The Irish Times June 19, 1993, CITY EDITION Sinead's brother speaks out on her family life Joseph O'Connor says he is somewhat bewildered by his sister's poem and reports of a subsequent radio interview By JOSEPH O' CONNOR I RETURNED from a foreign trip last Sunday to discover my sister Sinead's recent poem on the subject of "grieving the loss" of her family. I love Sinead very much, and it has been clear to me for some time, as I imagine it must be to everybody, that she is in some considerable distress. Bearing that in mind, I have usually tried to remain silent in the face of her observations about the people who love her, and the media's distorted reporting of those observations. But the time has come to speak now, with gentleness and care, but with some urgency also. I feel very uncomfortable indeed about discussing private concerns in public. I certainly don't know the rules for this particular game. But when a family member succeeds in raising so many confused and shocked public questions about that family, there is no point in answering privately. Innocent people are being hurt. It is an odd and entirely unhappy situation in which to find yourself, having to go public on the Byzantine intricacies of your personal problems ill order to inject a sense of proportion into the critical response to a poem in a newspaper. But now that Sinead has come out with her own version of those problems, she will allow me to fill in the picture a little. I absolutely do not wish to contribute further to Sinead's obviously great anguish, but a number of things need to be clearly established now. I must say truthfully that I felt a little bewildered on reading her poem and reports of her subsequent appearance on RTE's Live Line with Marion Finucane. "I've run away from the pain of not being held for all my life," she writes. Nobody ever held Sinead? Nobody ever treated her with respect? Nobody ever protected her from hurt or listened to her? Nobody ever tried to give her self-esteem and trust? The voices of both her parents need to be "fought off"? This is misleading, and more hurtful than I know Sinead would have meant it to be. For some time now, I have been at a loss to square the public version of the life of our family with the facts, as I know them. If anyone is interested in these facts, they are as follows: My parents had an unhappy marriage and separated in 1975. That was very painful for both of them, and for their four children. They had many fine qualities and loved us all very much, They loved each other, too, but they didn't have too much luck. My mother was a deeply unhappy and disturbed person and her relationship with Sinead and the rest of us disintegrated in time into extreme and violent abuse, both emotional and physical. My father protected us at every single stage, suffering greatly in the process. staying to lake care of us when plenty of parents would have thrown in the towel, spat out the gumshield and run like blue blazes for the dressing room When things became finally unbearable, he fought hard to win custody of us and he succeeded. He did not want to leave us behind in a situation that might have been dangerous for us and, indeed, he did not do this. We were never abandoned by him. For anyone to suggest that we were, or to lump him together with my unfortunate mother, or to equate both of my parents' treatment of us, would be a very serious mistake indeed. Sinead came to live with my father and stepmother. There were times when she got on with them and times when she did not. Sinead had problems in school and used to get into trouble sometimes, as did other children in the family, and as children often do when they've been given a dysfunctional sense of morality. My mother wasn't good on morality, I'm afraid, and we in the family have to learn to extend to her the mercy and forgiveness that any unhappy person deserves. There, but for the grace of God, go we all. My father and stepmother had to pick up the pieces. In an extraordinarily difficult, turbulent situation, with a houseful of anxious and frightened young teenagers, naturally there were disagreements and occasional rows and rucks, and the odd good hollering roar was let out of one or two of us. And the language, at times, was not what you would use if you were meeting Her Majesty, the Queen of England, or even a minor royal. But it was never Sean O'Casey stuff. My own view is that no two people could have possibly done more for us than my Dad and my stepmother, that we were always treated with love and respect and affection. My mother died in 1985. Sinead went to London to become a singer. She was supported and absolutely encouraged in this by the whole family, who continued to be as enthusiastically interested in promoting her sense of self-esteem as they always had been. Her exceptional talent was recognised in a short time, and Sinead became successful. The family shared in the joy of that success, particularly my father, who is terrifically fond of singing, and who had always encouraged her in that regard. He was extremely and devotedly proud of Sinead, as he is of all his children. I feel sure that Sinead must remember how he took a keen interest in everything she did, talked about her always with great love and admiration, defended her strongly when that was necessary, fought the odd battle for her, made a point of befriending her pals, fellow-musicians and managers. My Dad was always there for Sinead. because he felt that was import ant for her, and because he wanted to support her. Media accounts of Sinead's life would be more useful if they reflected this fact. Perhaps Sinead has forgotten some of this now. I hope not. But maybe she will allow me a gentle reminder of the first time she played in Dublin; for example, how every single member of the family was so very proud of her; how we all, far from abandoning her, actually came to support her, along with family friends, uncles, aunts. cousins, boyfriends, girlfriends and spouses, some of them travelling from abroad to be there. There was a lot of familial love and commitment for her in the room that night, as there always had been before, and as there is now. Reading the media's response to her poem it is clear that the widespread public view has been taken that Sinead had a completely loveless childhood. But this is inaccurate. Despite the awful problems and hurts that existed in the family, which hurts I would not for a moment attempt to deny, Sinead, in fact, has always had a great capacity to inspire love. She is a very worthwhile person, very beautiful and talented and bright, and has so much that people find attractive. Thus, all her life she has been surrounded by people who loved her cared for her, enjoyed her many qualities, supported her, helped her out, had a laugh with her. Later, when things deteriorated, and she was unhappy, they did their utter best to understand, when they had their own serious problems to heal, and it was very difficult indeed to do so. Sure, they sometimes couldn't do it, but they did try very hard, because they cared for her. They're still trying. Sinead has a lot of friends, three marvellous step-sisters, Lisa, Jane and Kate, a wonderful half-brother, Eoin, two brothers who are absolutely and utterly mad about her, myself and John, a gentle and loving companion in John Reynolds, and a sister, Eimer, whose loyalty to Sinead is totally unswerving, as she knows. All these people loved Sinead. They still do. The idea that they didn't or don't is not accurate. Perhaps the media will remember this, when next they refer to her loveless life. Perhaps they will remember, too, that these people, had their own tough times, the pain of which is not healed by the peculiarly ignorant form of speculative therapy being practised on them in the newspapers. I'm not going to tell public horror stories of squalor and misery, because I think the dignity of people in the family should be respected. But Sinead is not the only family member who's been hurt, as I feel confident she would be the first to tell you. To suggest that they are responsible, whether by omission or commission, for Sinead's difficulties, is a form of abuse which the press really should stop. In addition to her brothers and sisters, Sinead also has a very loving father and stepmother, Sean and Viola. For the record, my stepmother Viola is a remarkable woman, gentle, loving, tolerant. She is the calmest person I've ever met. I have known Viola for almost 20 years, during which time another woman's children have come tumbling in and out of her life with bewildering rapidity, and I've never once seen her shout, break anything or lose her temper. we were extremely lucky and privileged to have her love and support and, really, that should be publicly acknowledged by all of us in the family. Sinead says she needs to "fight off" my father's voice. Well, I invite readers who have children - including Sinead - to pause and ponder the sadness of those unfortunate words. I feel sorry that something made my sister angry enough to say that, but I feel more sorry for my Dad. He doesn't deserve that. I don't believe she could possibly have meant it. The truth is that my father's whole life has been lived for his children. He has worked for them, feared for them, fought hard and tough for them, openly revealed his human weaknesses and great strengths to them, always told them the truth and done his best, and endured some pretty horrendous things for them. The guy has forgotten more about simple human decency than most parents will ever know, and he loves Sinead, as we all do, very much indeed. At a time when things were extremely difficult for him, he cared for us with a selflessness that was nothing short of exemplary. If he must be discussed in the media at all, that should be reflected. If any one of us is as good at being a parent as Sean was, our children will be fortunate indeed. And here is something else. In the tragic times in which we live, to allow any suggestion of parental misconduct of an abusive nature to be given or taken about my Dad, as Sinead - I am sure accidentally - seemed to last week on the Marion Finucane Show, was really a serious error. To allow such an implication to stand uncorrected is simply not right. She must know that. I feel sure that she will take steps to correct it with some speed. I know very well what great things Sinead is capable of, and I do not want her to sell herself short by fighting the wrong enemies. In any family, there are ups and downs and rows and squabbles, every day of the week, and God knows, ours is no exception. Nobody is totally innocent of them, all the time, in a difficult family situation. Certainly not me. Not Sinead. Nobody. We are all human, vulnerable, fragile. But that doesn't mean everyone is guilty either. And if we must make public statements about those vulnerabilities, it is very important that we learn to be a little more careful in our language. And as we're all supposed to be openly expressing our feelings about families in general these days, let me express a few more of my own. Crusading for the rights of those we have never met is a noble and compassionate activity, but the personal is profoundly political too. Of course, we must all stand up for abused children - those we know and those we don't - and it's about time we all did in Ireland, no mistake. But we also have obligations to the people who have always cared for us. They are as human and weak as we are, but we must cherish them also, even - perhaps especially - when they fall short of our standards. Maybe we should look at those standards, while we're at it, and wonder if we could live up to them ourselves. Specifically in the case of my own family, my view is that maybe we should think sometimes about all we have, not just all we have lost. We are all so lucky to have each other, and to have the strength we do. We must grieve, yes, and grieve fully - and the press could help that process by allowing it to take place in private. But we should celebrate, too. And we should all try to understand that others have been hurt also, and treat them with the gentleness of which we are so capable. Criticise, of course, if we find that necessary, but with love, and a sense of what we all went through together. I suspect that this is how we are healed. (All this excessive use of the first person plural - I sound like Father Brian Darcy.) The media's role in exacerbating the pain and humiliation to which my family has been subjected now is important. Sections of the press have turned us into an odd kind of latter-day Roman spectator sport. People everywhere must know that we have had our share of troubles, that we really should be left alone to sort them out. But no, in the debased times in which we live it is just fabulously entertaining to watch the famous and those around them suffer, and hell, no ambitious journalist ever got poor underestimating the taste of the public. Those who have unquestioningly perpetuated inaccurate versions of my family's story for the sake of salacious copy should be utterly ashamed of themselves, for the harm they must know they have done to Sinead, and the harm are doing to the rest of us. To those more responsible journalists who have written with compassion and a fuller understanding of the family situation, and to those others who have maintained a humane silence in the face of things they cannot possibly understand, I express my sincere thanks. I hope Sinead will take another and more full look at the public version of her past, as expressed in her poem, and apply to it the rigorous honesty for which she is so widely admired. Because nobody has benefited from this sorry episode, except the gossip writers and the hacks. The heartbreaking truth is that, quietly, by accident, things have somehow gone wrong for Sinead, and the rest of us. There's a lot of healing to be done for all of us, but it will be done, I know. In the meantime, the inaccuracy should stop, and we really should be left in peace, if we are ever to have the happy lives that all wounded people deserve.