McPaper an rants
Fock all. I might just clean up my usual ranting and send in a letter to the Observer, that is how fucking enraged this shite has made me. Me, the calm and contained Robinson. Sorry, but the shite in question is something which should not even be up for debate--the GLBQT community, and whether or not they should be considered under the campus bill of rights (as it were)--of course they should, everyone should--regardless of who they like or do not like to fuck, grope. or ogle in their spare time. I spit on anyone (and if they protest this spitting I’ll do more than that) who is against any sexual preference for any reason. Especially, religion--and the ‘well, the Church is okay with homosexuality, just not with homosexual sex.’ My response to this will involve a pineapple and bending the pope over an altar (don’t worry, I’ll use only all natural pineapples). Using a two thousand year old cultural flinch towards almost every kind of sex is not okay (nor is using any flinch towards anything--if something does not strike your fancy, then don’t do it yourself, but damned well don’t stop others from doing it (as long as everything is consensual, of course)). More on this later, though.
To get from the ‘Brian Boru’ entry on Wikipedia to ‘Sexual Intercourse’ took me three clicks. (going from Dublin, to Stag Party, to Lap Dance--and…done.)
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So Holy Shit. Sorry, some explanation is needed here: after three years of it being missing, presumed vanished or with Maurice (not that Mr. Gaska would steal it out of spite, just out of the amusement of such a deed, which, to be fair, would make for some hilarious photographs and I’d nae begrudge him that), a very nice Russian hat (a graduation present from Ken) has finally materialized (well, not exactly materialized, but appeared in a photograph mentioning that it is in fact my hat). This totally makes the crushing stress of writing a paper for a professor that I really respect (and more importantly, like, and want to impress) vanish somewhat--weird how the simplest things can do that…or the exact opposite (as today, when for a while there I assumed I’d lost a very nice blue shemagh that I picked up when thrifting with my Lover a few weeks ago--turned out I had not left it just sitting anywhere--it was in the bottom of my backpack, for reasons I’ve yet to figure out or honestly investigate in any fashion. Now, though, I need to get to writing--so that I can email a copy to the Professor (not the professor for this course, but rather my father, who is actually one hell of an editor--see, everyone has their uses, even family) so that he can drop me a proof-read copy to be read when I wake up (probably, as is SOP with paper-days, at the unbefuckinglievably early hour of 8:30 (given that I’ll crash around 2:30-4))) and then sleep for a little while. Aside from writing this essay (which I’ll post when finished, of course), I think that I’ve really been slacking off with writing that I should be doing for fun (well, perhaps fun is the wrong word--leisure, relaxation, these might be better words than fun)--I’m not exactly sure why, but along with losing the gut and excess fat I acquired over the last winter/summer, it is one of my goals (for the academic year of sorts (putting that I will be graduating out of the equation for the nonce)--sorry, that goal is one of writing at least a page of non-academic matter a day. Having done that for a month a plan to write two pages a day for the next month (and three for the third, five for the fourth, seven, increasing by prime numbers until I get to a shitload of pages by the end of the year)--part of this will be an attempt, attempt I say, to work on my use of description--which, well, is something I tend to slouch on, something I really should fucking perfect if I want to (and I do, damnit) be a published and reasonably successful writer. And now for some reason I am drawn back to a dream I had a very long time ago (a year or more, an epoch in fruit-fly time) of being on a Pacific island (a well-developed one due to the trees and very nicely manicured mountain-side terraced farms with smudge pots and all telling me that we must be somewhere that has to deal with a bit of frost on occasion) there are houses--nothing to shout about really, all nicely painted, the kind one would expect to see in any beach town (except, I see no beaches, but then the dream is mostly in fragments and weird bits of memory that might qualify as documentaries of a sort)…and there is a storm coming, a typhoon of unimaginably raw power (the kind only…well…nature and a few mad scientists could come up with)…I watch in a rather detached manner as the houses on the mountainside (I’m in one of them, but it stays relatively unaffected by the tempest whipping around outside) are rendered to kindling by the storm, beautiful palm trees and loads of greenery are flying everywhere, the smudge pots, now shattered and spread amongst orchards of an unidentifiable fruit, give off more black smoke mixed with a vaguely fruity smell, but burned, mostly unripe fruit). Everything outside the rain soaked windows has been damaged by the wind and torrents, the sea is still in fury though the sky has returned to a steel-grey calm. I woke from this dream to find Alex curled next to me, and as such, promptly forgot the dream for a year so and went back to (if memory serves) quite the blissful sleep with my lover my arms for most of the morning. One of these days I’m going to move out of the Demesne and buy a place of my own, that I vow--it won’t be much, sure, but damn all it will be mine and there will be a massive bookshelf (though not something that could fall on me, I’ve got a bit of a Borgesian phobia of being crushed by a giant bookshelf) a very nice bed (properly cared for so it does not squeak), perhaps chairs (maybe just nice pillows on a shag carpet), and lamps, lamps everywhere (for some reason I mostly despise overhead lighting--especially florescent lights, they sap the soul from every room) and an animal of some sort (I’m thinking either a domesticated and house-broken llama or a very large dog). The walls will be festooned with maps, swords, and large brass hooks at above Robinson-head level (but within reach) for hats, and lower hooks for coats (the lower hooks will be slightly padded to account for Robinson’s tendency to walk into walls). In other news, I should get writing that paper now. Tah. I’ll post fragments and such later on (probably in something creatively called ‘fragments’ or some such). So…ciao.
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I realize only now that I left out one factor of the equation mentioned in the essay, that of allies....
oops...(I considered rectifying this by printing out a picture of Churchill, FDR, and Stalin hanging out at Yalta--with a caption saying 'yeah, Irish kings needed these guys if they wanted to become high king of Ireland (or, for that matter, using a picture of the Normandy landings or such), but decided against it...it was a close call though.)
Vikings. Bishops. And Dynasty.
What strategies and resources did an Irish king need to use to become a serious candidate for the high kingship of Ireland during the 11th and 12th centuries?
Until the rise of Brian Boru in the late 10th century, the high kingship of Ireland was passed between the northern and southern branches of the Uì Neill. Like the kingship itself, the high king was a largely ceremonial figure based at Tara. Theoretically this king held some sway over the lesser kings of Ireland, but in actuality he really did not have the wherewithal to exert his will over all Ireland. Under Brian Boru the high kingship became something which could be claimed not just by those of a certain clan, but by anyone with a sword and enough power to hold the throne. The difficulty, of course, was securing the right resources (both men and materiel were needed), and knowing when to make and break alliances.
Technically, any clan chief was in some respects considered a king of his people. That did not mean that all kings were considered equal--most had to pay tribute to a more powerful clan, and thus a more powerful king. With the emergence of Brian Boru and the ensuing Wars of the Great Dynasties, there came a new title in the world of Irish kingship: King of Ireland with Opposition. This title recognized that a ruler had conquered the majority of Ireland, but that he did not have the ties to the Uì Neill necessary to take on the old title of high king. The ‘with opposition’ part was also a nod to the fact that there were other contenders for the throne. Though there were always opportunities for advancement, if a dominant clan began to look like it was on its last legs, or even if it was just looking a shade pale, previously subservient men might start to pick away at the borders of a dominant clan’s lands, and eventually topple that clan altogether, forcing former rulers to flee their territories. Once a king had achieved local domination, however, he might have realized that he could continue to expand his territory if he played his cards right. But what were these cards?
An army. Allies. The Vikings. Strategic cities. Puppet kings and the Catholic Church.
Since the dawn of civilization to hold power one has usually needed some sort of armed force to defend and expand that power. In early medieval Ireland an army was often made up of two groups: clan members--all related in some way or another to the king leading the army, and thus all with some stake in victory; and mercenaries--especially Viking mercenaries. Vikings had the advantages of better weaponry, money, and the only real navy around. They also had a stake in the victory in that it was usually only after a victory that they were paid (though as is often the case with mercenaries, they might receive a better offer from their employer’s enemy and switch sides midway through a conflict.. Of course, this would leave their former employer in the lurch and often resulted in a future dislike or perhaps distrust of Vikings in general).
By the eleventh century, the Viking had been settling on the coast of Ireland for the better part of two hundred years. And in those two centuries they had become one of the resources that Irish clans could use in their struggles against one another. However, though they had in some senses become pawns of the Irish dynastic struggles, from time to time the Vikings would go on the warpath and reassert their control over certain key ports (such as Dublin). The Vikings posed a quandary for an aspirant to the high kingship of Ireland. On the one hand they could be unruly and untrustworthy fighters who might decide to assemble more Vikings and make a play for more territory. On the other hand, they were also skilled sailors and fighters with whom one could conquer a good part of Ireland. Viking crewed longboats could be used to travel up the River Shannon and enforce a king’s will on provinces upriver (such as Leinster and Connacht). Thus central and southern Irish kings in Munster and Mide regularly sent ships upriver to beat the living daylights out of the forces of Connacht and Leinster. The Vikings as a naval force, however, could not really be used to assail Ulster via the Shannon, as the river ended before it made it into the province, forcing any army that wanted to get at the formidable northern province to march there on foot.
But the Vikings were not just a naval power floating around in the Irish Sea and the mouth of the River Shannon to do the bidding of the most powerful kings in Ireland. They were also a formidable trading power, and thus a massive source of income. And, just as every other time in history, in medieval Ireland, wars and conquest required money, something which Viking trading cities possessed in abundance. This wealth made Dublin, Waterford, Wexford, Cork, and Limerick formidable assets and prizes worth fighting for. Of the Viking-associated cities, Dublin had the most money and Vikings at its command. Thus the king of Dublin was a powerful figure, one with whom the various Irish kings would have to deal--either by conquest (and replacement with a puppet king--often short-lived as the Viking inhabitants of the city had a tendency to rebel), or by treaties which would make the king of Dublin owe some tribute to a greater king.
A king could control Dublin and the Viking fleet it provided, and still find himself missing something. That something was usually the backing of the Catholic Church, usually in the form of a prominent bishop. Church influence made it possible for kings to circumvent the centuries old traditions binding high kingship. When Brian Boru campaigned in Ulster in 1005 he stopped by the Abbey of Armagh and made a sizeable donation. After this donation, the Annals of Ulster (written at the Abbey of Armagh, which also happened to be primatial see of Ireland) referred to Boru as Emperor of the Irish. This title gave Boru the recognition of the most organized body in early medieval Ireland and also dodged the question of whether or not he could truly be called a high king, as he was in no way related to the clans that had held the title for centuries. Boru’s descendents would go on to leave a lasting impression on Ireland and would play a major role in the dynastic wars of the 11th and 12th centuries, thanks in part to the token acknowledgment given to Boru (and his descendents later on) by the Church.
An example of a minor king’s rise to power would be that of Muirchertach Ua Briain. In 1075 he was installed as the king of Dublin by his father Toirdelbach Ua Briain. When his father died in 1086, Munster and Leinster was divided between Muirchertach, and his two brothers, Tadc and Diarmait--this division, of course, was a recipe for disaster. Tadc died a month later, and Muirchertach quickly seized his dead brother’s territory and managed to send Diarmait into exile after a brief struggle. Munster secured, Muirchertach had to contend with the forces of the north of Ireland and Dublin. To secure Dublin and Mide (the province that surrounded Dublin) Muirchertach Ua Briain hatched a new strategy: divide Mide into two provinces and appoint the kings of those provinces. And he did this, cutting the ancient kingdom into two parts (Mide and Westmeath). The division of Mide worked rather well for Muirchertach, as it both guaranteed the loyalty of the puppet kings (who had no claims to the provinces other than by his appointment) and also lessened the strategic importance of Mide. Muirchertach would later go on to ally with a Viking king, Magnus Bare Legs, and form an army composed of forces from all over the south of Ireland (Munster, Leinster, and Connacht) to harry the kingdom of Ulster in the north of the island. He then proclaimed himself as High King of Ireland. In making this claim he neglected to acknowledge Ulster, which, despite several campaigns, was never conquered. His rule over much of Ireland secure, Muirchertach presided over two synods aimed at reforming the Irish Church along Continental European lines. He handed the ancient capital of the Eoganacht, the city of Cashel, over to the bishop of Cashel--undermining his clan’s enemies and securing the Church’s friendship in one fell swoop. For all his territorial gains and successes, as Muirchertach aged his power began to weaken, and his kingdom was ripped apart by his opponents prior to his death in 1119.
So there were four main things needed that a small-time Irish king needed to make a play for the high kingship of Ireland during the 11th and 12th centuries--those were (1) Vikings, (2) the backing of the clergy (or at least of some of the clergy, the local abbot or bishop would often do just fine, but real contenders also had to have some sort of backing (especially in and around Ulster) from the bishop of Armagh), (3) puppet kings, and (4) allies both within and out of Ireland. A king, no-matter how powerful, could only get so far on his own. He needed a large network of supporters, both inside and out of his clan. This meant he had to make alliances--to promise people certain things (such as certain territories, marriage-alliances and the like), and then actually put paid to those promises.
To get from the ‘Brian Boru’ entry on Wikipedia to ‘Sexual Intercourse’ took me three clicks. (going from Dublin, to Stag Party, to Lap Dance--and…done.)
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So Holy Shit. Sorry, some explanation is needed here: after three years of it being missing, presumed vanished or with Maurice (not that Mr. Gaska would steal it out of spite, just out of the amusement of such a deed, which, to be fair, would make for some hilarious photographs and I’d nae begrudge him that), a very nice Russian hat (a graduation present from Ken) has finally materialized (well, not exactly materialized, but appeared in a photograph mentioning that it is in fact my hat). This totally makes the crushing stress of writing a paper for a professor that I really respect (and more importantly, like, and want to impress) vanish somewhat--weird how the simplest things can do that…or the exact opposite (as today, when for a while there I assumed I’d lost a very nice blue shemagh that I picked up when thrifting with my Lover a few weeks ago--turned out I had not left it just sitting anywhere--it was in the bottom of my backpack, for reasons I’ve yet to figure out or honestly investigate in any fashion. Now, though, I need to get to writing--so that I can email a copy to the Professor (not the professor for this course, but rather my father, who is actually one hell of an editor--see, everyone has their uses, even family) so that he can drop me a proof-read copy to be read when I wake up (probably, as is SOP with paper-days, at the unbefuckinglievably early hour of 8:30 (given that I’ll crash around 2:30-4))) and then sleep for a little while. Aside from writing this essay (which I’ll post when finished, of course), I think that I’ve really been slacking off with writing that I should be doing for fun (well, perhaps fun is the wrong word--leisure, relaxation, these might be better words than fun)--I’m not exactly sure why, but along with losing the gut and excess fat I acquired over the last winter/summer, it is one of my goals (for the academic year of sorts (putting that I will be graduating out of the equation for the nonce)--sorry, that goal is one of writing at least a page of non-academic matter a day. Having done that for a month a plan to write two pages a day for the next month (and three for the third, five for the fourth, seven, increasing by prime numbers until I get to a shitload of pages by the end of the year)--part of this will be an attempt, attempt I say, to work on my use of description--which, well, is something I tend to slouch on, something I really should fucking perfect if I want to (and I do, damnit) be a published and reasonably successful writer. And now for some reason I am drawn back to a dream I had a very long time ago (a year or more, an epoch in fruit-fly time) of being on a Pacific island (a well-developed one due to the trees and very nicely manicured mountain-side terraced farms with smudge pots and all telling me that we must be somewhere that has to deal with a bit of frost on occasion) there are houses--nothing to shout about really, all nicely painted, the kind one would expect to see in any beach town (except, I see no beaches, but then the dream is mostly in fragments and weird bits of memory that might qualify as documentaries of a sort)…and there is a storm coming, a typhoon of unimaginably raw power (the kind only…well…nature and a few mad scientists could come up with)…I watch in a rather detached manner as the houses on the mountainside (I’m in one of them, but it stays relatively unaffected by the tempest whipping around outside) are rendered to kindling by the storm, beautiful palm trees and loads of greenery are flying everywhere, the smudge pots, now shattered and spread amongst orchards of an unidentifiable fruit, give off more black smoke mixed with a vaguely fruity smell, but burned, mostly unripe fruit). Everything outside the rain soaked windows has been damaged by the wind and torrents, the sea is still in fury though the sky has returned to a steel-grey calm. I woke from this dream to find Alex curled next to me, and as such, promptly forgot the dream for a year so and went back to (if memory serves) quite the blissful sleep with my lover my arms for most of the morning. One of these days I’m going to move out of the Demesne and buy a place of my own, that I vow--it won’t be much, sure, but damn all it will be mine and there will be a massive bookshelf (though not something that could fall on me, I’ve got a bit of a Borgesian phobia of being crushed by a giant bookshelf) a very nice bed (properly cared for so it does not squeak), perhaps chairs (maybe just nice pillows on a shag carpet), and lamps, lamps everywhere (for some reason I mostly despise overhead lighting--especially florescent lights, they sap the soul from every room) and an animal of some sort (I’m thinking either a domesticated and house-broken llama or a very large dog). The walls will be festooned with maps, swords, and large brass hooks at above Robinson-head level (but within reach) for hats, and lower hooks for coats (the lower hooks will be slightly padded to account for Robinson’s tendency to walk into walls). In other news, I should get writing that paper now. Tah. I’ll post fragments and such later on (probably in something creatively called ‘fragments’ or some such). So…ciao.
---
I realize only now that I left out one factor of the equation mentioned in the essay, that of allies....
oops...(I considered rectifying this by printing out a picture of Churchill, FDR, and Stalin hanging out at Yalta--with a caption saying 'yeah, Irish kings needed these guys if they wanted to become high king of Ireland (or, for that matter, using a picture of the Normandy landings or such), but decided against it...it was a close call though.)
Vikings. Bishops. And Dynasty.
What strategies and resources did an Irish king need to use to become a serious candidate for the high kingship of Ireland during the 11th and 12th centuries?
Until the rise of Brian Boru in the late 10th century, the high kingship of Ireland was passed between the northern and southern branches of the Uì Neill. Like the kingship itself, the high king was a largely ceremonial figure based at Tara. Theoretically this king held some sway over the lesser kings of Ireland, but in actuality he really did not have the wherewithal to exert his will over all Ireland. Under Brian Boru the high kingship became something which could be claimed not just by those of a certain clan, but by anyone with a sword and enough power to hold the throne. The difficulty, of course, was securing the right resources (both men and materiel were needed), and knowing when to make and break alliances.
Technically, any clan chief was in some respects considered a king of his people. That did not mean that all kings were considered equal--most had to pay tribute to a more powerful clan, and thus a more powerful king. With the emergence of Brian Boru and the ensuing Wars of the Great Dynasties, there came a new title in the world of Irish kingship: King of Ireland with Opposition. This title recognized that a ruler had conquered the majority of Ireland, but that he did not have the ties to the Uì Neill necessary to take on the old title of high king. The ‘with opposition’ part was also a nod to the fact that there were other contenders for the throne. Though there were always opportunities for advancement, if a dominant clan began to look like it was on its last legs, or even if it was just looking a shade pale, previously subservient men might start to pick away at the borders of a dominant clan’s lands, and eventually topple that clan altogether, forcing former rulers to flee their territories. Once a king had achieved local domination, however, he might have realized that he could continue to expand his territory if he played his cards right. But what were these cards?
An army. Allies. The Vikings. Strategic cities. Puppet kings and the Catholic Church.
Since the dawn of civilization to hold power one has usually needed some sort of armed force to defend and expand that power. In early medieval Ireland an army was often made up of two groups: clan members--all related in some way or another to the king leading the army, and thus all with some stake in victory; and mercenaries--especially Viking mercenaries. Vikings had the advantages of better weaponry, money, and the only real navy around. They also had a stake in the victory in that it was usually only after a victory that they were paid (though as is often the case with mercenaries, they might receive a better offer from their employer’s enemy and switch sides midway through a conflict.. Of course, this would leave their former employer in the lurch and often resulted in a future dislike or perhaps distrust of Vikings in general).
By the eleventh century, the Viking had been settling on the coast of Ireland for the better part of two hundred years. And in those two centuries they had become one of the resources that Irish clans could use in their struggles against one another. However, though they had in some senses become pawns of the Irish dynastic struggles, from time to time the Vikings would go on the warpath and reassert their control over certain key ports (such as Dublin). The Vikings posed a quandary for an aspirant to the high kingship of Ireland. On the one hand they could be unruly and untrustworthy fighters who might decide to assemble more Vikings and make a play for more territory. On the other hand, they were also skilled sailors and fighters with whom one could conquer a good part of Ireland. Viking crewed longboats could be used to travel up the River Shannon and enforce a king’s will on provinces upriver (such as Leinster and Connacht). Thus central and southern Irish kings in Munster and Mide regularly sent ships upriver to beat the living daylights out of the forces of Connacht and Leinster. The Vikings as a naval force, however, could not really be used to assail Ulster via the Shannon, as the river ended before it made it into the province, forcing any army that wanted to get at the formidable northern province to march there on foot.
But the Vikings were not just a naval power floating around in the Irish Sea and the mouth of the River Shannon to do the bidding of the most powerful kings in Ireland. They were also a formidable trading power, and thus a massive source of income. And, just as every other time in history, in medieval Ireland, wars and conquest required money, something which Viking trading cities possessed in abundance. This wealth made Dublin, Waterford, Wexford, Cork, and Limerick formidable assets and prizes worth fighting for. Of the Viking-associated cities, Dublin had the most money and Vikings at its command. Thus the king of Dublin was a powerful figure, one with whom the various Irish kings would have to deal--either by conquest (and replacement with a puppet king--often short-lived as the Viking inhabitants of the city had a tendency to rebel), or by treaties which would make the king of Dublin owe some tribute to a greater king.
A king could control Dublin and the Viking fleet it provided, and still find himself missing something. That something was usually the backing of the Catholic Church, usually in the form of a prominent bishop. Church influence made it possible for kings to circumvent the centuries old traditions binding high kingship. When Brian Boru campaigned in Ulster in 1005 he stopped by the Abbey of Armagh and made a sizeable donation. After this donation, the Annals of Ulster (written at the Abbey of Armagh, which also happened to be primatial see of Ireland) referred to Boru as Emperor of the Irish. This title gave Boru the recognition of the most organized body in early medieval Ireland and also dodged the question of whether or not he could truly be called a high king, as he was in no way related to the clans that had held the title for centuries. Boru’s descendents would go on to leave a lasting impression on Ireland and would play a major role in the dynastic wars of the 11th and 12th centuries, thanks in part to the token acknowledgment given to Boru (and his descendents later on) by the Church.
An example of a minor king’s rise to power would be that of Muirchertach Ua Briain. In 1075 he was installed as the king of Dublin by his father Toirdelbach Ua Briain. When his father died in 1086, Munster and Leinster was divided between Muirchertach, and his two brothers, Tadc and Diarmait--this division, of course, was a recipe for disaster. Tadc died a month later, and Muirchertach quickly seized his dead brother’s territory and managed to send Diarmait into exile after a brief struggle. Munster secured, Muirchertach had to contend with the forces of the north of Ireland and Dublin. To secure Dublin and Mide (the province that surrounded Dublin) Muirchertach Ua Briain hatched a new strategy: divide Mide into two provinces and appoint the kings of those provinces. And he did this, cutting the ancient kingdom into two parts (Mide and Westmeath). The division of Mide worked rather well for Muirchertach, as it both guaranteed the loyalty of the puppet kings (who had no claims to the provinces other than by his appointment) and also lessened the strategic importance of Mide. Muirchertach would later go on to ally with a Viking king, Magnus Bare Legs, and form an army composed of forces from all over the south of Ireland (Munster, Leinster, and Connacht) to harry the kingdom of Ulster in the north of the island. He then proclaimed himself as High King of Ireland. In making this claim he neglected to acknowledge Ulster, which, despite several campaigns, was never conquered. His rule over much of Ireland secure, Muirchertach presided over two synods aimed at reforming the Irish Church along Continental European lines. He handed the ancient capital of the Eoganacht, the city of Cashel, over to the bishop of Cashel--undermining his clan’s enemies and securing the Church’s friendship in one fell swoop. For all his territorial gains and successes, as Muirchertach aged his power began to weaken, and his kingdom was ripped apart by his opponents prior to his death in 1119.
So there were four main things needed that a small-time Irish king needed to make a play for the high kingship of Ireland during the 11th and 12th centuries--those were (1) Vikings, (2) the backing of the clergy (or at least of some of the clergy, the local abbot or bishop would often do just fine, but real contenders also had to have some sort of backing (especially in and around Ulster) from the bishop of Armagh), (3) puppet kings, and (4) allies both within and out of Ireland. A king, no-matter how powerful, could only get so far on his own. He needed a large network of supporters, both inside and out of his clan. This meant he had to make alliances--to promise people certain things (such as certain territories, marriage-alliances and the like), and then actually put paid to those promises.