantas i n-aghaidh an tsleachta so, agus daorfaid said iad; óir do dheineadar-san aithrighe nuair a theagaisg Iónas iad. Agus féach duine is mó ’ná Iónas anso. Eireóchaidh banríghin na tíre theas i mbreitheamhantas i n-aghaidh an tsleachta so, agus daorfaidh sí iad; óir do tháinig sí ó imeall an tsaoghail chun éisteacht le h-eagna Shalomóin. Agus féach duine is mó ’na Salomón anso.
Agus nuair a théigheann an spioraid neamhghlan amach as an nduine, siúbhlann sé tré áiteana feóchta ag lorg suaimhnis, agus ní fhaghann sé é. Agus deir sé, Raghad tar n-ais chun mo thighe féin as a dtánag amach. Agus tagann sé agus gheibheann sé an tigh folamh agus é sguabtha, glan, órnáideach. Ansan imthigheann sé, agus tugann sé leis seacht spioraidí eile is measa ’ná é féin, agus téighid siad isteach, agus cómhnuighid siad sa tigh sin. Agus is measa an cor atá ar an nduine sin sa deire ’ná mar a bhí ar dtúis air. Sin mar a bheidh an sgéal ag an sliocht so atá chómh fíor-olc.
An fhaid a bhí sé ag caint leis an bpobul, tháinig a mháthair agus a bhráithre amuigh agus iad a d’iarraidh labhairt leis. Agus dubhairt duine leis, Féach, tá do mháthair agus do bhráithre amuigh, agus iad a d’iarraidh labhartha leat. Ach d’fhreagair seisean agus dubhairt: Cia h-í mo mháthair, agus cé h-iad mo bhráithre? Agus do shín sé a lámh chun a dheisgiobul agus dubhairt sé: Féach, siniad mo mháthair-se agus mo bhráithre. Óir pé duine a dhéanfaidh toil m’Athar-sa ins na flathais, siné is bráthair agus siúr agus máthair agam-sa.

October 11, 2009

Maitiú 11

Filed under: An Soisgéal do réir Mhaitiú — admin @ 9:13 pm

CAIBIDIOL 11.

A dheisgiobuil ag Eóin dhá gcur ag triall ar Chríost. Na Iúdaigh dh’á gcáineadh ag Críost mar gheall ar ná creidfidís, agus na daoine d’á nglaodhach chuige a mhothuighid ualaí troma bheith ortha.

Agus do thárla, nuair a bhí na h-órduighthe tabhartha ag Íosa d’á dháréag deisgiobul, gur imthigh sé as an áit sin chun teagasg agus craobhsgaoileadh dhéanamh i n-a mbailtibh-sin.
Agus nuair a dh’airigh Eóin, agus é gabhtha, oibreacha Chríost, chuir sé beirt d’á dheisgiobulaibh féin ag triall air, agus dubhairt sé leis: An tusa an t-é atá le teacht, nó an bhfuil orainn feitheamh le duine eile? Agus dubhairt Íosa leó ’ghá bhfreagradh: Imthíghidh agus ínnsidh d’Eóin na neithe d’aireabhair agus do chonacabhair; Tá radharc ag daill; tá siúbhal ag bacaigh; glantar na lobhair; tá éisteacht ag daoine a bhí bodhar; Eirighid na mairbh; Tá an Soisgéal d’á theagasg dos na bochtaibh. Agus is aoibhinn do’n t-é ná glacfaidh sganall umam-sa.
Agus nuair a bhí an bheirt imthighthe do chrom Íosa ar labhairt leis na daoine i dtaobh Eóin: Cad a bhí uaibh le feisgint nuair a thánabhair amach sa bhfásach? Slat d’á suathadh le gaoith? Ach cad a bhí uaibh le feisgint nuair a thánabhair amach? Fear i n-éadaighibh míne? Féach, i dtighthibh na rí atá lucht an éadaigh mhín. Ach cad a bhí uaibh le feisgint nuair a thánabhair amach? Fáidh, an eadh? Ach deirim-sé libh gur duine é is mó ’ná fáidh. Óir is air seo atá sgríobhtha: Féach, táim-se ag cur m’aingil rómhat amach cun na slíghe d’ollamhú rómhat. Go deimhin adeirim libh, níor eirigh, ar ar rugadh ó mhnáibh, duine ba mhó ’ná Eóin Baiste; ach an t-é is lúgha i rígheacht na bhflathas is mó é ’ná eisean. Ach ó aimsir Eóin Baiste go dtí anois tá éigean ’á dhéanamh ar rígheacht na bhflathas, agus isiad lucht an éigin a bheireann leó é. Óir targaireacht iseadh dhein na fáidhe go léir agus an dlígh, go dtí Eóin. Agus má’s áil libh a ghlacadh, isé Elias é atá le teacht. An t-é ar a bhfuil cluasa chun éisteachta, éisteadh sé.
Ach cé leis go samhlóchad an tsliocht so? Is cosmhail iad le h-aos óg ’n-a suidhe ar an macha ag glaodhach ar a gcomrádaithibh: Agus ’ghá rádh: Dheineamair ceól daoibh ar phíbibh, agus níor dheineabhair rinnce; do chaoineamair, agus níor dheineabhair gol. Óir do tháinig Eóin gan ithe gan ól, agus deirid siad: Tá deamhan ann. Tháinig Mac an Duine ag ithe agus ag ól, agus deirid siad: Féach, an duine craosach agus an fear fíona dh’ól, cara na bpuibliocánach agus na bpeacach. Agus gheibheann an eagna a ceart ó n-a clainn féin.
Ansan do chrom sé ar mhilleán do chur ar na cathrachaibh ionar h-oibrígheadh an chuid ba mhó d’á chómhachtaibh, toisg nár dheineadar aithrighe: Mairg duit, a Chorosain! Mairg duit, a Bhetsáida! óir dá ndeintí i dTuíre agus i Sídón na fearta atá déanta ionaibh-se, is fadó a dhéanfaidís aithrighe fé éadach gharbh agus fé luaithrigh. Ach deirim libh, ámhthach, Beidh an sgéal níós saoire lá an bhreitheamhantais ag Tuíre agus ag Sídón ’ná agaibh-se. Agus tusa, a Chapharnaum, an suas go flathas Dé a tógfar thú? Síos go h-ifreann iseadh a churfar thú; óir dá mba i Sodomaibh a déanfaí na fearta a deineadh ionat-sa, b’fhéidir go mbeadh an chathair sin ann go dtí an lá so. Ach deirim libh, ámhthach, go mbeidh an sgéal níor saoire lá an bhreitheamhantais ag muintir Shodom ’ná agat-sa. Sa n-am san d’fhreagair Íosa agus dubhairt: Admhuighim ad’ láthair-se, a Athair, a Thighearna neimhe agus talmhan, mar gur cheilis na neithe seo ar lucht eagna agus tuisgiona, agus gur nochtais iad do naoidheanaibh. Iseadh, a Athair; óir sin mar a bhí taithneamhach ad’ láthair-se. Tá gach uile nídh tabhartha dhómh-sa ag m’Athair. Agus ní’l aithne ag aoinne ar an Mac ach ag an Athair; ná ar an Athair ach ag an Mac, agus ag an t-é gur toil leis an Mac a dh’foillsiú dhó. Tagaidh go léir ag triall orm-sa, gach duine go bhfuil cruadhtan agus tromualach air, agus tabharfad-sa faoiseamh oraibh. Tógaidh mo chuing-se oraibh, agus foghlumaidh uaim, óir táim ceannsa agus úmhal ó chroidhe; agus gheóbhaidh sibh suaimhneas d’bhúr gcroidhthibh. Óir is suairc mo chuing-se agus is éadtrom m’ualach.

Séadna 1

Filed under: Séadna — admin @ 1:07 am

CAIBIDIOL A H-AON
(more…)

The works of Pádraig Ua Duinnín

Filed under: Contents — admin @ 12:53 am

I aim to publish transcriptions of some of the works of Pádraig Ua Duinnín. I am starting today with chapter one of his Saoghal i nÉirinn, his refutation of the notion that life was better outside Ireland. It is transcribed in the seana-chlódh, and formatted as an embedded PDF (Shockwave plug-in required). Click on the appropriate category in the bar on the right-hand side of the screen to see all.

Mo Sgéal Féin: the autobiography of Peadar Ua Laoghaire

Filed under: Contents — admin @ 12:36 am

I have now fully transcribed the original text of Mo Sgéal Féin, the autobiography of Peadar Ua Laoghaire, who is attributed with the leading role in the Gaelic Revival of the early 20th century. He lived through the Irish Famine and witnessed the decline of Irish. He was a native speaker of and authority on Cork Irish, which he recommended as a standard language for the Irish nation as a whole.

October 10, 2009

Saoghal i nÉirinn

Filed under: Pádraig Ua Duinnín — admin @ 10:32 pm

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