O’Conaill, Sean, The Chain that Binds the Earth. Bloomington, IN: AuthorHouse UK 2015. ISBN: 978-1-5049-4228-7 (sc), 978-1-5049-4229-4 (e).

The Chain that Binds the Earth, written by Sean O’CONAILL, is a novel for young adults that turns out to be a must read for their parents and teachers as well. Set in Northern Ireland after the Troubles, the violence of that time haunts the lives of the parents, and so also, the children. As we journey through a school year with four fourteen-year-olds attending an exemplary Catholic school, we encounter the way in which the sins of the parents are visited upon their children. Cruel, sometimes violent, bullying is a constant part of the children’s lives yet remains invisible to the adults who love them.

Mimetic theory is, of course, a theory of violence and religion. It has proved a valuable tool for those working toward a sustainable peace in Northern Ireland. Roel KAPTEIN and Duncan MORROW in particular have used mimetic theory to analyze the conflict and create a workable pathway out of it. Hope that the lessons of the Troubles could benefit other areas afflicted with religious/political violence has led to exchanges with peacemakers in the Middle East. Applying the structure of the sacrificial mechanism to such conflicts illuminates the resistance of the participants to conflict resolution. The necessity of an enemy to cultural cohesion means that scapegoating is so enmeshed with group identity that to do without it feels like death.

For those of us who work with children and youth, the mimetic theory allows us to understand bullying as a particularly pernicious form of scapegoating. Pernicious because it is a scapegoat mechanism wrapped inside a larger one. Bullying among children is a spot on imitation of the larger cultural phenomenon of scapegoating, something too easily denied by adults. Because we associate bullying with children, adults are often unable to see their own culpability and so blame children for the problem. In other words, children are the convenient scapegoats of a scapegoating culture, helping to sustain the blindness necessary for the system to function.

O’CONAILL does a good job of dramatizing the various and random ways in which scapegoats are chosen as we follow a series of bullying incidents. These encounters carry the threat of violence, which is often realized, and adult readers will wince at the ignorance of the teachers to what is happening on their watch. We wince because we recognize the truth of this fictional account, especially the way in which O’CONAILL connects the bullying in the school to the scapegoating violence perpetrated and endured by the adults. The children are sadly victims of the sins of their parents and O’CONAILL clearly intends this to be a message for all of Northern Ireland to hear. The novel warns that violence risks replicating itself in the next generation, but it is also the next generation that can, perhaps, reverse the trend. It is the scapegoats, after all, who have the clearest understanding of the lies and deliberate blindness that sustain the system. This truth is what James ALISON refers to as the “intelligence of the victim” and it is this very intelligence that motivates O’CONAILL’s characters.

These children want answers. Why does bullying happen? Why do we want what other people have, especially when what they have makes us feel small or less important? Does this type of wanting have anything to do with bullying? And they especially want to know why their teachers can’t answer any of their questions! Before long they are making a connection between the commandment not to covet and the world of desiring they see all around them. They invent a term, “copy-wanting”, for what we know as mimetic desire.

The children see what the adults around them cannot – that all sorts of problems in the world begin with copy-wanting, which they define as “wanting something that someone else has because you think it makes them better than you.” Wanting to be better than others even appears to be behind the bullying that’s going on in their class, especially from one Gavan McGuire. Gavan picks on a number of classmates for a variety of reasons: stuttering or being adopted, overweight or shy. Johnny and his friends, Margaret, Mary and Eddy see that Gavan enjoys feeling like top dog and putting others down gives him the lift his ego craves.

The foursome calls themselves bridgers with a small b, an idea that begins with the main character, Johnny Mullan, and spreads to his friends. Johnny is from a Catholic family living in the Protestant section of town – on the wrong side of the bridge, as it turns out. He crosses the bridge by bus every day to attend his Catholic school with the other wrong-siders Margaret, Mary and Eddy. Each is troubled by issues that defy easy answers, from crime to the environment to the sheer number and variety of obstacles in the way of peace. But they are united by two things: a deep desire to stop bullying in their school and their prayerful search for a solution to the world’s problems.

When they get picked on by Gavan and his fellow bullies, or when they see someone else in their class being ridiculed or taunted, they are tempted to dish the abuse right back. But that only seems to make things worse and besides, they don’t want to turn into bullies themselves. Luckily, prayer comes as naturally to these friends as does their passion for knowledge.

O’CONAILL offers us prayer seasoned with youthful imagination, which may be what adult prayer sometimes lacks. There is nothing dry or rote about the inner dialogues these children have with God. In response to their prayerful longing for help, guides visit them in their dreams. Ordinary in appearance yet magical in their knowledge and insight, the guides teach them how to respond to bullies. In the moment when the bully seems to have the upper hand, when you want to run away or strike back, pause before responding. The dream visitors advise that they take a moment to pray for the “power of the bridge”. A response will come that builds a bridge between the bully, the bullied and the confused and frightened bystanders.

Soon the friends are interrupting the abusive bullying and protecting the most vulnerable in their class. Humor seems to work well as does agreeing with the bully but adding a twist to the meaning of their taunt, almost the way parables work. The victims are amazed and grateful, but the bullies sulk away promising revenge. Revenge is a dangerous business when you live on the wrong side of the bridge, and we soon discover that the worst bully in the class, Gavan McGuire, comes from a family that scapegoated Johnny’s father during the Troubles when Johnny’s dad was only 14 himself.

O’CONAILL was born in Dublin and taught history in Catholic schools in Northern Ireland for thirty years. The problem of festering scapegoating in schools as well as the inability of Ireland’s religious educators to come to the aid of the children prompted him to speak directly to young people about mimetic theory. With his fictionalized account of parents and their children wrestling with the consequences of the Troubles, O’CONAILL has found a way to share the wisdom of mimetic theory with children and perhaps most poignantly, through the children offer hope to the adults who love them.

Suzanne Ross

Based in Chicago, USA, Suzanne Ross edits the website of the Raven Foundation – which declares itself  “committed to making religion reasonable, violence unthinkable and peace a possibility by spreading awareness of the transformative power of mimetic theory.”

This review appears in the December 2015  issue of the Bulletin of the international Colloquium on Violence and Religion (COV&R).

As a former teacher myself, it is a pleasure and a privilege to be here for the launch of a book which reflects some of the accumulated wisdom of a dedicated and passionate teacher. It is a very well balanced book, containing a deep insight into how young people live, work and think, a passion for offering good news into their often challenging lives and a pedagogical awareness of how to communicate core messages in a clear and succinct way. This is a book for young adults and for any who work with them.

It is an encouraging book — and that is one of its great strengths. We live in stressful times. Threats are posited on all sides — global warming, terror attacks in tourist centres and uncertainty about work into the future. For many, the prospect of a wild week in Magaluf is about as good as life can get. So often the heroes they see are Rambo-esque or seductive. What we don’t need is cultural candyfloss or Mills and Boon type escapist caricatures of what life can offer. This book offers a story of struggle, faithfulness to core principles and the ultimate victory of good over bad. It tells of young people who wrestle with the imperfections of the world in which they find themselves, confident that a deep truth can be mined from the hard rock of experience. But this is not a victory won by brute force and ignorance but rather a success that is built on persistence, dialogue and comradeship. So I welcome a book for young people that treats them as intelligent and idealistic, loyal and generous. The characters at the heart of this story are not prepared to tolerate the invisible
chains that keep the strong in power. They seek a liberation that promotes dignity and not merely libertinism. Poor cultural heroes are part of the chains that bind the earth.

And there is another thread to this fabric. The story is set in a city that has known decades of violence and destruction. Some of the young people in the story have come to believe that might is right and that violence solves things. Many of our governments similarly seem to believe that, after decades of bombing the Middle East, another series of bombings will be necessary to settle the hornet’s nest that has been stirred up. But violence never puts an end to violence. It is remarkable that this book is being formally launched just one month to the date after the death of René Girard, whose insights have intrigued our author. Our story shows how the chains of violence and counter-violence, the illusion of a war to end all wars, the cycle of action and reaction, have bound us into the perceived need to react violently to events like 9/11 or the murders in Paris exactly three weeks ago. Teachers and parents have so often heard the story from someone who assaulted another — he started it. He is to blame for what I did. And Irish society has been plagued by the desire to claim victimhood. But victimhood diminishes us all as I then disclaim responsibility for my actions or those of my community. This story tackles that profound Girardian theme in a clear and concrete manner. Even for that element of its content, it would be a welcome addition to our literature.

Thirdly, we have heard over the last few days how the UK and today Germany have decided to join in the bombing of targets in Syria. No matter how much analysts assert that more bombings will make little or no difference, there seems to be a driving mimetic desire not to be seen as different from other countries that are already bombing. To me this seems like one more example of the childish ‘copy-wanting’, a tsunami of which hits us at this time in the year as young and old are told that they have to have something newer, bigger, better, cooler or just geekier. ‘Copy-wanting’ is a felicitous neologism that our young hero coins to describe his experience of the pressures to acquire and conform. But our story shows us that these chains that bind the earth can also be broken.
I read this book in September while on holiday. It was a good read then. But a sign of the quality of both tale and writing style is that I can still remember so many of the scenes – the first journey to lona College, the relationship with his dad, the attitude of some teachers — and of course, the wisdom of the bishop, to name but a few. It is a story that is anchored in landscapes that we know — not just Derry City and its environs but also the cultural world that we know that the author has skilfully captured.

I commend it to you as an excellent read and a wise story. And I really look forward to the day when a future edition of the Oxford English Dictionary includes the word ‘copy-wanting’.  And then we here this evening can say that we were among the first to celebrate its birth and appreciate its wisdom.

Most Reverend Donal McKeown, D.D., Bishop of Derry

In the Everglades Hotel, Derry, on the night of Storm Desmond, Dec. 4th, 2015.

The thought of a public event, with invited media, to mark the publication of this book has intimidated me for some time, but advice from relatives and friends – and a happy set of circumstances – has finally prevailed.

I am especially grateful to Bishop Donal McKeown of Derry, who read the book while on holiday in September, liked it, and offered in October to help with the launch and with getting the paperbacks into Veritas Books in Derry.

So that launch will happen on Friday December 4th, in the Everglades Hotel, Prehen Road, Derry – beginning at 7.30 p.m. – details below.

Invites have gone out, and in the case of Derry second-level schools, preview copies as well.

For any of you who don’t get an invite but would like to turn up, please use the comment facility at the base of this page.

For a less subjective view of this work, Aidan Donaldson’s review in the Irish Catholic, click here.

From the start my major aim has been to provoke a lively discussion on the issue of ‘counter-culture’ – to help us all clarify what we mean by the term. This seems to be a concern of Bishop McKeown also, who, twice in my hearing recently, has argued for a fuller and deeper understanding of the Christian Creed, in opposition to the commercial slogans that tend to dominate popular culture – (such as ‘Let’s Feel Good’ from pharmacy chain Boots).  His quotation of Victor Frankl – to the effect that life at its greatest is a search for meaning – could not be closer to my own way of thinking.

The frequent denial that life can have any deeper meaning than to ‘live it up’ leads inevitably to the culture of self-harm that threatens people of all ages today, especially those on the threshold of adult life.

So this launch event of Friday 4th December could kick off a lively discussion on how all of us are to become counter-cultural, with the characters and young readers of The Chain That Binds the Earth leading the charge.

Now being asked about a sequel to this story, I have to say, first, that although there are themes I want deal with, it will take time to develop a workable plot.  I need to wait for far more feedback from younger readers, hoping a plot might come from all that.

Secondly I tend to say that the very best sequels may come from younger writers.  Although I have a particular interest in the main characters of ‘The Chain’ I cannot claim copyright on the idea of the ‘bridgers’ , and won’t even try.  Why couldn’t there be teenagers out there who, if they like ‘The Chain’, would make ‘bridgers’ stories of their own, either fictional, or in the real and heroic events of their own lives?

Our Catholic Christian tradition is not dying in Ireland – it is preparing itself, through deep trial, for a new and different cultural reality.  On Friday December 4th 2015 we will be celebrating what we owe to it, and the certainty of its ongoing renewal.

Chapter 1:  The Chasm

The chasm or gulf between the word and the deed – between what great ideologies promised in the twentieth century and what they have delivered.  The millions who fell into these chasms in two World Wars and under Leftist and Rightist tyrannies.  The chasm also in western culture between the disciples of freedom and those of Christ – into which millions also fall daily, forced to choose between faith and a personal search for meaning.

Chapter 2:  The Upward Journey and the Pyramid of Esteem

The origin of the chasm between the word and the deed in human sinfulness, properly understood as the upward journey.  Ideologies cannot bridge the chasm, because they are always used by those who supposedly understand them to empower themselves.  This is the human constant – the upward journey that we humans – in particular we men – embark upon, looking for ‘success’, wealth, prestige and power.  Its root is the belief that our own importance depends upon the recognition of others – so we carry in our heads a mental map of the communities to which we belong as pyramids of esteem, hierarchies in which some are superior and some are inferior to ourselves.  And we set out to climb.  Historical examples – Crassus who in 70 BC crucified 6,000 slaves along the Appian Way, and Bill Gates who set out to dominate the world of computer software at the millennium.  It is these upward journeys that maintain the pyramids, and the endless cycle of injustice continues.

Jesus of Nazareth was essentially bent upon reversing and exposing this upward journey to ‘glory’ – by embarking upon a downward journey, of recognition of the ‘losers’ of the ancient world, and finally, crucifixion.

Chapter 3:   The Impossible Journey

The upward journey of the ancient world – through ‘heroic’ violence to recognition.  Alexander, Caesar and David.  Jesus as a complete contrast – with humility accepting the baptism of John, implying that he too needed cleansing.  He was then, and for no other achievement, recognised by ‘The Father’.  He then rejected the temptations of Satan in the desert – specifically the temptations to worldly and religious ambition.  And then embarked upon a journey of recognition of those unable to ascend the pyramids of esteem controlled by the religious elites of Palestine.  This ‘downward journey’ inevitably earned the resentment of those whose self-respect and livelihoods depended upon the Temple system of winning God’s favour.

The difficulty expressed by Jesus’ disciples in accepting the downward journey: They constantly ask ‘which of us is the greatest’?  His refusal to establish a pyramid of esteem among them, and his own exemplary insistence upon service, especially in the washing of the feet at the last supper.  Peter’s particular difficulty in accepting the downward journey.  His attempt to reverse it at Gethsemane.  The crucifixion as the culmination of the downward journey.

Chapter 4:   The Kingdom

The beautiful objective of the downward journey – the kingdom of God, in which the poor in spirit will learn that they are equally loved by the Father, and in which all are free to be themselves.  The end of conflict, which is the inevitable result of the upward journey – between states as well as individuals.  Repentance as a profound emotional reaction to the knowledge that each of us has been loved from the beginning, an acknowledgement of our waywardness, and a deep reconciliation.  Also a rediscovery of the self that we hide behind masks on the upward journey.  Conversion as the desire to love and serve, joining in the task of recognising the unloved.  The crucifixion as a divine affirmation that there is no such thing as a ruined life.

Chapter 5:   The Crucifixion and the Key of Knowledge

The Crucifixion as interpreted by the academic Rene Girard – as a key of knowledge that allows us to unlock the most important secret of the ancient world.  This was the fact that all ancient culture was founded on scapegoating violence – the communal murder of isolated individuals or groups upon whom could be blamed all that appeared to be going wrong in society. Ancient myths as a concealment of this process – and the Bible, uniquely, as a revelation of it.  This process of revelation reaches its natural culmination in Jesus’ crucifixion, which he himself predicts – revealing ‘things hidden since the foundation of the world’.  This too was a purpose of the downward journey.

Chapter 6:   Origins of the Western Chasm

How did the meaning of Jesus downward journey get lost to view in Western history?  The explanation begins when the declining Roman Empire decided to adopt Christianity as the state religion in the 400s CE, and the Christian clergy themselves set out upon an upward journey to power and prestige.  It became their task to support and justify the social pyramids of the middle ages.  The crucial role of Augustine of Hippo in this process,  misinterpreting the gospels to justify religious persecution.  This deliberate association of Christendom with intolerance was the root of the rejection of Christ by the West in the modern era.

Chapter 7:   Downward Journeys

The decline of the power of the Church in the modern era, accelerated by the Enlightenment of the 18th century.  This was partially a reaction against Christian intolerance, again expressed in the religious wars that followed the Protestant Reformation, and partially a reaction to the extraordinary successes of science in the 17th century, and the opening up of the world with the voyages of Columbus and others.  The bible knew nothing of science or the Americas.  Could a new world be built, upon foundations other than Christian intolerance?  The Enlightenment thought so, and the age of secularism began.  Science replaced Christianity as the wave of the future, and Christian clerics lost their intellectual ascendancy to the scientists.  The Church lost further ground when it opposed the democratic aspiration originating in the USA and France in the late 18th century, and Darwinism increased this route in the 1800s.  Secularism – the systematic de-clericalisation of western society – continued apace into the twentieth century.

However, the optimism of the secular ideologies of the nineteenth century was confounded by the horrific violence of the twentieth.  Naive modernism – the notion that a peaceful and just world could be built upon reason alone – gave way to extreme intellectual and spiritual pessimism.  So, secularism too is on a downward curve at the end of the 20th century.

Chapter 8:   Healing the Chasm Between Faith and Freedom

The argument between conservative Christianity and liberalism.  The first emphasises the need for dogma – fixed and immovable truths, while the second insists upon the primacy of freedom.  Are we bound to stay in the paralysis of this debate?  Cannot truth embrace freedom?  The Vatican 2 acceptance of religious freedom – how is this to be theologically justified?

The separate problem of understanding Atonement – the process by which we humans become ‘at-one’ with God, through the crucifixion.  Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger’s question: why does God reign in this weak way, from the cross?

The solution to both problems is the inviolability of human freedom from God’s perspective.  He wants humans to come to him freely, rather than by coercion.  The crucifixion is an appeal to that part of us that should and can direct our freedom: our capacity to love, our heart.  When the church opposes freedom it stands in the way of atonement – and this is why much of the modern west has rejected Christ.  When the principle of human freedom is accepted by the church, freedom becomes dogmatic – and this dogma is shared with liberalism, for which freedom is paramount.

Chapter 9:   Healing the Chasm between Individual and Community

The threat to community – and therefore to the individual – from individualism.  The parables of the Lost Sheep and the Prodigal Son embrace this problem also.  Most individual upward journeys end in failure – but the cross remains as a means of healing, repentance and reconciliation.  It reveals the divine compassion and forbearance.  This will be the role of all Christians in the new millennium – to embody – or incarnate, this compassion.  This can be the foundation of a new spirit of community.

Chapter 10:   Healing the Chasm Within the Church

Pope John Paul I’s joyful acceptance of the disempowerment of the church as an acknowledgement of the church’s current situation in western history, and of the imperative of the downward journey.  The polarised wings of the church must seek reconciliation through service of all those who suffer from the effects of the upward journey.  The Church as a body must also embark upon the downward journey.

Chapter 11:   Futile Desire

‘Consumerism’ as a desire to possess those things possessed by those we envy – and thus as an inevitable consequence of the upward journey.  The threat to global peace and the environment this poses.  Jesus’ downward journey as an invitation to frugality and sharing by the west – a source of hope and inspiration in the midst of greed and ambition.  The downward journey will remain eternally relevant, and has never been more relevant than now..

Chapter 12:   Coming to the Father

“You shall be as Gods” – this promise of Satan in Eden was the invitation to the upward journey that most humans follow, the ‘original sin’ that still troubles the world.  It is the source of hierarchy and of great suffering for it ensures that only a tiny minority can be recognised.  Jesus life as an invitation to join with him in recognising the equal beauty of all lives.  His inspiration of many to the downward journey in the past two thousand years – e.g. St Francis of Assisi, and, in our own time, Jean Vanier who founded the L’Arche movement.  It is the route back to the Father, a living personal reality with whom we can commune through prayer.  This is the extraordinary journey to which we are all called.