The title of TG4′s new documentary De Valera san Fhásach (TG4, 9.30pm) translates as “De Valera In the Desert”. It refers to the metaphorical wasteland to which the future taoiseach was banished following his split with pro-Treaty revolutionaries at the end of the War of Independence. Just like Jesus in the Gospels or Keanu Reeves in John Wick 3, a charismatic leader was cast out into the badlands, and there seemed little prospect of his ever returning.
You can see why a broadcaster would be drawn to the subject. Here is a fascinating period in the life of a politician seen as embodying a reactionary Catholic vision of Ireland – a diddly-dee purgatory of wholesome poverty and happy peasants, overseen by a wise and munificent clergy.
But TG4 has unfortunately bitten off too much by also attempting to tell the story of the generation of revolutionary women who fought the British alongside de Valera but were then marginalised by the Free State they had helped to bring into existence.
This, too, is an absorbing (and shameful) episode in Irish history – but one in which de Valera was only peripherally involved. We learn how, in the years following independence, divorce was outlawed, women forbidden from serving on juries – and that many former revolutionaries were categorised as “neurotic girls” and locked away in institutions.
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The problem is that de Valera was in exile while all this was happening and had no part in it. True, he was in no hurry to roll back these measures when he finally entered government in the 1930s. That, however, is not the time frame under the microscope in De Valera san Fhásach.
There is a suggestion that a cohort of revolutionary women – including the firebrand Mary MacSwiney – allied with Dev on the anti-Treaty side and were subsequently betrayed, but his relationship with these figures is not unpacked in any meaningful way. The result is a documentary that clumsily knits together two distinctive narratives: De Valera’s fall from grace and return to political relevance and the disgraceful treatment of the women of the revolutionary generation.
One topic that isn’t broached is de Valera’s attitude towards women. Did he always believe that – to quote his 1937 constitution – “a woman’s place is in the home”? How did he get on with the strong women in his life? What sort of relationship did he have with his mother? His wife? We don’t know. The question isn’t asked.
To its credit, the documentary has assembled an impressive selection of talking heads whose contributions are thoughtful and engaging. Professor Lindsey Earner-Byrne of Trinity College explains how figures such as Countess Markievicz and Kathleen Clarke, wife of executed 1916 leader Thomas Clarke, believed that “a free Ireland will also have free women in it”. The violence perpetrated against women during the Civil War is raised by historian Anne Twomey. “The gender issue takes a very dark turn. The fact they are women and against the Treaty provoked some strong violence against them.”
It was a dark chapter and one that surely merits its own documentary. Here, it is chunkily incorporated into the grand sweep of de Valera’s fall and rise – another unfortunate example of women reduced to walk-on parts in the story of a man.
