In September 1922, in the midst of the Civil War, Eoin O'Duffy was appointed commissioner of the new Civic Guard, shortly to be renamed An Garda Síochána. At a time of strife and upheaval, O'Duffy had his answers to the questions of what would make a disciplined force and they revolved around religion and discipline. He placed great emphasis on clean-living, preached what his biographer Fearghal McGarry characterised as "the gospel of national virility", and indulged his obsession with "manliness".
O'Duffy presided over what was considered a Catholic police force for a Catholic state and 98.7 per cent of those who had joined the force by 1932 were Catholic. In April 1923, 1,500 gardaí paraded outside the Garda depot in the Phoenix Park for a religious ceremony in front of a large banner of the Sacred Heart and dedicated their work to the service of God. Annual religious retreats and missions in the depot were also instituted and, in 1928, O'Duffy led a pilgrimage of 250 gardaí to Rome where they were granted a special audience with Pope Pius XI.
The following year, O’Duffy yet again hit the Catholic devotional jackpot when he was chief marshal at the main event of the Catholic Emancipation centenary celebrations in Dublin. One historian of the gardaí, Liam McNiffe, has noted that O’Duffy frequently reminded his men that they were doing not just a policing job but a Christian (meaning Catholic) duty; the editor of the Garda Review in 1928 wrote that “the Garda Síochána are obeying a higher law than their own”.
The editor of the Garda Review in 1928 wrote that 'the Garda Síochána are obeying a higher law than their own'
O’Duffy also frequently railed against drinking alcohol; the wearing of any emblems on the Garda uniform was prohibited, but O’Duffy made an exception for the Pioneer Total Abstinence Association pin. Nonetheless, constant vigilance was needed to maintain high standards. All members of the force had to get permission from the commissioner to marry and a Garda could not marry any woman if doubts existed about her “moral” character. McNiffe points out that the sergeant of the district where the woman resided had to send a detailed confidential report to the commissioner concerning her suitability for marriage to a garda.
Audacious fraud
But there was a great irony about all O’Duffy’s stringent piety and the influence he had in shaping the infant force until he was dismissed in 1933. O’Duffy was essentially an audacious fraud, endlessly reshaping himself in the search for a more heroic self-image. There were many glaring contradictions weaved through his life: he was a champion of athleticism, law and order and rules who was an alcoholic, chain-smoking fascist, and his political extremism was eventually to prove his undoing. The ethos he promoted, however, was to cast a long shadow and his career sheds much light on the frustrations, bigotry and repressive hypocrisies of the new Irish Free State and the manner in which they endured.
In researching the history of sex throughout this period, there are few 'fallen men' but countless scarlet women
The ideals articulated were impossible of realisation, so scapegoats were needed, especially the "fallen women" as we have learned through an avalanche of revelations over the last quarter of a century. In researching the history of sex throughout this period, there are few "fallen men" to be found but countless scarlet women. And even when the fallen men were identified, different standards applied, as revealed in the powerful RTÉ radio documentary on Garda Majella Moynihan and the media interviews she gave during the week. Her Garda colleague and impregnator was fined £90 in 1985; Moynihan was subjected to opprobrium and harassment leading to personal and professional turmoil culminating in suicide attempts.
‘Mythical obstacles’
Two years previously, in 1983, Fine Gael's Nuala Fennell, minister of state at the Department of Justice, had told the first all ban-gharda class trained at Templemore, "If you find barriers to your advancement, deal with them. Do not accept unreal or mythical obstacles to total job fulfilment."
But how was that possible for Majella Moynihan when pregnant the following year? As the senior gardaí interrogated her on her sex life and morality, she was subjected to a lay version of a Catholic marriage tribunal. As recorded in Magill magazine in 1984, one woman who spoke anonymously of her experience when she applied to have her marriage annulled recounted how she faced five priests in a room who fired statements and questions at her: “You had intercourse with your husband before you were married; how many other people did you have intercourse with before that? When was the first time you had intercourse? Are you going with someone now? Do you have intercourse with him? Where do you have it? Do you have it in a car?”
A year later, Joanne Hayes was also subjected to humiliation and character assassination by an all-male tribunal which arose out of the Garda's handling of the Kerry babies case after members of the force had yet again obeyed a higher law than their own.