Combating Terrorism in Northern Ireland (Cass Series on Political Violence)

Combating Terrorism in Northern Ireland

This edited book analyses the lessons which can be drawn from Northern Ireland’s experiences of combating terrorism. The chapters in this volume unite analysis and practice in exploring both the conflict in Northern Ireland and the internationally applicable counter-terrorism lessons which can be drawn from the response to it. The contributors, all specialists in their fields, make a theoretical analysis of the underlying causes of terrorism, and explore how this interacts with the development of effective operations and policy responses. The book emphasises the socio-economic and socio-cultural dimensions underlying the problem of terrorism, arguing that short-term, violent/military responses can in fact exacerbate the problem. It highlights the complexity of terrorism as a social phenomenon, and outlines the multi-faceted approach needed to combat it. This book will be of much interest to students of terrorism studies, Irish politics, ethnic conflict, and security studies in general. James Dingley is a sociologist and freelance lecturer and writer on terrorism and conflict. He has a PhD in Political Sociology from London University.

Cass Series on Political Violence Series Editors: Paul Wilkinson and David Rapoport

This book series contains sober, thoughtful and authoritative academic accounts of terrorism and political violence. Its aim is to produce a useful taxonomy of terror and violence through comparative and historical analysis in both national and international spheres. Each book discusses origins, organisational dynamics and outcomes of particular forms and expressions of political violence. Aviation Terrorism and Security Edited by Paul Wilkinson and Brian M. Jenkins Counter-Terrorist Law and Emergency Powers in the United Kingdom, 1922–2000 Laura K. Donohue The Democratic Experience and Political Violence Edited by David C. Rapoport and Leonard Weinberg Inside Terrorist Organizations Edited by David C. Rapoport The Future of Terrorism Edited by Max Taylor and John Horgan The IRA, 1968–2000 An analysis of a secret army J. Bowyer Bell Millennial Violence Past, present and future Edited by Jeffrey Kaplan Right-Wing Extremism in the Twenty-First Century Edited by Peter H. Merkl and Leonard Weinberg

Terrorism Today Christopher C. Harmon The Psychology of Terrorism John Horgan Research on Terrorism Trends, achievements and failures Edited by Andrew Silke A War of Words Political violence and public debate in Israel Gerald Cromer Root Causes of Suicide Terrorism Globalization of martyrdom Edited by Ami Pedahzur Terrorism versus Democracy The liberal state response, 2nd edition Paul Wilkinson Countering Terrorism and WMD Creating a global counter-terrorism network Edited by Peter Katona, Michael Intriligator and John Sullivan Mapping Terrorism Research State of the art, gaps and future direction Edited by Magnus Ranstorp The Ideological War on Terror World-wide strategies for counter-terrorism Edited by Anne Aldis and Graeme P. Herd The IRA and Armed Struggle Rogelio Alonso Homeland Security in the UK Future preparedness for terrorist attack since 9/11 Edited by Paul Wilkinson et al. Terrorism Today 2nd Edition Christopher C. Harmon

Understanding Terrorism and Political Violence The life cycle of birth, growth, transformation, and demise Dipak K. Gupta Global Jihadism Theory and practice Jarret M. Brachman Combating Terrorism in Northern Ireland Edited by James Dingley

Combating Terrorism in Northern Ireland

Edited by James Dingley

First published 2009 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 270 Madison Ave, New York, NY 10016 This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2008. “To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.” Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2009 Selection and editorial matter, James Dingley; individual chapters, the contributors All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Combating terrorism in Northern Ireland / edited by James Dingley. p. cm. – (Cass series on political violence) 1. Terrorism–Northern Ireland. 2. Political violence–Northern Ireland. 3. Northern Ireland–Social conditions. 4. Northern Ireland–Politics and government. 5. Great Britain–Politics and government. I. Dingley, James. HV6433.G7C22 2008 363.325'15609417–dc22 2008012543 ISBN 0-203-89087-6 Master e-book ISBN ISBN10: 0-415-36733-6 (hbk) ISBN10: 0-203-89087-6 (ebk) ISBN13: 978-0-415-36733-2 (hbk) ISBN13: 978-0-203-89087-5 (ebk)

Contents

Notes on contributors

1 Introduction

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1

JAMES DINGLEY

2 Northern Ireland and the ‘troubles’

10

JAMES DINGLEY

3 The rise of the paramilitaries

35

PETER R. NEUMANN

4 Terrorist strategy and tactics

54

JAMES DINGLEY

5 Terrorist groups and their political fronts

78

ANTHONY RICHARDS

6 Terrorist weapons and technology

102

JOHN ALLISON

7 Organised crime and racketeering in Northern Ireland

128

CHRIS RYDER

8 The government’s response

137

PETER R. NEUMANN

9 Northern Ireland terrorism: the legal response AUSTEN MORGAN

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Contents

10 The Royal Ulster Constabulary and the terrorist threat

177

NEIL SOUTHERN

11 The military response

198

SIR ALISTAIR IRWIN AND MIKE MAHONEY

12 From war of manoeuvre to war of position: a brief history of the Provisional IRA and the Irish Republic

227

JOHN HORGAN

13 How significant was international influence in the Northern Ireland peace process?

245

PAUL WILKINSON

14 The war continues? Combating the paramilitaries and the role of the British Army after the Belfast Agreement

258

CHRISTOPHER BASS AND M.L.R. SMITH

15 Conclusion

280

JAMES J.F. FOREST

Index

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Contributors

John Allison has an MSc in the Study of Security Management from the University of Leicester and is currently a PhD candidate at the University of St Andrews. His research focuses on the Improvised Explosive Device (IED) threat. He has also been actively involved with counter-terrorism for many years including the European Union Special Advisor’s programme in the Palestinian territories of West Bank and Gaza. In 2004 John travelled to Baghdad to study the IED threat in that region. He has written articles for the Royal United Services Institute (RUSI) journal, Monitor, and the ‘World Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) Gazette’, the official journal of the World EOD Foundation. In June 2004 he was a guest speaker at an International Terrorism conference at RUSI, London. Christopher Bass is an independent analyst of military and security affairs. James Dingley is a sociologist, with a PhD in Political Sociology from London University and previously lectured on Terrorism and Political Violence at the University of Ulster. He is now a freelance international lecturer and writer on all aspects of terrorism and conflict, with specific reference to the sociocultural causes of ethno-national and religious violence. He is the author of Nationalism, Social Theory and Durkheim (Palgrave: London, 2008) and has published in most of the major international terrorism and nationalism journals as well as being a frequent international media commentator. He is chairman of the Northern Ireland think tank Northern Light Review and has his own consultancy, Cybernos Associates. James J.F. Forest is the Director of Terrorism Studies and Associate Professor of Political Science at the U.S. Military Academy, where he has worked since 2001. He teaches undergraduate courses in terrorism, counter-terrorism, information warfare, international relations and sub-Saharan Africa. He also directs a series of research initiatives for the Combating Terrorism Center at West Point, covering topics such as recruitment, training, and organisational knowledge transfer. He holds a top secret clearance with the U.S. Department of Defense, and has been an invited speaker at a variety of government seminars, national and international conferences, and other venues. Dr. Forest has

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Contributors written 11 books, including The Making of a Terrorist (2005), Teaching Terror (2006), Countering Terrorism and Insurgency in the 21st Century (2007), and Weapons of Mass Destruction and Terrorism (2007).

John Horgan is Senior Research Fellow at the Centre for the Study of Terrorism and Political Violence at the University of St. Andrews, where he is also Lecturer in International Relations. He has a PhD in Psychology from University College, Cork where he lectured in forensic psychology and the psychology of terrorism. His work is widely published and his books include The Psychology of Terrorism (London: Routledge, 2005) and The Future of Terrorism (with Max Taylor, London: Frank Cass, 2000). His new book Walking Away from Terrorism, based on extensive one-on-one interviews with former activists around the world, will be published by Routledge in 2008. Sir Alistair Irwin served for 35 years in the British Army. During the course of his career he undertook many tours of duty in Northern Ireland, starting as a platoon commander in 1970 and finishing as General Officer Commanding 2000–2003. He has previously contributed chapters and forewords to books on military theory and military history. He has contributed articles and reviews to The Spectator, War in History and the British Army Review. Mike Mahoney joined the Army after graduating from Ulster University and served in Northern Ireland both with the infantry and as a staff officer. He has lectured widely on terrorism and global security and left the Army in 2006 to complete a doctoral thesis in aspects of counter-terrorism. He has contributed to various publications on terrorism and political violence. Austen Morgan is a barrister in London and Belfast. He is the author of: The Belfast Agreement: a practical legal analysis (Belfast Press: Belfast, 2000). Peter R. Neumann is Leverhulme Research Fellow in International Terrorism at the Department of War Studies, King’s College London. He is the author of Britain’s Long War: British Strategy in the Northern Ireland Conflict, 1969–98 (Palgrave, 2003), as well as IRA: Langer Weg zum Frieden (EVA, 1999) – the only history of the IRA in German. Anthony Richards has recently joined the University of East London as a Senior Lecturer in Terrorism Studies. Prior to this he was a Senior Research Associate at the Centre for the Study of Terrorism and Political Violence, University of St Andrews, where he taught on the terrorism studies distance learning programme, for which he designed two modules: Terrorist Ideologies, Aims and Motivations; and Terrorist Modus Operandi. Prior to this he worked on the UK Economic and Social Research Council project ‘The Domestic Management of Terrorist Attacks in the UK’, which was an assessment of both the UK’s ability to pre-empt a major terrorist attack and its capacity to deal with the consequences of one (three of his chapters have been published in the book version of the report: Homeland Security in the UK: Future Preparedness for Terrorist Attack Since 9/11 (London: Rout-

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ledge, 2007). He is currently working on a terrorism textbook (co-authored with Dr Peter Lehr, University of St Andrews) and various articles within the field of terrorism studies and was Assistant Editor of the academic journal Terrorism and Political Violence from 2002–2005. Chris Ryder is one of Northern Ireland’s top freelance journalists, writing regularly for the Sunday Times and Irish Times and was previously the Ireland correspondent for the Daily Telegraph. He is a regular broadcaster on radio and television and has written several books on Northern Ireland including two on the police – The Fateful Split (Methuen: London, 2004) and The RUC: A Force Under Fire (Methuen: London, 1989). M.L.R. Smith is Reader in War Studies, King’s College, University of London. Neil Southern is a lecturer in Politics at the University of Central Lancashire. He graduated with 1st class honours from The Queen’s University of Belfast with a BA in Politics (major) and Social Anthropology (minor) and was awarded the Lemberger-Mettrick Prize for Politics. He completed his PhD at Queen’s University in the School of Politics. Paul Wilkinson is Professor of International Relations and Chairman of the Advisory Board of the Centre for the Study of Terrorism and Political Violence, University of St Andrews.

1

Introduction James Dingley

The aim of this book is to explore what lessons can be drawn from the Northern Ireland conflict in terms of combating terrorism. The implication is that internationally applicable counter-terrorism lessons can be drawn from Northern Ireland and terrorism successfully combated. This immediately raises the old problem of defining terrorism, which will be addressed later since it has important implications for successful counter-tactics. Further, it also raises questions as to what exactly underpins the conflict in Northern Ireland, hence a whole chapter is devoted to that alone. Questions of both terrorism and the nature and causes of the Northern Ireland conflict are legitimate, since they go to the heart of what kind of strategy and tactics are relevant in combating terrorism and thus how transferable lessons are. Indeed, one criticism of the state in Northern Ireland has been its lack of ability to clearly define the core problem it confronted, e.g. was it dealing with religious conflict or ethnic/national conflict? An internal UK conflict or an inter-Irish one? Answers to these questions have serious implications for tactics and strategy both in the political and security force spheres. However, the security response in itself has been reasonably clearly focused. Both the Army and police clearly recognised they confronted a terrorist threat, primarily from the Provisional IRA. Security folk have simple minds, sharply focused by someone trying to kill them and consequently have a relatively unerring instinct as to what their immediate problem is. Indeed, part of their remit is simply to focus on things such as immediate threats to law and order, public safety and the protection of life and leave the politics to others. To stay alive and to fulfil their remit they need to quickly analyse their threat and respond to it effectively, i.e. things that work, which may not always please the liberal civilian conscience or the hardline armchair warrior. Hence, as will be clear from several contributors, the security response has often been better focused than the political. This is a theme that re-emerges in several chapters in one way or another, whether it is emotional disengagement from the rest of Britain concerning Northern Ireland or the state’s semi-detached attitude to the Province; there has often been a lack of focus from the residing government to match the security forces. The ambiguous attitude of the UK to ‘its province’ and its deliberate

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desire to distance itself from its governance from 1921 onwards has been a constant factor in the ongoing troubles, not just now but in sporadic campaigns by the IRA ever since the 1920s. Lack of full engagement has meant lack of knowledge as well as a lack of commitment that may have encouraged terrorism and has led to an almost perpetual security threat that has necessitated the deployment of armed police and the Army on a regular basis. This in itself may be an important political lesson, the need for a very unambiguous state that directly involves itself in and exercises direct responsibility over all of its sovereign territory. However, by and large the counter-terrorist campaign of the security forces in Northern Ireland has been successful, and for this reason alone Northern Ireland should be worth studying by all those interested in counter-terrorism. It has been successful in the light of the fact that the main protagonist – Provisional IRA (PIRA) – effectively accepted defeat when it entered into talks culminating in the Belfast Agreement, 1998. This is not to say that the ‘troubles’ are over or that Northern Ireland’s problems are solved (several contributors would have severe doubts about that) but to make the point that the security forces were successful in defeating terrorism and could successfully hand the terrorists over to the politicians. ‘Peace’ and the peace process are thus primarily due to the security forces and that is a point that should be strongly made both out of fairness to them and to draw adequate lessons. One point of interest does emerge here, which at least one contributor brings out, in terms of the different concepts that government and security forces had of their roles, which was whether the point was to defeat terrorism or to bring terrorists into politics. Definitions of success or failure may also hinge on this and so must be taken into account, especially if the terrorists see themselves playing a very long game and simply envisage politics as the ‘pursuit of war by other means’ to invert Clausewitz’s famous dictum. This may also help explain the less than euphoric attitude of several contributors to the peace process as a whole and also certain reservations as to just how successful the political dimensions of combating terrorism have been. But since the main (but not sole) concern of this volume is with the security forces response to terrorism these are probably arguments better left to other places. However, one aspect of the political dimension is very pertinent to the security situation, since it impacts directly on both the causes and responses to terrorism, and is directly referred to by several contributors, which is the attitude of the state itself to Northern Ireland. There is an ambiguity here on the part of the state as to Northern Ireland’s true position within the nation-state (UK) that not only impacts upon the attitude of the local population to the state but also upon the legitimacy of the state’s security forces. This was reflected in the state declaring that the UK had no strategic or selfish interests in Northern Ireland (Downing Street Declaration, 1993). This was very unsettling for Unionists (their state should have an interest in them) but comforting for Republicans (the UK state was not committed to its own citizens and territory). As such this attitude could help feed Republican (terrorist) motivation while also unsettling state supporters (making them less inclined to compromise and less trusting of

Introduction

3

government). In addition it could also pose questions for the legitimacy and morale of the security forces acting on behalf of the state in Northern Ireland. Consequently, it could be argued that it fed the insecurity of the local population and so helped fan the flames of the security problem. Even when ‘mainland’ politicians became directly involved in running the Province (direct rule, 1972) few could claim any first hand knowledge or interest in the Province, several contributors take up the point of lack of knowledge and interest in Northern Ireland by the rest of the UK, which can severely hamper effective political direction of security responses to terrorism. However, these are general points that underlie the immediate security problem and response but which form an important background to the specific responses of the security forces since they are bound to affect them. It is on the more specific responses that one must concentrate here and the key lessons learnt from 37 years of the ‘troubles’.

Key lessons A major lesson to come out of this book is the continual emphasis on nonviolent operations (‘soft power’) – shooting terrorists did not work, in fact it often had the opposite effect to deterrence. This is a vital tactical and strategic lesson for all security forces. What defeated the terrorist was prevention not just of terrorist incidents but any incidents, violence of any kind, bloodshed or bombs going off anywhere. It was better to get forewarning of a terrorist operation and swamp an area with security forces, so causing the terrorists to call off their operations than it was to shoot them or even arrest them (probably provoking shoot outs or confrontations). This demoralised the terrorist organisations and led to their internal decay and collapse of morale since they found themselves unable to do anything. What caused this was not psychological but sociological and anthropological and relates to the complex social processes and messages that evolve around terrorism, ethno-nationalism, religion and the specific ideological baggage they utilise, which were all played out in Northern Ireland. Put briefly, terrorism succeeds when it can evoke a communal response from the terrorists own community and this works via playing on often unthought out but shared cultural messages that play on a cultural group’s myth-symbol complex. Most important here is the role of blood sacrifice and suffering (martyrs) in the cultural mythsymbol package (central to most nationalisms and religions). In many cultures the shedding of blood evokes a strong positive emotional response that consequently works important cultural mechanisms that send cultural messages that in turn affect the emotional state of those sharing a culture and so affects their attitudes and behaviour both socially and politically. If one can deny the bloodshedding image, which the security forces did, there is no cultural message to communicate.1 Most importantly here, one is actually arguing that a primary target of the terrorist is not just the enemy but their own community. They are sending emotive,

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culturally specific messages of sacrifice and suffering that will recall members of their own community to collective ideals and goals (as well as repelling nongroup members). Here one only has to think of the role of martyrs in any religion to see how the process works; and martyrs gain eternal life in paradise and are revered in their own communities of believers and act as an inspiration to them.2 ‘Hard’, mass retaliatory actions and other conventional military responses actually play into the terrorist hands, because they increase the bloodshed and suffering and up the emotional ante and sense of martyrdom, which is why terrorists often goad the security forces into over-reaction against their own community. Low-level, non-violent responses (‘soft power’) and the long game were key factors in defeating terrorism in Northern Ireland simply by undermining the terrorists’ purpose from within. This became the key to counterterrorism, strongly emphasised in the chapters on the Army, police and intelligence. Another major feature is the emphasis on ‘low tech’ tactics and the almost routine policing nature of operations, indeed police primacy was a key feature since they had the requisite skills (terrorism is political crime and so needs to be responded to as essentially crime) and represented normality (armies quickly become identified as abnormal occupiers). Keeping a low profile helped reduce the sense of threat and incursion into daily life, it offered fewer targets for the terrorist, fewer causes for resentment from their supporters and helped maintain an air of normality that terrorism tries to undermine. Part of the definition of terrorism is its attempt to disrupt normality and to create a sense of an abnormal threat and so disruption and panic, even war has its normal rules and order. Consequently, by not responding in a disruptive way one helps undermine the terrorist and their impact. An important aspect of this was also the emphasis on the rule of law, normal due process and police primacy, the Army was merely there to support the civil authority not usurp it. Of course for the terrorist this was something they opposed and tried to undermine, which was where their political fronts came in so useful. Sinn Féin became most adept at ‘managing’ the news (spin) and the government never really got to grips with it. In directly combating terrorism both the Army and police chapters emphasise strongly the junior ranks role at the forefront of the campaign and hence the importance of good training for them and the role of intelligence as the key to all counter-terrorist operations, especially if they were to be preventative and low key. The bulk of intelligence came from ordinary foot patrols, vehicle check points and routine observations. In effect good policing by local ‘coppers’ who knew their beat was the front line. The second front was being able to collate and analyse all the information gained and so process it into intelligence, from here they could utilise technology when they had clearly focused targets to track and survey. In addition, ordinary patrols led by Army corporals or police constables not only provided intelligence but also helped to deny territory to the terrorist. Constant patrolling upped the risk for terrorist movement, the increased chance of being spotted in the wrong place or in the process of an operation. It was not glamorous and would make a bad action film but was highly effective.

Introduction

5

What also helped enormously was that the terrorists support was often limited to specific areas and a minority of the population as a whole. Unionists and Protestants (the majority) were almost 100 per cent hostile to the PIRA and Loyalist terrorists rarely scored more than 2–4 per cent of the popular vote. Meanwhile, Catholics and Nationalists had a more ambiguous attitude to terrorism. Sinn Féin now get around 26 per cent of the vote, in the 1980s this was around 10 per cent, but many Catholics loathed the IRA without being enamoured of the Unionist state and a significant proportion, around 20 per cent would actually support the UK state. But outside of hard line Republican areas overt support for terrorism was low and this significantly helped the security forces gain information, intelligence and a regular supply of local recruits. Local recruits were vital for both the police (RUC) and Army (UDR/RIR) since they represented a normality, had the commitment that goes with defending their own homes and the intimate local knowledge on which good intelligence is built (for this reason alone they were always prime targets for PIRA attacks and propaganda). Thus they also assisted soft power techniques by utilising that knowledge to prevent incidents in the first instance and by being a local presence for other locals to deal with. And when targeted by the terrorists it helped produce an image of the terrorist as the prime threat to local civil liberties and the source of violence and oppression, thus supplies of information and support for the security forces was maintained, even if it was just lack of cooperation with terrorists. In military terms the security forces were very good at denying the terrorists the territory to operate on or a popular sympathy to feed off and so destroying their internal morale and will to continue. This was much aided by the security forces skill in being able to ‘turn’ or ‘plant’ informers in the terrorist organisations (a key factor in defeating terrorism), which had a tremendously destabilising effect upon them and greatly reduced their morale and operational capability. However, one could almost say that in political terms the opposite was the case. Sinn Féin were often able to operate and dominate the political landscape and even operate some of their own informers in a way that was sometimes demoralising for constitutional politicians of all persuasions, hence an entire chapter on political fronts and another on the role of government.

Defining terrorism and the PIRA’s terrorism Defining terrorism is a linguistic minefield. However, just because something is difficult it does not mean it is impossible, similarly definitions may raise points of ambiguity but that does not mean that there is not a core phenomenon at work. So it is with terrorism. In international law terrorism is recognised as a distinct category precisely because it defies the normal rules of war and engagement, such as wearing recognisable uniforms or insignia or bearing arms openly. Certainly all war involves a degree of ‘terror’ and a violence way beyond that exercised by any terrorist group, however, precisely because of the terrible affects of war and modern violence, civilisations have attempted to restrict and

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control it via rules and laws, hence the recognition of civilian and noncombatant rights and status; formal chains of command and authority to hold combatants formally and openly accountable for their actions: combatants cannot just make up their own rules as they go along. This is precisely what is missing in terrorism and helps give it its peculiar feature,3 and was the situation in Northern Ireland – it was not war but terrorism. Terrorism is unaccountable and unpredictable violence, following unknown rules and defying all conventions on the use of violence. As such it is also a defiance of all that has been built up under the concept of civilisation and civilised society. And it is interesting to note that most terrorist movements represent ideologies that would specifically reject the basic legal rational canons of modern civilisation, of rule of law, with formal processes and procedures to govern the complex sets of relations that make it possible for modern men to survive in their crowded and sophisticated urban settings. Civilisation is built on rules and laws, specifically of a legal rational nature, governing social relations that try to bind all people in to a single set of binding relations that enable them to interact effectively and non-violently on a daily basis. Legal rational is important in that it takes as its model the scientific paradigm on which industrial society is also built (industry – the appliance of science). Science is law bound, verifiable, open to testing and objective verification and the great child of the Enlightenment. However, most terrorist movements reject the Enlightenment and utilise the ideology of the Romantic reaction against it and Irish Republicanism is no different. Romantics specifically rejected science as dead and soulless, its legal rational norms as inhibiting the spirit and free expression and also opposed industrial society as unnatural. Romantics wanted a return to Arcadian idylls, peasant life, spontaneity, emotional being and expression unconstrained by artificial (Enlightenment) civilisation – the cultural enemy. The most important thing for Romantics was freedom of the spirit and emotional expression and the greatest emotional expression of all was violence, the ultimate unconstrained freedom of being. Violence, suffering, struggle (Sturm und Drang) and sacrifice were key values4 and terrorism became its means of expression, almost as an end in itself since expression was being. Terrorist groups from ETA, the IRA, Animal Rights to Islamic fundamentalists all have this key theme of an essentially Romantic rejection of Enlightenment values and culture.5 What is sought, and Irish Republicanism was quite overt in this,6 was the return to an idealised, pre-Enlightenment past based on ‘natural’ values, order and traditional religion, where violence and blood sacrifice played key cultural roles, which the Enlightenment overturned. Terrorism thus becomes both a means and an end in itself and almost glories in its own mindlessness as true expression and being in itself, while also sending a subliminal and inspirational message to other members of the religio-cultural group via a blood-sacrifice metaphor to throw off the artificial constraints of civilisation. It attacks the civilised values of the Enlightenment world, which it deliberately sets out to defy almost as an end in itself and regards its victims as

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mere incidentals to its cause (greater than the individual). This is what gives terrorism its specific characteristic, its rejection of modern civilised norms and culture which most other forms of warfare attempt to make some reference to upholding, e.g. via the Geneva Convention or UN Charter. This is why it is important to understand the socio-cultural dynamics that make ‘soft power’ work and also why the chapter on the background to Northern Ireland lays stress on the lack of objective differences between Protestants and Catholics. It was subjective socio-cultural factors that produced the divisions in Northern Ireland and that fed the PIRA’s terrorism, hence to defeat them one had to defeat the socio-cultural message. Civilisation implied restraint based on reason and objective criteria. But Romantic violence was mediated only by the emotional need to express (anger, frustration, inability to cope, etc.) it did not demand any reference to legal rational norms or justification via external, objective criteria. Oppression was not measured by economic indices, legal rights, open job markets or other objective measures but by subjective states of mind (emotions and feelings) and if these cannot be satisfied then the ‘natural and authentic’ recourse is to violence on their terms, not on any objective or internationally recognised terms, hence the severe criticism Romanticism received from philosophers from Russell to Berlin.7 Hence terrorism acquires its unique quality because it cannot be formally ‘legally rationalised’ (pace Max Weber8) or its causes objectively quantified, nor can its reasons and rationale be analysed via the normal rational canons of civilisation. Terrorism becomes a function of the terrorists own subjective state of mind and emotional needs, not objective factors comprehensible to outsiders or victims: if it became rationally comprehensible it would lose its terrorist nature. Thus with the ‘troubles’ in Northern Ireland: when studied objectively Catholics appeared no worse off than Protestants in material terms, there was a free and open press and elections (accusations of gerrymandering were restricted to isolated local authorities and not local government as a whole or Stormont and Westminster elections). The jobs market tended to work via informal relations and so each side tended to self-recruit over generations in particular industries. Indeed Catholics and Protestants showed a marked inclination not to mix and preferred to keep it that way (which also helps to explain problems over housing allocation), and originally the police (RUC) reserved 33 per cent of places for Catholics but could never fill the quota.9 Attempts at integrated education were rejected by both sides. The ‘troubles’ in Northern Ireland has always primarily been about Catholic versus Protestant with the IRA recruiting exclusively from the Catholic population. Hence an important lesson lies in understanding not just Northern Ireland’s particular dynamics but the socio-cultural forces behind terrorism in general, to understand both root causes and why certain tactics work and others don’t. ‘Soft power’ worked in Northern Ireland because it did not play into the hands of the relevant Romantic socio-cultural appeal of the terrorists, which ‘hard power’ or purely legal rational approaches would have done by providing

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blood sacrifices and emotive trauma. Thus they denied the terrorists, who could always turn any incident no matter how legally rationally justified into an act of imperialist oppression, opportunities to play upon blood sacrifice myths and suffering at the core of their Romantic culture. This is not to deny that there were objective problems as well, there always are where two different cultures have to share a common territory, but objective problems can be measured, bargained over and rationally resolved. It is the emotional and subjective problems deeply rooted in different cultures that cannot be resolved, cause emotional frustrations and become the basis for terrorism. It is this aspect that becomes so important in defining and responding to terrorism: it provides a mystique that takes violence beyond rational comprehension and so adds a terrible dimension to conflicts and makes conventional military responses highly problematic. The security forces ability to successfully combat terrorism thus lay in preventing violence in the first instance via a policy of prevention, mastery of terrorist tactics and technology, minimum force, rule of law, controlling territory and a denial of the emotional factors terrorism feeds off. Behind this lay good training, especially for junior commanders, and intelligence, particularly the role of human sources. Another point in particular, always made most forcefully by members of Special Branch interviewed over the years was the importance of security force education; not just in technical skills or in operating systems but from a much more generic perspective of getting well qualified graduates in the arts, humanities and social sciences who could understand political ideologies, social processes, cultures, emotive expression and past historical experiences and so evaluate and predict terrorist mind sets and future courses of action, who could get inside the minds of terrorists and empathise with them and so evaluate information and turn it into intelligence. A lesson that currently seems to be being re-learnt as US forces recruit anthropologists and related disciplines to embed in combat groups in Iraq and Afghanistan.10 This latter point alone makes pertinent the lessons of Northern Ireland as terrorist tactics and strategies are adopted throughout the Middle East, where they will succeed or fail largely due to the responses of the security forces. The scale of the problem in Iraq may be bigger but the principles of response are not that different from Northern Ireland and it was with that partly in mind that the particular chapters were chosen and edited. The actual structure of the book should thus be read around this core concern with soft power and socio-cultural analysis of terrorism, different chapters linking into this core theme while not explicitly referring to them, the actual sequence of chapters being less significant.

Notes 1 James Dingley and Michael Kirk-Smith (2002) ‘Symbolism and sacrifice in terrorism’, Small Wars and Insurgencies, 13:1, pp. 102–128. James Dingley and Marcello Mollica (2007) ‘The human body as a terrorist weapon: hunger strikes and suicide bombers’, Studies in Conflict and Terrorism, 30:6, pp. 459–492. 2 Note 6, Dingley and Mollica.

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3 Frank Hagan (1997) Political Crime, Ideology and Criminality, Boston: Allyn and Bacon. Leslie Green (2000) The Contemporary Law of Armed Conflict, Manchester: Manchester University Press. 4 Isaiah Berlin (2000) The Roots of Romanticism, London: Pimlico. Isaiah Berlin, (1999) The Crooked Timber of Humanity, London: Fontana. Elie Kedourie (1993) Nationalism, Oxford: Blackwell. Liah Greenfield (1993) Nationalism, Five Roads to Modernity, Harvard: Harvard University Press, chapter 4. 5 Of great importance here is the symbolic attitude to science, which is very under developed in Islam – Economist, 7 June 2006; New Scientist, 26 April 2003. In Ireland science was almost the sole preserve of the Unionist/Protestant community – Peter Bowler and Nicholas Whyte (1997) Science and Society in Ireland, 1800–1950, Belfast: Institute of Irish Studies. Greenfeld, note 4, shows specifically how Romanticism came to reject science and modernity. 6 Terence Brown (1981) Ireland: A Social and Cultural History, 1922–1979, Glasgow: Fontana. 7 Note 4. Bertrand Russell (1996) History of Western Philosophy, London: Routledge. 8 Max Weber (1964) The Theory of Social and Economic Organisation, New York: Free Press. 9 Paul Bew, Henry Patterson and Paul Teague (1997) Between War and Peace, the Political Future of Northern Ireland, London: Lawrence & Wishart. Paul Teague (ed.) (1993) The Economy of Northern Ireland, London: Lawrence & Wishart, chapter 5. Tom Gallagher and James O’Connell (eds) Contemporary Irish Studies, Manchester: Manchester University Press, chapter 1. 10 See Chronicle of Higher Education. Advertised faculty posts for such positions have frequently appeared during 2007.

2

Northern Ireland and the ‘troubles’ James Dingley

Northern Ireland has been engaged in an ongoing sectarian conflict and terrorist campaign since 1968. The main protagonist is/was the IRA, a terrorist group with a history going back to 1917, and before this in other guises. In 1970 the IRA split between the Official and Provisional wings and since then the Provisionals’ (PIRA) have been the main terrorist group. Other terrorist groups have existed, such as INLA, Real IRA and Continuity IRA on the Catholic/Nationalist side and they and their supporters are usually referred to as Republicans, denoting their hard line commitment to an all-Ireland Republic. On the Unionist/Protestant side there are the UFF, UFV and UDA and a variety of other minor groups, referred to as Loyalists (‘loyal’ to their fellow Protestants and what they regard as a covenant entered in to with their state).1 Loyalists, while often nasty and vicious do not pose a real threat to the state and, in security terms, are seen more as a policing problem. In effect the last 37 plus years have been about a terrorist campaign waged by the PIRA, to force the removal of Northern Ireland from the UK into an all-Ireland state. Whatever the specific grievances claimed to exist in Northern Ireland it is the demand for an allIreland state that is at the heart of the PIRA’s campaign. Northern Ireland is part of the UK, but had a history of internal self-rule since 1921. It has a population of just fewer than 1.7 million, of whom around 60 per cent are Protestant and 40 per cent are Catholic. The sectarian strife between the two religious groups, who tend to form separate, easily identifiable and exclusive communities, goes back for hundreds of years, most particularly amongst the working-class population.2 Almost all Protestants are Unionist in that they wish to remain part of the UK but the Catholics are more divided. A majority of Catholics support the idea (at least theoretically) of unification with the Republic of Ireland (97 per cent Catholic) but a substantial minority show greater reservations on the issue, 49 per cent indicate a preference to remain within the UK, predominantly Protestant.3

Players Political affiliation currently evolves around four main parties: the Ulster Unionist Party (UUP) was the traditional bastion of Unionism and had uninterrupted

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local power until 1972 when London took over internal government. They, currently, have slipped badly in terms of support and are now second to the Democratic Unionist Party (DUP) as representatives of Unionism; the latter are deemed more hardline and voted against the 1998 Belfast Agreement. Much of their increased support has reflected Unionist disillusionment with the Belfast Agreement, actively supported by the UUP, Unionists are not exclusively Protestant, although the DUP would be, many Catholics also support the Union, but have tended to support a fifth, overtly cross-religious, party – the Alliance, but their vote has recently slumped from highs of 10–11 per cent to around 5 per cent. Unionists identify themselves as British and maintain a cultural orientation that is largely English and Scottish.4 Politically Loyalists constitute less than 4 per cent of the current vote, and although built up by the government as a kind of counter-weight to Republican (Sinn Féin) terrorist politics is not a serious political force. Loyalist terror groups and their political representatives carry little popular weight. Indeed even Protestant communities tend to see them more as gangsters and racketeers – ‘hoods’.5 Catholic/Nationalism was traditionally represented by the Social Democratic and Labour Party, which claimed to represent social democracy and Labour, but in fact was always recognised as simply a nationalist party, indeed they largely subsumed an older Nationalist Party.6 They were seen as ‘soft’ nationalists, constitutional, for an all-Ireland state, but recognising it had little active support as an immediate objective amongst many Catholics (they never really attempted to woo Protestants). And while they supported Gaelic culture it was not a major platform for them. Until the early 1980s the SDLP dominated Nationalist politics but have recently been superseded by Sinn Féin, the political wing of the PIRA.7 Sinn Féin come under the direct control of the PIRA’s Army Council (the PIRA and Sinn Féin are technically two different organisations, but actually utilise the same personnel at the same time under the same ruling ‘Army Council’) and since the Hunger Strikes of 1981 their electoral support has risen from less than 2 per cent to 24 per cent, having followed a strategy of the ‘Armalite and ballot box’, i.e. combining terrorism with political campaigning.8 They are normally referred to as Republicans and do not accept the legitimacy of the state as such. They regard their violence as legitimate and often refer to the UK as an occupying power exercising a colonial presence in Ireland. Lack of majority support is no argument against them since they regard themselves as pure guardians of an inalienable right to an all-Ireland state. Inevitably they are exclusively Catholic with a strong commitment to Gaelic culture and identity as representing true Irishness.9 Those looking for an easy left wing/right wing divide will be disappointed. Organised Labour was almost wholly Protestant and Unionist, even having its own Unionist organisations.10 But socialism was not popular with them. Additionally Marxists (like the Official IRA, later the Workers Party and BICO – British and Irish Communist Organisation) of whom there were few in Northern

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Ireland, tended to support partition as a reflection of reality. They also recognised that all workers were materially better off as part of the UK. Nationalists have appropriated the rhetoric of social democracy and Republicans have appropriated the rhetoric of socialism (but usually carefully draw a line at Marxism, although happy to appear Marxist to ignorant outside left wing sympathisers). In fact both are really quite conservative, even reactionary in ideological terms.11 Nationalists’ socialism has more to do with Catholic social teaching and appeals to traditional peasant communalism and this is shown in the way they always avoid disputes with the Catholic Church and carefully keep ‘on side’ theologically.12 Individuals may pick bits out of Marx but it is always moulded into a distinct Catholic frame first and then placed only in the context of achieving Nationalist aims. An all-Ireland state is their main ideology, an ethnic national one that invariably ends up evoking reactionary ideals of anti-modernity. Only in this sense are they anti-capitalist, i.e. anti modern industrial capitalism, but it also, consequently, makes them anti-socialist and this was clearly seen in the Republic of Ireland where Catholic social and economic teaching became the norm once Irish Republicanism was established and a peasant-proprietor economy (founded around private peasant ownership and small town private business) was established.13 Unionists are best thought of as very conservative ‘liberals’ while Nationalists almost represent a reactionary critique of modernity, given a superficial gloss of radicalism. This in turn has created a conundrum for all nationalists in the rise of the Celtic Tiger in the Republic of Ireland, which has meant the Republic eschewing everything that Irish nationalism always stood for (effectively admitting that Irish nationalism was a failure) as it went for modernisation and economic growth. Consequently this in turn has led to the ‘new’ Republic, especially the elite living in Dublin 4, becoming the target of traditional Nationalist ire, as not really Irish and a betrayal. Of course its success has also posed problems for Unionists who had always sneered at the backward Republic and now find themselves defending a de-industrialised economic wasteland in Northern Ireland.14 In terms of social and economic policy there is virtually none from any party: the partition of Ireland and the sectarian divide provide almost the sole basis for politics. Unionists support the welfare legislation of the UK and state subsidies more as a matter of principle of parity with the rest of the UK than out of ideology, thus emphasising their Britishness and have no ideological commitment to it. Nationalists and Republicans just accept it as part of their grievance culture, wherein, seeing themselves as having been oppressed for hundreds of years by Britain they are entitled to take anything they can get in return. Meanwhile, social and economic thought as policy, principle or ideology is virtually nonexistent in any of the main parties, or outside of them. The ‘troubles’ are thus primarily about (ethnic) nationalism, which nationstate Northern Ireland (the Province) should belong to, the UK or Republic of Ireland – it is quite simple. Meanwhile, since the Belfast Agreement (1998) the two communities have become increasingly polarised. If there is a class division

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it is that the Unionist party and SDLP represent the more middle-class elements of their communities and the DUP and Sinn Féin the working-class. But even this is a bit of a crude distinction.15 As with most ethnic nationalism religion plays a key role.16 The Catholic Church exercises hegemony over its flock that is quite extensive. It controls its own schools as well as being the centre for most sports and social activities in its community, which emphasise a distinct Catholic and Gaelic cultural ethos that acts both formally and informally to exclude Protestants and Unionists. It is also, informally but very strongly, the centre for its own local economy and system of jobs and political patronage. Further, the Catholic Church and all its associated activities are part of an all-Ireland network of relations and organisation that centre on Dublin and invoke a nationalist vision of Ireland as a whole.17 The majority Protestant population is divided between Presbyterians and Church of Ireland (Anglicans) with a large number of small, schismatic sects and independent churches whose congregational numbers are quite small.18 Presbyterianism is the largest Protestant denomination and many of the small sects are splinters from them and it has always been overwhelmingly Ulster based and orientated toward Scotland. Anglicans belong to part of an all Ireland organisation, but whose main strength now lies in Ulster. Ulster also constituted a distinct industrial economy, separate from the rest of Ireland. Thus Protestants tend to be almost exclusively Ulster focused and their organisation centres upon Belfast as the Provincial economic and political capital. Due to their divisions Protestants have always been less homogenous and only found unity in the Orange Order, an exclusively Protestant organisation, based in Belfast that performed a kind of umbrella co-ordinating system akin to that of the Catholic Church. The Orange Order also plays a central role in the social, economic and political life of Protestants, who, in their Presbyterianism, reflect their strong association with Scottish Calvinism.19 Religious commitment and identity is very strong for everyone and can often be taken very literally and seriously. Also, because of the socio-economic role it plays it often controls important life-chances that are associated with religious affiliation and loyalty.20 In turn, this is reinforced by the small communities that dominate life in Northern Ireland, in which the Churches are often a dominant local force.21 This has meant that religion and politics have been and continue to be strongly interwoven on all sides. Northern Ireland was often referred to as an Orange State because of the strong association between the Orange Order, Unionism and its dominance of government here. However, the ties between Catholicism and Nationalism are just as strong and an independent southern Ireland rapidly became a Green (Catholic) State.22 While Protestantism and State rapidly became equated in Northern Ireland so did Catholic Nationalism and opposition to the State. However, for the Catholic Church it was always a bit more complicated, its support for nationalism was always dependent upon an acceptance of primarily Catholic leadership and the maintenance of Catholic principles and social doctrine. In this it has often found itself at odds with more radical Nationalists, such as Republicans, who tended to

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challenge its control over local Catholic communities. This has become more marked over the last 30 years and could be quite disturbing for a Catholic Church that had evolved a reasonable working relationship with the State. The Church’s relationship with Republican violence has thus often been slightly ambiguous, condemning it but understanding it, as it tried to maintain its position within its community (which often strongly sympathised with antistate/Protestant violence).23 The Church wanted to be its community’s sole representative and controller, but it also needed to maintain a credible position in constitutional terms as the recipient of large amounts of state funding to run its own schools and other facilities. Internally there were often more cross currents to navigate, politically, than in the more heterogeneous Protestant community. Protestants did not have similar problems, since a Unionist government dominated the State and Protestant/Unionist interests de facto became the State’s. Violence was more easily condemned since it was directed mainly against them and for ends they were opposed to. Class antagonisms were more of a problem for Unionism, where a strong labour movement was always wary of a Unionist hierarchy that was mostly professional middle-class and entrepreneurial capitalist. Thus uneasy class alliances often dominated Unionism with organised labour demanding privileges in return for their continued support of Unionism’s elite.24 An equivalent Catholic professional and entrepreneurial middle-class was less conspicuous within Nationalism, any equivalent tending to support the Union (‘Castle Catholics’).25 These were the players and forces that dominated life in Northern Ireland (even Ireland as a whole) from the nineteenth century to the present day. In many ways not much has changed in 200 years. Since its inception in 1921 Northern Ireland has largely been content to settle down to a mutually agreed segregation between Catholic/Nationalism and Protestant/Unionism. At first some serious moves were made to include Catholics in to the State,26 but these were dropped almost by mutual consent and the Province settled down to a segregated and sectarian life, both sides defining their own space and territory. The result was that two worlds almost incomprehensible to the other emerged, with little contact and opposed interests and identity.27 Each eyed the other suspiciously and kept a constant eye open for infringements of its space. Nationalists kept up an anti-state rhetoric without ever having the political clout to do anything about it, while Unionists had control of the state but were always reminded of a Nationalist threat too big to ignore.

Analysing the ‘troubles’ To those not familiar with Northern Ireland the ‘troubles’ over the last 37 years seem something of a mystery, even the partition of Ireland appears a mystery to outsiders. Why should a small island of only around five million people be so divided and why should the one and a half million population of Northern Ireland be further divided? These, of course, are fundamental questions, and

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ones that go to the heart of many other conflicts around the world, the former Yugoslavia being a good example, with its bitter conflicts and divisions over the past 15 years, or the sectarian violence in Indonesia, Sri Lanka or the Basque Lands. Failure to answer these questions has often been at the heart of failing to resolve these conflicts either at the military or political level. Indeed, this alone makes Northern Ireland a worthy case study, since its dynamics appear to follow such similar lines with the protagonists in many of the other conflicts often linking up to exchange knowledge on tactics and strategy, both military and political.28 In addition the IRA has often been regarded as the trend-setter for modern terrorism from which others learn. Any effort to draw out lessons from Northern Ireland depends heavily on understanding the forces and dynamics behind the conflict, something which the UK government frequently appears unable to do. To an extent this is understandable since local politicians and commentators themselves often seem unable to define the problem; the same applies to many academics, few being able to agree on either the root causes or the solution to the Province’s troubles. Part of the problem lies in the community orientation of many academics, more concerned to be spokesmen for ‘their’ communities.29 Another problem has been the fashion for post-modernity, which claims equality for all narratives (i.e. cultures and cultural interpretation of events wherein any attempt at a single dominant narrative/interpretation is rejected as oppressive and culturally imperialist).30 This latter point is of great importance, since it tends to deny ideas of an objective analysis and interpretation for one of the equality of differences and that each person or group’s reality and interpretation is of equal validity and therefore should be given equal importance. Further, it enshrines, as a virtue, varieties and differences of culture and interpretation and thus denies the moral validity of a single interpretation, culture or narrative, on which cohesive nations and states are founded, indeed, is it is the basis of nation building.31 This makes attempts at objective analysis very difficult and makes policy development for government even more so, apart from vague ideas of multi-culturalism, tolerance and mutual understanding. This in turn tends to reduce politics and policy down to the level of individual attitudes of mind and exhortation, which, in fact, is largely what has occurred in the Province.32 A further problem here is that ideals of objectivity in Northern Ireland (and Ireland) are largely confined to the Protestant/Unionist culture.33 This has become the basis for what is known as the ‘revisionist debate’ in Irish history and studies. Revisionism was originally the product of historians in the Irish Republic who carried out detailed research using primary source data such as archives, documents, police and government records and interviews with witnesses to events. The result of this was the questioning of many of the sacred canons of Irish Nationalism, particularly suggesting that Ireland was not nearly as badly governed when it was part of the United Kingdom as was made out by traditional Irish Nationalists who sought independence from it.34 Further, that the nationalist movement was more of a smokescreen for a particular economic interest in Ireland that may well have done a disservice,

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materially, to the majority in the Republic. Defenders of traditional nationalism in turn have tried to defend their project not so much on the objective level of the revisionists but by stressing the emotional and subjective experience of nationalists. This in turn links up with a long established cultural divide, still very strong, in which science and engineering are key features of the Unionist culture, while the arts and humanities are key areas of Nationalist culture (at least until the Celtic Tiger of the 1990s). Nearly every scientist of any eminence in Irish history was a Unionist and Protestant, meanwhile Irish Catholic education was based on scholastic philosophy (anti-science).35 We thus have a situation in which post-modernism places the objective and subjective on the same level, using terms such as multi-culturalism, pluralism and parity of esteem to do so, all of which have become the key ideas behind government policy in the Province.36 This is probably why so much confusion reigns over the analysis of the Province and its troubles. And why no solution appears imminent (despite power-sharing governments, see note 15) and reconciliation between the conflicting factions is as far off as ever; there is no agreed narrative and everyone is left to battle it out for themselves. Indeed, the Belfast Agreement, hailed as such a great breakthrough at the time as a permanent and lasting settlement, was firmly built around the principles of parity of esteem and multi-culturalism,37 which now seems to imply total segregation. Added to which the ‘troubles’ have also become a good living for many who have a vested interest, even if unwittingly, in keeping the pot boiling and not defining a solution. Not only did politicians and academics find the ‘troubles’ useful, but also the burgeoning security industry (private firms, police and Army). The wonderful copy the ‘troubles’ provided for the media and academics. Mainland politicians may have been fed up with the Province (and its enormous cost), but most of the local ‘players’ and activists were not. The ‘troubles’ made a small and relatively insignificant Province a big player in national and international affairs and the source of massive public funding and personal status: ‘why else bother with Northern Ireland?’ The Province has almost become its own industry, evidenced by tourist bus trips around the trouble spots.38 Thus confusion reigns both as to what Northern Ireland is all about and what any final solution (which power-sharing has not achieved) would entail. Another reason for this is that so much analysis and debate on the Province has taken place in a theoretical vacuum, as though Northern Ireland is unique. The volumes of research conducted have mostly been empirical studies, surveys, questionnaires and opinions or statements of intent/desire and grievance from vested interests, rather than analysis. This is reflected in the number of books such as Explaining Northern Ireland or Interpreting Northern Ireland,39 which give accurate breakdowns of population, religious attendance, age, segregation, employment statistics, etc. and then go on to give a synopsis of the different political parties and terrorist groups positions and policy. This they do quite well and it makes very good record; sometimes they even go on to make some critical assessment of the different political positions and their likelihood of success.

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But rarely does anyone venture to offer an analysis, unless they have a vested interest pushing its own agenda. Consequently, for government, there is a surprising lack of clear direction afforded to it from the policy development side, except exhortations for mutual tolerance. The increased polarisation between the two conflicting communities would suggest a failure.40 Government is usually left trying to balance competing and diametrically opposed interests and interpretations (claims of Irish Nationalism and British Unionism are simply incompatible since they aim for opposed State sovereignty) with no clear channel of its own to follow. One reason for the current vacuum of policy and direction (always a cause of conflict in itself as different groups compete to fill it) has been the lack of any good quality theoretical analysis of Northern Ireland. The closest one comes to it is probably the ‘revisionist Marxists’ who did manage to go beyond simple economic determinist interpretations to develop a more sophisticated model of two competing communities with their competing economic interests. This was made more complex by the fact that each community had its own internal class divisions, which was why no one party could ever produce an agreed position for its own community let alone the Province as a whole.41 But once again the focus tended to be internal, to Northern Ireland, even if bringing in an external theoretical context. They also implicitly supported a Unionist position, since they observed that in objective terms the vast majority were materially better off as part of the UK, whether Catholic or Protestant.42 In a way the lack of theory is not so puzzling. Traditional Irish nationalism, in its opposition to objective history is implicitly opposed to the idea of some objective theoretical analysis that would undermine its unique emotional emphasis on the subjective (suffering and sacrifice). Unionists then tend to an almost exact opposite in their attachment to an objectivity that often falls into a crude empiricism that rejects theory in itself. Unionist ideology tends to see just autonomous individuals acting out their own will, reflecting the emphasis that Presbyterian theology gives to individual salvation and finding the truth.43 This opposes the Nationalists’ Catholic theology of relatively uncritical and pious submission to the Church as the route to salvation and the truth.44 Theology acts as a substitute for social or political theory. Good theory, admittedly very difficult, especially in emotionally charged situations like Northern Ireland, is thus not only missing but often not missed since theology takes its place. Thus one tends to end up with either an emotionally charged Catholic/Nationalist statement of grievances, never to be remedied until there is Catholic/Nationalist rule or a set of empirical facts in a vacuum that deny the subjective validity of emotional Nationalism but provide little to take its place. However, when looked at from a good theoretical standpoint Northern Ireland does become quite intelligible. First, to anyone familiar with the modern political theory of nationalism and ethnicity both Ireland as a whole and Northern Ireland in particular seem comparatively uncomplicated. The conflict is a traditional ethno-nationalist one: all the major cleavages in the Province around religion, segregation, discrimination,

18 J. Dingley language, education, sports, living areas, jobs, economics or culture are fairly standard features one would expect to find, even the conflicting interpretations of the problems are standard ethno-nationalist ones. The nature and type of terrorist violence and inter-communal conflict is typical and can be seen to be replicated in Sri Lanka, the Basque Lands or throughout the former Yugoslavia. Understand the conflict as one of ethno-nationalism and one has a pretty clear picture of what is happening and what one could do to respond.45 Second, the ‘troubles’ of the Province also seem to bear out many of the insights of classical social theory, especially Marx, Weber, Durkheim and Tonnies. Their concerns for differences over religion, community and economy leading to social dislocation, change, problems of authority and legitimacy and the question of culture and consciousness, to mention but a few, are well reflected in Northern Ireland.46 However, theoretical analysis from these perspectives is almost non-existent. One could also add a lack of similar interest from philosophers; it is easy to note the different philosophic traditions represented in the opposing religious-political communities, most notably scholastic and Romantic philosophy (Nationalism) versus ‘modern’, Enlightenment philosophy (Unionism).47 Both led to different moral systems and evaluations and to different concepts of truth and reality, these in turn make cooperation and integration between the two almost impossible – two opposed moral systems and truths can’t coexist. And although the philosophic grounds of nationalism have been well examined in the literature,48 as a cause of violence and conflict, they rarely seem to be applied to Northern Ireland. However, the connection between social theory and ethno-national violence or even just ethnicity and nationalism, is equally rarely picked up. This is strange since the philosophical and religious origins of nationalism are very much the same as in classical social theory and sociology and nationalism both emerged as nineteenth-century responses to socio-economic change and development and the resulting political violence. As a classical social theorist, the problems of Northern Ireland thus seem very obvious and straightforward and merely serve to reinforce the theory of ethnicity and nationalism. But this then puts one in the category of maintaining a single narrative and truth that is at odds with multi-culturalism and parity of esteem. Perhaps this is one of the first major lessons from Northern Ireland, the need for clear analysis and understanding of the nature and causes of a conflict, even if it means coming down to one clear definition and taking a particular line, as long as it is based on objective analysis and empirical evidence.

Semi-detached government The role of the UK government in dealing with Northern Ireland has been referred to as minimalist.49 This refers to the attitude of the UK to the Province and is well illustrated in its declaration that it has no strategic or selfish interest there.50 This is a very strange thing to say about what is constitutionally part of the integral nation-state of the ‘United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern

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Ireland’. It reflects also a perceived attitude that the (UK) government would gladly rid itself of the Province, if only it could, and wants only minimal involvement and responsibility there. This in turn is reflected in the fact that since the inception of Northern Ireland in 1920, it was almost ignored by the central government in London.51 It was given its own internal government for all matters pertaining to the Province, none of the main UK parties (Labour, Liberal and Conservative) organised in the Province, until the Conservatives in the 1980s (even then only half-heartedly). People in Northern Ireland were even constitutionally barred from joining the Labour Party until the new millennium. And even now their numbers and organisation in the Province are minimal. This meant that when the ‘troubles’ became so severe that London had to take over (‘direct rule’, 1972) none of the national parties of government had any knowledge or experience of the Province. They had no departments able to research and develop serious policy, let alone politicians from the Province. Consequently, the government has been hampered by a lack of knowledge as well as interest and commitment. This has made them dependent on input and analysis from sources already identified as inadequate to pursue affairs they have no great interest in. This applies not just at party level but also at civil service level, since the Province had its own internal civil service that is still semi-autonomous, even under direct rule. And before direct rule London involvement in the Province consisted of a single office in the Home Office in London.52 Thus perhaps one official alone in Great Britain had any knowledge of Northern Ireland. Lack of clear understanding of the problem, let alone clear sighted policy analysis and implementation was consequently always lacking. At the centre of government there has thus been a vacuum of knowledge, understanding and commitment which has not only hampered policy but also ‘left the game wide open’ for all players and vested interests to pursue their own ends and compete to fill the vacuum. Meanwhile, the government has tried to stand back and act as an ‘honest broker’ between all the parties as they compete.53 In fact this actually becomes a form of self-denial of state authority and legitimacy (which depends on a single narrative and truth) and goes to the heart of the conflict and even makes it worse. Peaceful co-existence and the maintenance of law and order require there to be a single narrative for the state and nation and an unequivocal assertion of legitimate authority and a commitment to maintain it. If not state supporters feel insecure and thus unable to compromise, or even usurp their own government, while anti-state elements gain a sense of legitimacy and are encouraged in their opposition to the state (thus legitimising their violence). Further, the enmity of both sides is increased since the entire game is left open for all sides to battle it out between themselves on a regular basis to assert their views and will. Stable states need a firm and unambiguous commitment at all levels, honest brokerage between pro-and anti-state does not provide this (why not let the state remain neutral between criminals and the police?). Further, to act as an ‘honest broker’ in the way the government does biases the situation towards the anti-state elements, since it equates state with none,

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even anti-state. By acting as middle man the state is always open to the pressure of anti-state forces in upping the pressure and increasing the destabilising effect thus shifting any middle ground closer to their own extreme. Law-breakers can do what law-abiding citizens can’t. Moderation, the middle ground and toleration become tools for easy manipulation by extremists. It is like saying that both criminal and non-criminal have valid views and legitimate goals and compromise is that we all engage in armed bank robberies (a bit). The pro-state can never relax and anti-state will always have something to gain by destabilising the state and maintaining the conflict. Hence none of the terrorist groups in the Province are prepared to unequivocally halt their campaigns, merely go on ceasefire or suspend their campaigns. Even Republicans have only ‘stood down’ their armed wing and continue to maintain their potential and some arms54 and refuse to admit their past wrongs and so can continue to destabilise society and the state from a distance (or within), it only takes a small threat. Further, Republicans are still committed to their fundamentally anti-state politics and can destabilise the state by obstructive politics almost as well as by terrorism. An end to the conflict requires the closure of key issues and clearly defined parameters of toleration, yet these are left ambiguously open in Northern Ireland since opposed Nationalist and Unionist goals are left unresolved. Nationalists only have to win once, no one seriously thinks that the UK would take back the Province once it has left, thus Unionists can never relax and feel free to make real compromises in the face of an unending threat. Nationalists know that this helps maintain the divisions on which they feed and from which Republican violence gains its legitimacy. A simple lesson from Northern Ireland is thus: that no state can afford to be neutral or minimalist about its territory and the people it is responsible for. Indeed, it is the function of the state in modern nationalism to rule and govern, to impose law and order and to assert its legitimacy as sole authority and define what is tolerable. It is also the state’s function to assert its own identity as the only legitimate one, and not open to future bargaining if stability is to be maintained. Only this way does one get peaceful co-existence since everyone has to defer to the same consistent authority now and in the future and under the same rules. Northern Ireland’s problems may appear complex and Britain may feel that it has no vested interest in the Province, but the UK is the responsible authority and if it does not exercise its role then others will compete for it. Antistate elements will also find that they have enough knowledge and understanding to undermine government by displaying its ignorance and consequent inadequacy and thus further undermine the state while enhancing their counterclaims and further alienating state supporters.55 This is not to claim a right for dictatorial or authoritarian government (all government is the exercise of authority) it is merely to make a commonplace observation about the need for good, responsible government that has a handle on events, which the British government has often appeared to lack. Government gives an impression of being pulled along by events it does not comprehend and thus creates the openings for violence and conflict rather than

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resolution (in both senses). Lack of commitment combines with lack of knowledge to form a very destabilising mixture on the part of government that makes them a central problem in themselves.

A brief history of Northern Ireland Northern Ireland came into being in 1920 as a result of the partition of Ireland into two jurisdictions; it was based on the rump of the Irish province of Ulster (six of its nine counties). This followed on from the Irish Nationalist movement to secede the whole of Ireland from the UK, which was strongly resisted by the majority of the population of what now became Northern Ireland (loosely referred to as Ulster), who wished to remain part of the UK. Northern Ireland was then given its own Home Rule government, which was actually a compromise imposed upon them by the UK in the hope that by granting Northern and Southern Ireland their own Home Rule Parliaments they would find ways to cooperate and resolve their own internal Irish differences. This did not happen and in 1949 the south declared itself an independent Republic outside of even the Commonwealth. Meanwhile, Northern Ireland was reconfirmed as an integral part of the UK.56 This division merely confirmed the increased drift apart between north and south after 1920, culminating in the North’s full involvement in the Second World War as part of the UK, while the south remained neutral. In fact this was the culmination of differences going back over 400 years, even 1,500 years. A major error in nationalism is to mistake landmass or territory with nation. Ireland was only ever a single unit in geographical terms, nations are man made and artificial constructs and have no necessary correlation with land mass (Alaska and Hawaii are both detached from continental USA). However, there has always been a temptation to see Ireland as a single political unit simply because it is a single island – a big mistake (the island of Borneo contains many different national states). Even when the Norman’s conquered Ireland in the twelfth century and claimed it for the English Crown (with Papal support) it was essentially a set of competing petty kingdoms and chieftains, whose Northern territories had more in common with and closer links to Scotland than the rest of Ireland. And most of the local chieftains accepted the Anglo-Norman Crown.57 Ireland was always rebellious and the Tudors in the sixteenth century decided on a policy of planting settlers in Ireland to help pacify and modernise the country, also to introduce the Reformation to a Catholic society. This was followed by a more serious attempt at a Protestant Plantation in Ulster (mostly of Scots and English) in the seventeenth century. In turn this provided the basis for a Protestant majority in Ulster whereas the rest of Ireland remained predominantly Catholic.58 Outside of Ulster the rest of Ireland had a peasant Catholic population with a vernacular (Gaelic) culture. They were ruled over by a largely Protestant aristocratic and professional ruling class (the Ascendancy), mostly of Anglo-Scots origin and utilising English customs, language, law and government.

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The Ascendancy were exclusively Anglican (Church of Ireland) and controlled an Irish Parliament (subservient to London) as the only people allowed to vote or take seats in it – hence Ascendancy. In the late seventeenth century a series of Penal Laws disbarred all non-Anglicans from political and property rights in Ireland, but these were gradually lifted by the late eighteenth century, although complete Catholic emancipation (taking a seat in Parliament), throughout the UK, did not occur until 1829.59 Ulster was different in that it had not only a Protestant majority, but one that constituted an entire society of landlords, merchants, professionals, labourers, peasants and tenant farmers.60 Meanwhile a Catholic minority composed almost entirely of peasant tenants or labourers existed on its fringes. The situation was complicated by the fact that the majority of Ulster Protestants were not Anglicans but Presbyterians, who suffered under the same Penal Laws as Catholics.61 Presbyterians felt great resentment at Anglican supremacy and Ulster actually had a three-way split until the late nineteenth century when the fear of being dominated by Catholics (‘Rome Rule’) in a Nationalist Home Rule Ireland emerged. This forged a common Protestant interest in not becoming a minority in a Catholic country. This contrasted with the late eighteenth century, when a radical section of Presbyterians even tried to form common cause with Enlightened Catholics in the United Irishmen movement, but it ended up degenerating into sectarian violence.62 However, in 1800, the Irish Parliament was dissolved and Ireland was fully incorporated into a new United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland with a single Parliament in London. At this time all the major disabilities against Presbyterians were removed, but Catholics throughout the UK had to wait until 1829 before being able to enter Parliament. Ireland, fully incorporated into the UK on an equal basis with England, Scotland and Wales, emerged as a country whose population was two thirds to three quarters Catholic, but in Ulster it was two thirds Protestant. Meanwhile, the Anglican Ascendancy still dominated senior administrative posts and institutions in Ireland and remained the major landlord class throughout Ireland.63 Economically the south was essentially a traditional peasant society, backward and poverty stricken like most peasant societies, but Ulster was not. It experienced not only something of an agricultural revolution (i.e. rather than subsistence farming it had a commercial orientation, produced a surplus and farmed larger individual land holdings), but, crucially, also the only industrial revolution in Ireland.64 This tied Ulster in directly to the rest of the UK, where its main markets and sources of raw material and capital were. This also happened simultaneously with and as an extension of the industrial revolution in Britain. Thus Ulster developed direct links of economic dependency and exchange with Britain, on which its economy hinged, that the rest of Ireland did not.65 This, in addition to sharing with Britain a common sense of Protestantism, industrial culture and a shared language in English, made them feel very much part of the UK and British. Perversely it also helped make the rest of Ireland feel less British.

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Most travellers in pre-nineteenth century Ireland recognised an immediate difference between Ulster and the rest of Ireland when entering the Province, its neater lay-out, better roads, industriousness and self-assurance were all remarked upon.66 Now, as industrialisation progressed, a new dimension was added, that of large urban populations working in mills and factories that contrasted starkly with the rural peasant society of the South. However, Ulster industrialisation was almost exclusively a Protestant affair, Catholics only becoming involved as migrant labour competing with Protestant workers for jobs, thus helping to reduce wages by undercutting Protestant workers.67 It was not then unexpected to find that religious animosity, never far from the surface in Ireland, found a new and increased outlet in communal violence between Catholics and Protestants. The history of Ulster from the 1830s on is one of continued vicious and deadly sectarian riots that could last days on end.68 One product of this was that whole areas, job sectors, factories, housing districts became the preserve of one sect or the other as competition for jobs, space, resources, security and livelihood increasingly depended on belonging to a particular denomination and its own formal and informal networks of patronage and control. For many people in Ulster if you wanted to get on you had to do so via your church. And from the 1830s onwards both school and university education throughout Ireland became denominational, segregated and controlled by the feuding churches.69 The riots themselves, although often presented as almost mystical in their sectarian animosity have been found to coincide with times of economic insecurity and tension or political events, such as a slump in international shipping or the threat of Home Rule.70 In this sense a rational analysis can now see an economic or political rationale to the sectarianism and violence. Riots and attempts to exclude ‘other’ workers from economic resources such as jobs make quite rational sense in a competitive global economy, equally to force political opponents out of a territory when they constitute a threat to your national security or identity. This is a point overlooked in most of the literature, it is not mindless violence after all. Poverty stricken Catholic migrants who undercut Protestant wages and took their jobs were a rational threat, no matter how illiberal the sentiment. The same Catholics then posed a threat to ‘your’ national identity and sense of belonging by supporting Nationalism. A further aspect of industrialisation was the creation of an industrial and urban culture, in stark contrast to the peasant, rural culture of Gaelic/Catholic Ireland, the basis of Irish Nationalism.71 This contrast between industrial and pre-industrial culture was one of the foundations of classical sociology, emphasising how a different consciousness of self and society emerged in the modern industrial world. The technical and cognitive skills and knowledge required for advancement in industrial society were also different, so that only those with a modern scientific education and training would be able to command any but the most basic jobs in society.72 This helped greatly to disadvantage Catholics since the Catholic Church was vehemently opposed to modernity and science, which in Ireland and Britain were almost uniquely Protestant domains.73 Nearly 70 per

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cent of science school places in the whole of Ireland were found in Ulster and the overwhelming majority of skilled industrial workers were Protestant. Further, the language of international trade, modernisation and science was English, not Gaelic (the cultural centrepiece of Irish Catholic Nationalism).74 Meanwhile, after the traumatic experiences of the Famine (1845–1848) the Southern economy developed as a peasant-proprietor one, where Catholic middle men bought up ruined estates and either leased or sold them on to Catholic peasants. There now emerged a distinct economy of small farms (averaging around 30–50 acres) serviced by small rural towns that dominated Ireland outside of Ulster.75 This came about at a time when an international agricultural market was establishing itself with large ranches and wheat fields in the new world and colonies (e.g. Argentina, America and Australia) that often exceeded 100,000 acres. Their economies of scale and modern industrial methods of farming combined with modern transport (railways, steam ships and refrigeration) enabled them to out-produce, transport cheaply and effectively and sell cheaper than Irish farmers could, even in Ireland but especially in the big industrial markets of Britain (previously the almost exclusive domain of Irish and British agriculture).76 Irish Catholic farming thus sought protection from international trade and industrial developments just at a time when Ulster industry was under going massive expansion and profitability from it as an industrial centre. Economic protection, along with cultural protection against most forms of modernity, thus became a key concern for a separate identity and national consciousness for Catholics at the very time that being part of the British State and Empire acquired a totally different meaning for Ulster’s industrial Protestants. Yet given the sectarian nature of most social institutions in Ulster, Catholics were socialised into an identity and acquired skills at odds with the needs and interests of the dominant one and more in tune with the Southern one. The importance of this economic dimension is illustrated in the fact that from the late nineteenth century onwards every attempt to resolve differences between Nationalists and Unionists as to the future of Ireland foundered on economic and fiscal questions, not culture or religion per se. Irish Nationalism made no bones about espousing a Gaelic, Catholic and peasant culture. This was fair enough and reflected reality in the South. But Ulster Unionism proudly presented itself as modern, industrial and Protestant, reflecting its reality. Northern Catholics thus fell between two stools while also competing with Ulster Protestants in an industrial economy with a Catholic education that did not prepare them fully for industrial society. This ensured division and a second class place for Catholics in Ulster while also helping to preclude the idea of a separate Ulster identity from entering their heads. Around the theological differences resulting from the Reformation was built a separate economic interest, culture and consciousness, transmitted and reinforced via a segregated education that strongly marked the Protestant Unionist out from the Catholic Nationalist. Although they often lived only yards from each other they lived in separate worlds, with opposed interests and totally dif-

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ferent concepts of Irishness and the Irish/Ulster interest. They competed to define what was Ireland or Ulster and where its interest lay and when they could not agree the result was partition (a similar story could be told in Sri Lanka, Basque Lands or Yugoslavia). Here it is vital to understand the major economic role of culture, for in the modern nation or State it is the primary economic tool.77 If one cannot communicate, cooperate or interchange in the dominant language and other cultural forms, if you are not trained in the dominant social and economic skills or acquire the right network of social relationships, life chances are severely limited. Economic activity is mediated via a shared culture. Thus culture is not neutral, it is the key economic and political vehicle for everyone in contemporary society. This is why nationalism worldwide is so virulent today, it is to form a life-sustaining socio-economic system around a common culture within a single polity precisely so that vital economic interests, that are culturally based and mediated, can be protected and function. Herein lies the inadequacy of multi-culturalism, parity of esteem and appeals to tolerance. Hence the partition of Ireland and the divisions and separate aspirations within Northern Ireland. Catholics will only be able to maximise their cultural life chances in an all-Ireland state in which their culture dominates. The same applies to Protestants (and Castle Catholics) within the UK. Yet this dimension is frequently overlooked in policy and the literature. Partition was bungled and many Catholics and Protestants found themselves on the wrong side of the border. In both cases the minority suffered persecution, murder and loss of land and property, well documented in the north but almost ignored in the South.78 However, the north had a much bigger minority population, over a third were Catholics while in the south only 10 per cent were Protestants (rapidly declining to 3 per cent).79 In the North the Catholic population continued to grow, feeding Protestant fears of being out-populated. Southern hostility to the north was strong after partition (1920), and once De Valera came to power in 1932 the south embarked on a course of overtly distancing itself from all forms of Britishness, which Ulster Protestants increasingly identified with. Further, the south became much more overtly Catholic in its ethos banning divorce, contraception, abortion, and constitutionally defining a woman’s role as a domestic one.80 It also maintained a territorial claim over the north, which Northern Nationalists eagerly supported, although a substantial minority of Catholics were content to remain within the UK and always had been. Northern Unionists responded by emphasising their British and Protestant ethos and increasingly saw their Catholic minority as an enemy within to be kept down, a fifth column to be constantly guarded against and confined to its own segregated areas. To an extent this suited Catholic Nationalists since they had no desire to mix in with the state, and gestures such as reserving a third of police places for Catholics and fully integrated education were spurned by the Catholic and Nationalist elite, although many individuals took advantage of such opportunities. For Catholics and Nationalists this meant that they excluded

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themselves to a certain degree, but it also meant their elite were able to retain control of their own segregated areas and internal patronage network.81 Such self-exclusion suited the Unionist-Protestant elite as it left them in uncontested control of the new state and free to maintain their own systems of patronage with all the benefits of the state to disburse. It also meant Protestants did not have to do all of their own discrimination. However, Protestants did discriminate in certain local authorities and situations, especially ‘west of the (River) Bann’, where they were often (just) a minority within a hostile nationalist environment but wished to retain control of local authorities, which often provided important forms of political patronage via the distribution of things such as public housing or jobs. This did not occur in all local authorities and when the ‘troubles’ broke out (1960s) it was when a liberal, reforming, devolved regional government (Stormont, openly and democratically elected) under O’Neill was addressing many of these issues.82 What had occurred in ethno-national terms was that two almost alien communities had to share the same territory, warily watching and distrusting each other and fearing for their positions. Two ethnic communities, both professing greater allegiances to different external states existed in Northern Ireland. They maintained exclusive networks of patronage, jobs, local economy, education, sports and social activities, even newspapers language and culture, and all built around the religious networks and organisation of the Catholic and Protestant Churches (with its umbrella organisation, the Orange Order). Consequently separateness and hostility was bred and reconfirmed on an almost daily basis and any change was constantly monitored for how it might affect the relative positions of the two communities, so that when change and liberal reform did come it would have a politically destabilising effect. Throughout the inter-war period there was also sporadic IRA violence, riots and unemployment to help foster the sectarian animosity and during the Second World War, both Irish neutrality and an IRA campaign that supported Nazi Germany helped increase the divisions. But the war also helped resolve some as Catholic and Protestants alike were bombed by the Luftwaffe and large numbers of Catholics joined the UK forces.83 Northern Catholics thus developed increasingly different experiences to Southern ones, gradually moving away from them. Catholic attitudes again shifted in the 1950s when the UK welfare state made a substantial difference to every ones standard of living and life began to settle down into a kind of agreed stand-off. This was illustrated when the southernbased IRA began another campaign against Northern Ireland in 1956, but it was called off in 1962, largely because Ulster Catholics gave it virtually no support.84 However, it also served to remind Unionists of a constant threat and that they could never relax. By the 1960s other changes began to occur, particularly when O’Neill became Prime Minister of Northern Ireland (1964).85 The first moves to breaking down some of the old barriers were made; O’Neill visited Catholic schools and met the Republic’s Prime Minister and the old Nationalist Party stopped boycotting Northern Ireland’s State institutions. It was also a time when change was

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in the air on a social and cultural level, of new attitudes and a new liberalism. Economically it was also a period of change as many of the old staple industries of Ulster declined or were taken over by outside firms and foreign multinationals moved in as major employers.86 Paradoxically it was this change for the better that sparked off the current troubles. After nearly 50 years everyone had got used to the state and a kind of working relationship had evolved between Unionists and Nationalists, or at least their leaders. This was quite comfortable for some and well cushioned by a welfare state that made everyone materially better off than they would be in the Republic. The Nationalist/Catholic elite was recognised and dealt with and as long as they kept to their territory and did not directly threaten the state Unionists were content to leave them alone in their own communities to get on with their own thing. Unionists had undisputed control of the state and rewarded their own but otherwise left Nationalists alone. This was illustrated in education where an agreed formula for funding Catholic schools was established, the state then handed the funds over to the Catholic Church and asked no further questions.87 A similar situation could be found in many areas of life; some Unionist controlled local councils overtly discriminated in employment practices, but then so did Nationalist controlled ones, although there were fewer of them. Additionally many of the claims over discrimination have been exaggerated, as recent research has shown.88 Nationalists paraded their own sectarian politics and traditions, but discreetly kept to their own districts. Meanwhile, Unionists, because they were the state, also used public space as well as their own communities to parade theirs, usually Orange Order.89 A kind of modus operandi was established where all kept to their own patch, including jobs and businesses and so were able to get along almost by ignoring each other. Hence the first 20 years after the war are often recalled as a kind of golden age of toleration and even some inter-communal assistance.90 Of course this worked only while one had a stable environment with known parameters, rules and rewards. Inevitably it broke down once change started to disrupt the game. Thus it is in the mid-1960s when change first seriously affected the Province that one sees the rising tensions and renewed hostility.91 As past enmity and memories were always close to the surface the local populations had immediate narratives, networks and organisations to fall back on to make sense of what was happening and to mobilise through and to slot into their different cultural narratives. An example of this was the way that Churches and the Orange Order often acted as informal jobs networks and providers.92 But this only worked with traditional employers with a local base, new multi-nationals had no conception of this and recruited openly in a way that undermined local networks and religiously based patronage systems. Insecurity mounted on all sides as the old loyalties and customs no longer provided an adequate return. At the same time old staple industries such as linen and shipbuilding declined, which was a major blow for Protestants since these tended to symbolise their culture and identity (Belfast having built the Titanic is still an enormous source of pride for

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Unionists). Shipbuilding was like the Rock of Gibraltar for Unionists and as it crumbled not just economic livelihood but personal identity and psychological and political security were affected.93 At the same time Catholic demands for better employment opportunities than those traditionally provided in their own communities began to emerge. This in turn was mixed in with the heady ideology of liberation, freedom and civil rights (although few bothered to define just what was meant by them) picked up from the new international media. The US black civil rights movement proved a major model for Catholic youth who were probably rebelling as much against their own traditional communal controls as against the Unionist State. And although at first the civil rights movement claimed to be non-sectarian it was soon being influenced by elements that gave it a very one-dimensional image that sometimes deliberately sought confrontation.94 The 1960s was a time of revolt, and to Unionists that meant only one thing, it had to be resisted. Revolt in Ireland has had a history of being against Protestant property and life and for Ulster Protestants the dates of 1641, 1690, 1798 (massacres) were/are like yesterday, as was the old Republican adage (since 1848 and Young Ireland) of ‘a revolt every generation’ and regular IRA campaigns.95 Further disquieting, for Protestants, were the very overtures that the new Unionist leadership (O’Neill) made to the Catholic community. Old certainties, both economic and political, were being undermined and Unionist security was being threatened. The Unionist elite appeared to be either losing its grip or selling out to the enemy. In one sense they were right, the old advantages that the Unionist patronage system had provided for the Protestant working-class were no longer on offer. Once again they now had to compete with Catholics for life opportunities and security. It was a new, more articulate Catholic community, led by young graduates, whose assertiveness reminded Protestants of all the old dangers. It was this that set the ‘troubles’ off, not, as is often claimed discrimination per se or newly educated Catholics (products of the welfare state and generous state education). Certainly discrimination existed, but on both sides, Protestants as a majority simply had more people to discriminate. Both sides agreed, informally, on certain divisions of territory and jobs (Catholic, but state funded, schools were always virtually ceded to clerical control).96 Certain skills were simply not taught in traditional Catholic schools, at least not to the same extent as in Protestant ones, such as science (Catholic education being founded on scholastic philosophy);97 meanwhile, Gaelic was taught in Catholic schools, although totally redundant as an economic skill in Northern Ireland. Of course, in the Republic, Gaelic was a requirement for state employment and so Gaelic would be a life supporting skill, but discriminate against Protestants who did not learn it. Language and culture are wonderful ways of discriminating without actually appearing to do so, it keeps others out and preserves jobs for ones own. In fact much empirical research has shown that there was often precious little material difference between Catholics and Protestants.98 It was a false perception fuelled by the fact that they so rarely met or exchanged and were thus able to

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sustain grossly distorted images of the other. Discrimination and material disadvantage is heavily wrapped in myth in Northern Ireland, although strongly argued as central to what is often referred to as the ‘Catholic Grievance Culture’. However, belief in discrimination certainly fuels much Nationalist sentiment and helps recruitment into, and support for, Republicans and their violence, but it was never the cause of it per se, merely a tactical excuse at best. Change, especially economic, was the key, particularly where it left many feeling insecure and with no sense of direction, even a sense of loss, but few people understood that then. This is really one of the major lessons of Northern Ireland but one often not picked up by government, indeed they even aggravate the situation by not giving that sense of security (of national belonging) required at times of change. Thus when they leave Northern Ireland’s future open to popular consent now and in the future they still leave the entire question of nation and identity open and to be fought over, certainty and security is not assured. Consent may sound liberal but its affects are frequently the opposite. However, even change is only a partial explanation, equally important was lack of integration between the two communities. Allowing such radically opposed communities to co-exist on the same territory is the real mistake, it breeds the grounds for hostility and violence into which terrorist groups can easily recruit and legitimate their violence. What is probably required is a single integrated community with a shared sense of identity, authority and legitimacy based on a single moral philosophy (civic, to rise above the religious ones). This is one of the reasons why Northern Ireland with a vast battery of equality and anti-discrimination legislation has solved few of its problems and sectarian divisions are worse than ever.99 Currently the terrorist groups are purely on ceasefire, militarily the PIRA in particular were beaten as security force operations grew in sophistication and expertise. But within Northern Ireland the PIRA were also beaten by their inability to go outside of Catholic ghettos, they could never advance out of areas which did not already share their views or sympathise with them. Conversely the security forces (being state) had difficulty penetrating Catholic communities. One is thus back at the beginning and probably waiting for it to happen all over again.

Conclusion It is against this background that one must view events in Northern Ireland; an ethnic inter-communal struggle between fairly homogenous groups with their unique identity and interests. It is largely because it has never been tackled at this level that it has lasted so long and has not actually been solved. Government policy has ignored the key dynamics for quick-fix and legal remedies, such as outlawing discrimination yet maintaining the structural causes of it. This has even prevented the security forces from properly being able to respond to terrorism since they are perceived as coming from one side of the community only (state forces will always be identified with state supporters, like culture the state cannot be neutral). This hinders their ability to gather the intelligence and

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knowledge required on terrorists. Meanwhile, state authority and legitimacy is denied in the hostile community whose narrative acts to support the terrorist and provide a safe haven for them. Another great lesson from the Province is that terrorism can thus be identified as primarily a social product, which would help explain the failure of psychology to identify any causes of terrorism or for legal and political fixes to be any more successful. Despite this the security forces performed well and largely contained the terrorist threat and certainly created a situation in which the terrorists wanted to call off their campaign. Beyond that the security forces are unable to go. Further, resolution of the ‘troubles’ requires a state commitment and policies that will undermine the different narratives and integrate the population in a single narrative and structure. This so that the normal informal social forces of control and order on which all societies depend most of the time, can take a common hold. Toleration of difference may be fine as an ideal, but often it does not work since certain differences are intolerable within the same space. That is the raison d’etre of nationalism, and the partition of Ireland, whose logical implications have not been adequately thought through. Only when this is done will there be a civil victory to match the security forces success.

Notes 1 David Millar (1978) The Queen’s Rebels (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan), chapter 1. 2 Jonathan Bardon (2001) A History of Ulster (Belfast: Blackstaff), provides a good general history of Ulster and its troubles. More specifically, see Peter Gibbon (1975) The Origins of Ulster Unionism (Manchester: Manchester University Press), particularly chapters 3 and 4. 3 http://cain.ulst.ac.uk/ni/religion.htm and www.ark.ac.uk/nilt/2006/Political_Attitudes/NIRELAND.html. 4 In 2003 the DUP overtook the UUP in locally held elections, Independent, 29 November 2003, pp. 1, 12–13. CAIN, election results in Northern Ireland, http://cain.ulst.ac.uk/issues/politics/election/elect.htm. 5 For their lack of electoral support see note 4. 6 Thomas Hennessey (1997) A History of Northern Ireland, 1920–1996 (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan), 178–184. 7 See note 4. 8 M.L.R. Smith (1997) Fighting for Ireland (London: Routledge), pp. 172–178. 9 In 2003 Sinn Féin easily surpassed the SDLP in terms of electoral support, see note 4. 10 Austen Morgan (1991) Labour and Partition, the Belfast Working-class, 1905–23 (London: Pluto), chapter 10. 11 Richard English (2003) Armed Struggle, the History of the IRA (London: Pan), chapter 3, extensively covers the IRA’s flirtation with socialism and Marxism, a somewhat complex debate within the movement, but with little resonance outside of a hardcore. Guelke, in R. Mitchell and R. Wilford (eds) (1999) Politics in Northern Ireland (Oxford: Westview), p. 32, refers simply to the social conservatism of Republicans. Meanwhile, Malachi O’Doherty (1998) The Trouble With Guns (Belfast: Blackstaff), refers to Republicans’ intense Catholicism, with particular reference to the Christian Brothers, pp. 15–27. Henry Patterson (1998) The Politics of Illusion (London: Hutchinson), provides a detailed history of Republicans’ ideas on socialism. 12 See note 11, English, conclusion.

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13 David Fitzpatrick (1998) The Two Irelands (Oxford: OPUS), chapter 6. Terence Brown (1981) Ireland: A Social and Cultural History (Glasgow: Fontana). 14 Brian Girvin (2002) From Union to Union (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan). Desmond Fennell (1993) Heresy (Belfast: Blackstaff Press). 15 Colin Coulter (1999) Contemporary Northern Irish Society (London: Pluto), pp. 78–95. Peter Shirlow and Brendan Murtagh (2006) Belfast, Segregation, Violence and the City (London: Pluto). 16 Adrian Hastings (1997) The Construction of Nationhood, Ethnicity, Religion and Nationalism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). P. van der Veer and H. Lehmann (1999) Nation and Religion (Princeton: Princeton University Press). 17 Note 15, chapter 1. 18 Note 15, pp. 12–15. Note 3. Alan Megahey (2002) The Irish Protestant Churches in the Twentieth Century (Basingstoke: Macmillan). 19 Peter Brooke (1994) Ulster Presbyterianism (Belfast: Athol). 20 This is well illustrated in Samuel Clark (1979) Social Origins of the Land War (Princeton: Princeton University Press) and Dominic Murray (1985) Worlds Apart (Belfast: Appletree). Both emphasise the major role of informal social networks built around religion that were vital economic channels in past and present Ireland/ Northern Ireland. 21 Note 14, pp. 38–40 and pp. 51–59. J. Ruane and J. Todd (1996) The Dynamics of Conflict in Northern Ireland (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), chapter 2. 22 R.F. Foster (1989) Modern Ireland, 1600–1972 (London: Penguin), chapter 21. John Whyte (1971) Church and State in Modern Ireland (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan). 23 Tom Wilson (1989) Ulster, Conflict and Consent (Oxford: Blackwell), pp. 210–216. 24 Note 15, chapter 2. 25 Paul Kingsley (1989) Londonderry Revisited (Belfast: Belfast Publications), Part 1A, Gerrymandering. Note 20, Ruane and Todd, pp. 71–76. 26 Patrick Buckland (1981) A History of Northern Ireland (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan), chapter 4. 27 Note 20, Ruane and Todd, chapter 3. 28 On the PIRA, ETA and FARC, see Time, 3 September 2001, pp. 32–33. 29 This is illustrated in the revisionist debate over objectivity and ‘British’ or ‘Irish’ history (latter implying a role of defending the ‘national’ interpretation). D. George Boyce and Allan O’Day (eds) (1996) The Making of Modern Irish History (London: Routledge). Ciaran Brady (ed.) (1999) Interpreting Irish History (Dublin: Irish Academic Press). 30 On postmodernism see, T. Woods (1999) Beginning Postmodernism (Manchester: Manchester University Press). As applied to Ireland, see S. Brewster, V. Crossman, F. Becket and D. Alderson (1999) Ireland in Proximity (London: Routledge). D. Kiberd (1996) Inventing Ireland (London: Vintage). 31 Anthony Smith (1991) National Identity (London: Penguin). B. Anderson (1991) Imagined Communities (London: Verso). 32 Examples of this are: ‘parity of esteem’ that dominates the Belfast Agreement, Belfast: HMSO, 1998 or EMU – Education for Mutual Understanding that dominates current community relations programmes, Belfast, Community Relations Council. 33 Note 28, Boyce and O’Day and Brady. 34 Note 33. 35 Herries Davies (1985) ‘Irish thought in science’, in R. Kearney (ed.) The Irish Mind, Exploring Intellectual Traditions (Dublin: Wolfhound). Peter Bowler and Nicholas Whyte (1997) Science and Society in Ireland, 1800–1950 (Belfast: Institute of Irish Studies). Mary Harris, (1993) The Catholic Church and the Foundation of the Northern Irish State (Cork: Cork University Press), chapter 6. 36 Bill Rolston (1998) ‘What’s wrong with multiculturalism? Liberalism and the Irish conflict’, in D. Miller (ed.) Rethinking Northern Ireland (London: Longman).

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37 James Dingley (2004) ‘Constructive ambiguity and the peace process in Northern Ireland’, Low Intensity Conflict and Law Enforcement, 13:1. 38 Independent, 30 August 2004, p. 18. Also, Belfast Tourist Information. 39 Jonathan Tonge (1998) Northern Ireland, Conflict and Change, (Hemel Hempstead: Prentice Hall). John McGarry and Brendan O’Leary (1995) Explaining Northern Ireland (Oxford: Blackwell). 40 Peter Shirlow and Brendan Murtagh (2006) Belfast, Segregation, Violence and the City (London: Pluto). 41 Paul Bew and Henry Patterson (1985) The British State and the Ulster Crisis (London: Verso). Paul Teague (ed.) (1987) Beyond the Rhetoric (London: Lawrence & Wishart). Paul Bew, Peter Gibbon and Henry Patterson (1995) Northern Ireland 1921–1994, Political Forces and Social Classes (London: Serif). 42 Sabina Wichert (1995) Northern Ireland Since 1945 (London: Longman), chapters 3 and 4. 43 Steve Bruce (1986) God Save Ulster (Oxford: Oxford University Press), chapters 8 and 9. 44 Note 22, Whyte, chapters 1, 2 and 3. 45 T.H. Eriksen (1993) Ethnicity and Nationalism (London: Pluto). Ernest Gellner (1983) Nations and Nationalism (Oxford: Blackwell). Elie Kedourie (1993) Nationalism, (Oxford: Blackwell). 46 Robert Nisbet (1996) The Sociological Tradition (New Brunswick: Transaction). H.S. Hughes (1961) Consciousness and Society (New York: Vintage). Brian Turner (ed.) (1993) Citizenship and Social Theory (London: Sage). 47 Note 45, Kedourie. Isaiah Berlin (2000) The Roots of Romanticism (London: Pimlico). Arthur Herman (2003) The Scottish Enlightenment (London: Fourth Estate). 48 Note 45, Berlin. Note 43, Kedourie. Liah Greenfeld (1993) Nationalism, Five Roads to Modernity (Cambridge: Harvard University Press). 49 Note 41, Bew, Gibbon and Patterson, pp. 158–171. 50 Paul Bew, Henry Patterson and Paul Teague (1997) Between War and Peace, the Political Future of Northern Ireland (London: Lawrence & Wishart), chapter 3. 51 Paul Bew, Peter Gibbon and Henry Patterson (1996) Northern Ireland 1921–1996, Political Forces and Social Classes (London: Serif), pp. 160–163. 52 Thomas Hennessey (2005) The Origins of the ‘Troubles’ (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan), pp. 127–128. 53 Note 15, pp. 171–172. 54 To date no terrorist group has unequivocally halted their campaign. In fact both Loyalist and Republican representatives have told the author that they do not think the ‘troubles’ are over, which is why they would not cooperate with a truth and reconciliation commission. Republican lack of decommissioning, www.spinwatch.org/ content/view/211/8. 55 James Dingley (2000) ‘Northern Ireland: The unravelling peace process’, Low Intensity Conflict and Law Enforcement, 9:2. 56 Note 6. Note 25. Note 26. 57 Liam de Paor (1986) The Peoples of Ireland (London: Hutchinson). M.W. Heslinga (1979) The Irish Cultural Border as a Cultural Divide (Netherlands: van Gorcum). 58 D. George Boyce (1995) Nationalism in Ireland (London: Routledge), chapter 3. P. Roebuck (1981) Plantation to Partition (Belfast: Blackstaff). 59 Note 58, Boyce, chapter 4. 60 Note 25, chapter 1. Patrick Buckland (1981) Irish Unionism, vol. 1 (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan), Introduction. 61 Peter Brooke (1994) Ulster Presbyterianism (Belfast: Athol), chapter 4. 62 Note 21, Foster, chapter 12. 63 Note 21, Foster, chapter 13. 64 Philip Ollerenshaw (1985) ‘Industry, 1820–1914’, in Liam Kennedy and Philip

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72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89

90 91 92 93 94 95

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Ollerenshaw (eds) An Economic History of Ulster (Manchester: Manchester University Press). Note 64. Note 60. Michael Laffan (1983) The Partition of Ireland (Dublin: Dublin Historical Association), pp. 1–6. As Gibbon, Note 2, chapter II, explains, even the rise of the Orange Order was intimately connected to competition between Catholics and Protestants for jobs. Note 1, chapter 2. A.T.Q. Stewart (1989) The Narrow Ground (London: Faber), part 4. F.S.L. Lyons (1973) Ireland Since the Famine (London: Fontana), pp. 81–98, 645–658. Note 2, chapter IV. Note 13, p. 97. D. George Boyce (ed.) (1988) The Revolution in Ireland, 1879–1923, (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan). R.F. Foster (ed.) (1992) Ireland (Oxford: Oxford University Press). J.J. Lee, The Modernisation of Irish Society, 1848–1918 (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan). F.S.L. Lyons (1982) Culture and Anarchy in Ireland, 1890–1939 (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Note 43, Gellner, pp. 86, 120. Peter Bowler and Nicholas Whyte (eds) (1997) Science and Society in Ireland, (Belfast: Institute of Irish Studies), chapter 3. Note 73, chapter 6. P. Bew (1994) Ideology and the Irish Question (Oxford: Oxford University Press), pp. 84–90. Note 19, Clark. Philip Bull (1996) Land, Politics and Nationalism (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan). Note 69, chapter 2. Note 75, Bull. Note 74, Bew, p. 21. Note 71, Lee, p. 131. Gordon Lucy (1995) The Great Convention (Lurgan: Ulster Society). Note 64, Kennedy and Ollerenshaw. Notes 44 and 43. Note 13, chapter 4. Peter Hart (1999) The IRA and its Enemies: Violence and Community in Cork, 1916–1923 (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Enda Delaney (2006) Demography, State and Society (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press), pp. 115–116, 248–252. Note 52, chapters 1 and 2. Note 21, Foster, chapters 21 and 22. Note 13, chapters 5 and 6. Note 8, chapter 3. Note 6, chapter 3. Note 49, chapter 4. Patrick Shea (1983) Voices and the Sound of Drums (Belfast: Blackstaff), chapters 15 and 16. Dominic Murray (1985) Worlds Apart (Belfast: Appletree), chapter 1. Note 24, Kingsley. Graham Gudgin (1999) ‘Discrimination in housing and employment Under the Stormont Administration’, in P. Roche and B. Barton (eds) The Northern Ireland Question: Nationalism, Unionism and Partition (Aldershot: Ashgate). James Dingley (2002) ‘Marching down the Garvaghy Road’, Terrorism and Political Violence, 14:3. Rosemary Harris (1972) Prejudice and Tolerance in Ulster: A Study of Neighbours and Strangers in a Border Community (Manchester: Manchester University Press). Note 49. Note 19. Note 6, Note 52, chapter 3. James Loughlin (1995) Ulster Unionism and British National Identity since 1885 (London: Pinter), pp. 237–238. Note 2, Bardon. Note 22, Foster.

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96 Note 15, pp. 23–26. 97 Mary Harris (1993) The Catholic Church and the Foundation of the Northern Ireland State (Cork: Cork University Press), chapter 6. 98 Richard Rose (1971) Governing Without Consensus: An Irish Perspective (London: Faber & Faber). 99 Note 40.

3

The rise of the paramilitaries Peter R. Neumann

Introduction For outsiders, the frequency with which Northern Ireland academics, journalists, and even the political actors themselves use the term ‘paramilitary’ can be somewhat irritating. In historical perspective, the expression has mostly been associated with auxiliary military forces that operate outside the institutional and legal framework that applies to a regular army. The best example is the so-called Black and Tans in the Anglo-Irish War of Independence (1919–1921). More recently, the term rose to prominence in the context of the conflict in Colombia, where the expression ‘paramilitary’ refers to ‘pro-state’ groups which aim to assist the central government in defeating its revolutionary opponents. In Northern Ireland, however, the term refers to all non-state organisations that use violence for political ends. Neither do they have to wear uniforms, nor is the term restricted to groups of a ‘pro-state’ orientation. Indeed, in Northern Ireland, the term ‘paramilitary’ is commonly used for groups which – in other contexts – would simply be referred to as ‘terrorist’.1 The aim of this chapter is to provide a brief overview of the historical development as well as the key military, political and institutional dynamics of the main paramilitary groups that have been active throughout the current Northern Ireland conflict. As Figure 3.1 demonstrates,2 most of the violence perpetrated during the ‘troubles’ has been the responsibility of Irish Republican groups, and they will therefore be given most attention. In the following, we seek to demonstrate that paramilitary groups have presented a considerable challenge to the law enforcement authorities, but that – after 1972 – none of these groups ever came close to ‘defeating’ the security forces, or even to forcing a major change of policy upon the British government. Their ineffectiveness in terms of achieving political objectives, however, does not mean that they were of no consequence. Paramilitary groups have been – and will continue to be – a major source of instability. While the Provisional Irish Republican Army (PIRA) may have ended its traditional campaign, it remains an armed organisation engaging in the systematic use of violence. In addition, dissident Republican groups continue to plan major military operations, albeit with little success. Likewise, on the Loyalist side, the major paramilitary groups maintain their organisations, and

36

P.R. Neumann 300 250

Loyalists

Republicans

British security forces

Not known

Killings

200 150 100 50 0

1969

1971

1973

1975

1977

1979

1981

1983

1985

1987

1989

1991

1993

1995

1997

1999

2001

Figure 3.1 Responsibility for killings, 1969–2001 (source: Malcolm Sutton’s Index of Deaths; see http://cain.uuist.ac.uk).

recent developments point in the direction of a ferocious power struggle rather than towards peaceful dissolution. All this illustrates the importance of confronting the issue of paramilitarism, especially in the context of a peaceful settlement.

Republicans Throughout the conflict, the most significant threat emanated from paramilitary groups that described themselves as Irish Republican. The common aim of all Republicans is to sever the link between Great Britain and Northern Ireland, so that the province’s six counties cease to be a part of the United Kingdom. In very simple terms, this could be summed up in the slogan ‘Brits out’, which has been used by Republican groups throughout most of the conflict. In addition, most Republicans believe that it is not sufficient simply to end the constitutional link with Great Britain and unite the ‘island of Ireland’ under one common jurisdiction, but that the emerging entity would have to be ‘a new Ireland’ in which the Republican ideals of democratic self-determination, economic independence and full political sovereignty are realised. While the second aim remained relatively vague, there has always been near-universal agreement on the first, namely that the ‘British occupation’ of Northern Ireland had to be ended as a first step to ‘full independence’. All Republican groups can therefore be described as ‘revolutionary’: their aim is to overthrow the existing constitutional order and replace it with a new one. How did Republicans hope to translate their aims into reality? Ideologically, modern Irish Republicanism can be traced back to the 1916 Dublin Easter Rising in which Republican revolutionaries like Patrick Pearse, James Connolly and others declared themselves to be the Provisional Government of an ‘Irish

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Republic’ that comprised the 32 counties of the island of Ireland. The British government’s refusal to grant independence to Ireland – even after the Republicans’ political party Sinn Féin won a majority of the Irish seats in the 1918 Westminster elections – led to the Anglo-Irish war of independence and the 1921 Treaty, which gave the 26 counties of ‘southern’ Ireland dominion status within the Commonwealth. While the majority of Irish Republicans acquiesced in this compromise and saw it as a ‘stepping stone’ towards full independence, a minority insisted on the full implementation of the political programme that had been set out in 1916. For them, the supposed lessons from history had been quite clear. They were: that the British government had a ‘strategic interest’ in maintaining a colonial (that is, exploitative) relationship with Ireland, that it would therefore continue its century-old policy of ‘divide and conquer’, and that real gains for the Irish people could only be made if the British government was compelled to change its policy by military force.3 The emphasis on the colonial paradigm and the primacy of military force are the key elements that distinguish Irish Republicanism from constitutional Irish Nationalism. In the current conflict, this meant that the main audience for Irish Republican terrorism was the British government in London. The strategic idea underlying all military operations of Republican military groups was to increase the perceived price of ‘occupation’, so that the government (by itself or via the political pressure exerted by British public opinion) would one day conclude that maintaining the constitutional link with Great Britain had become a liability and needed to be abandoned. This, Republicans believed, could be achieved through operations which attacked the symbols of British power in Northern Ireland, such as the police force, the military stationed in the province, as well as government installations and their representatives. It could also be done by attacking economic targets and disrupting normal life, making Northern Ireland ‘ungovernable except by military rule’ while increasing the financial burden of the province to the British taxpayer.4 However, although the majority of military operations were carried out in Northern Ireland, there was no inherent, ideological restriction in relation to one’s area of operations. On the contrary, at various times throughout the conflict, the targets of Republican paramilitaries included British military installations throughout Europe, as well as the symbols of British political and economic power in England. The dynamics of violence in the years 1968–2001 demonstrates that there were significant fluctuations within the basic framework imposed by the Republicans’ ideological and strategic posture. It is also necessary to distinguish between the numerous Republican factions, some of which it will not be possible to describe in detail. The most important group, the PIRA, emerged as a splinter from what is now known as the Official IRA (OIRA) in 1969–1970. By the early to mid-1960s, the IRA had become little more than a folk memory among ordinary Catholics in Northern Ireland. Its last attempt to get the ‘Brits out’ – the so-called Border Campaign in the years 1956–1962 – had ended in an embarrassing defeat, and the organisation subsequently flirted with the Marxist scenario of a working-class revolution across the Ireland in which armed

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resistance to British rule only played a subordinate role. Although the Unionist government immediately blamed the IRA for stirring up trouble among Catholics, the reality was that the IRA had been unprepared for the outbreak of sectarian disturbances in 1968–1969. The Republicans’ inability to ‘defend’ the Catholic community against the supposed onslaught by Protestant extremists led to a split in the Republican movement, which saw the more traditionally Republican faction leave the OIRA to establish their own movement. Rather than wasting their time with political debates and parliamentary debates, the PIRA was determined to take up the armed struggle, ‘protect’ their Catholic brethren and ‘liberate’ Northern Ireland from the essentially unjust system of ‘British occupation’, thus completing the mission that had been begun in 1916.5 Hence, while the sectarian disturbances gradually calmed down, a new conflict emerged. the PIRA’s strategy entailed the gradual escalation in the use of the military instrument. First, it would attempt to establish itself as a ‘defensive’ force in the Catholic areas, then retaliate to individual acts of violence, and finally launch an offensive against the ‘British forces of occupation’. In early 1970s, when the Catholic community had not yet completely lost their trust in the British government, it was in the PIRA’s interest to maintain some tension, and to re-direct the anger of the Catholic youths towards the British troops. Indeed, in mid-1970, the president of Provisional Sinn Féin, Ruairi O’Bradaigh, was quoted as saying that ‘his organization is not trying to foment violence; they are trying to control it, so that when it occurs it will not be wholly useless’.6 By early 1971, the PIRA felt sufficiently confident to enter the second phase of its campaign, and by late summer, the introduction of internment without trial presented the organisation with an opportunity to wage ‘all-out war’. In the first months of 1972, the PIRA had essentially achieved its objective of making Northern Ireland ungovernable, prompting the question among British policymakers whether the constitutional status quo was tenable. In retrospect, there can be little doubt that – had it not been for the PIRA’s campaign – the British government would not have felt compelled to abolish the Home Rule arrangement and introduce Direct Rule from London. As M.L.R. Smith pointed out, the fall of Stormont marked the ‘simultaneous zenith and nadir’ of the PIRA’s military campaign.7 At this point, the Republicans could have translated their military success into considerable political concessions, yet they failed to do so. They were blinded by their ideologicallymotivated belief that only military force could bring victory, and that political compromise amounted to treachery. They also overestimated their own capabilities, mistakenly believing that their ‘army’ could maintain a military offensive and run the 20,000 or so British security forces into the ground. Instead of engaging the British government at a political level, the PIRA’s leadership simply presented the government with a list of demands on which no compromise was possible. Indeed, a brief ceasefire, which allowed the leadership to meet British government representatives in London on 7 July 1972, was broken off, and the PIRA’s units were told to escalate their campaign. The nearsimultaneous launch of 22 bombs in Belfast city centre on 21 July 1972 (Bloody

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Friday) backfired on the PIRA, creating the political climate in which it became possible for the British government to re-enter the Republican ‘no go’ areas, mainly in the Bogside of Londonderry. Deprived of the ‘safe havens’ in which it was able to organise and recruit freely, the PIRA found it increasingly hard to sustain the level of military activity it had engaged in previously. The PIRA was far from beaten, yet it gradually became clear that the Republican campaign had lost its strategic momentum. The PIRA’s rate of killings, which can be used as a general indicator of paramilitary activity, dropped from 234 people in 1972 to 126 in 1973.8 In the following years, the PIRA’s campaign declined further. Although the leadership declared 1974 to be the ‘year of victory’, the truth was that the PIRA had lost its sense of purpose and badly needed a ‘break’ in which to regroup and reorganise. However, rather than reinvigorating the organisation, the 1975 ceasefire only exposed the ‘darker side’ of the PIRA: in the absence of any meaningful military campaign, the volunteers spent their time getting involved in ordinary crime, internecine feuding, and sectarian killings. As Patrick Bishop and Eamon Mallie remarked, this could well have marked the end of yet another Republican campaign, had it not been for the takeover of the organisation by the band of ‘young turks’ around Gerry Adams and Martin McGuinness.9 In contrast to the (by now) common assumption that Adams and McGuinness wanted the PIRA to move towards greater involvement in the political process, their initial objective was to re-establish the group as an effective military organisation. They introduced a new military doctrine, which postulated that it was not possible to overwhelm the enemy at any given point in time, but that victory could be achieved through a ‘long war’ of attrition. To prepare the organisation for such a ‘long war’, they restructured the PIRA along cellular lines and imposed stricter discipline, yet they also proposed greater efforts at mass agitation, arguing that to ‘gain the respect of the people . . . leads to increased support for the cell’ (see below).10 It is difficult to calculate precisely what impact the ‘long war’ doctrine had. It seems obvious that the annual level of attacks fell substantially, and that the organisation increasingly focused on well-planned ‘spectaculars’, such as the assassination of Lord Mountbatten in August 1979, or the attack on the Conservative Party conference in Brighton in October 1984. At the same time, the PIRA never quite became the clean, professional fighting machine which people like Adams had envisaged. To a great extent, this was related to the nature of the conflict. While Republican ideology dictated that this was a ‘war’ between the Irish people and the British government, in reality many of the PIRA’s foot soldiers had joined the organisation in order to protect ‘their’ community against the Protestants; and it was the image of being the ‘defenders’ of the Catholics which gave the PIRA some degree of legitimacy within their community. Therefore, despite the all-inclusive message that could be found in official declarations, there was a significant element of sectarianism embedded within modern Irish Republicanism. At best, this inherent element of sectarianism was reflected in the scant regard paid to protecting civilians when those

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civilians happened to Protestants, such as during the 1987 Remembrance Day attack, which killed 11 Protestants who were attending a commemoration ceremony in Enniskillen.11 At worst, it was expressed in the deliberate targeting of Unionist politicians, retired security forces personnel (especially in rural areas), and Protestant civilians in sectarian ‘tit for tat’ killings. One may, however, also challenge the ‘long war’ doctrine from the perspective of military effectiveness. Volunteers were told to conceptualise the British government ‘like a brick wall’, and that ‘if you hit it long enough, one day it will come down’.12 The problem was that – with an average of 41 killings per year in the 1980s – the PIRA was far from developing the strategic momentum necessary even to dent that brick wall. On the contrary, by the mid-1980s, the British government had successfully contained the conflict both politically and militarily, and even if the PIRA demonstrated that it was capable of ‘soldiering on’, there was no danger it could ever force a major policy change upon its enemy. The question, therefore, was: if the new doctrine did not bring the movement any closer to achieving the political objectives, what was the point? There were two possible ways forward. One was to reverse the ‘long war’ doctrine and return to a strategy of escalation. This idea, first articulated in 1984, was modelled on the Vietcong’s ‘Tet’ offensive (where the Vietcong launched a major and dramatic escalation of its violence in major towns and cities in Vietnam to show that it could penetrate even the most rigorous defences), which had convinced the American public that the Vietnam war was a lost cause. It was advocated by some of the group’s rural units, which had never fully implemented the ‘long war’ doctrine. Planned operations involved the use of surfaceto-air missiles, heavy machine guns, 106-milimeter canons and rockets, as well as a series of ‘spectaculars’ in Britain and continental Europe. The plan critically depended on the support of the Libyan leader, Colonel Gaddafi, who had promised the PIRA modern weaponry as well as financial aid following British support for the American air strikes on Libya in 1986. As it turned out, while two of Gaddafi’s shipments came through, the third – containing the most valuable equipment – was intercepted. More importantly, the discovery of the Eksund meant that the PIRA lost the all-important element of surprise, leaving the security forces sufficient time to disrupt the PIRA’s preparations and implement a variety of counter-measures.13 The second – and ultimately victorious – proposal was to look for alternatives to a strategy that was based on the idea of military victory. As the PIRA’s former Belfast Brigade commander, Brendan Hughes, put it: ‘[PIRA] came to the conclusion that the British military regime could not be defeated, and there had to be negotiations. . . . [T]he only alternative was to carry on a futile war.’14 Indeed, this was the point at which the PIRA became serious about engaging with the enemy at the political level. To understand how significant a watershed this was, we need to go back in the history of the PIRA’s current campaign. According to the traditional Republican mindset, only military force could convince the British government to give way on the question of ‘Irish selfdetermination’. Parliamentary politics, on the other hand, was pointless, if not

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corrupting. As O’Bradaigh put it: ‘The armed struggle and sitting in parliaments are mutually exclusive . . . Parliament is a substitute for a national liberation struggle. It is there to contain and draw off revolutionary fervour.’15 Any form of parliamentary involvement, therefore, was fiercely rejected throughout most of the Republican campaign. This is especially true for Gerry Adams’ early attempt at transforming the movement. In his so-called ‘Brownie’ columns in the mid1970s, he called for increased involvement in mass agitation, yet the aim was not to ease the Republicans’ way into constitutional politics, but precisely the opposite, namely to stop the PIRA from falling for ‘the diversions and cul-desacs of constitutional politics’.16 Labelled ‘active abstentionism’, the idea was to popularise the armed struggle and build alternative structures of government, which would eventually replace the existing framework of institutions.17 A significant turning point was the 1981 election of imprisoned PIRA volunteer Bobby Sands as a Member of Parliament. This victory, which occurred while Sands was on hunger strike, was initially thought of as a propaganda tool, demonstrating that the British claims according to which the PIRA enjoyed no support were false. Shortly afterwards, the PIRA’s publicity director, Danny Morrison, coined the idea of ‘the bullet and the ballot box’, which aimed to signal to the Republican grassroots that electoral participation and armed struggle could be pursued in tandem, and that there was no danger the movement would get sucked into parliamentary politics.18 Indeed, in the following years, the PIRA’s political front Sinn Féin scored some remarkable electoral successes. At the 1982 Assembly elections, it won 10.1 per cent of the vote. At the 1983 Westminster poll, Sinn Féin not only increased its following by almost 60 per cent (102,701 votes compared to 64,191 in 1982) but also managed to gain the West Belfast seat for Gerry Adams.19 Having obtained the support of 42 per cent of the Nationalist electorate, the Republicans were confident that Sinn Féin would soon replace the SDLP as the strongest party and become the official ‘voice’ of the Catholic community in Northern Ireland. Almost as a by-product, this would have thwarted the British government’s efforts at bringing about a political settlement by giving the Republicans a virtual veto over any constitutional proposal. Most importantly, though, for most Republicans, these victories were a powerful, public validation of the armed struggle,20 and as long as Sinn Féin continued to increase its share of the vote, there was little internal criticism of the new strategy. By the late 1980s, however, Sinn Féin’s seemingly unstoppable advance had come to an end. Rather than overtaking the SDLP, Sinn Féin lost voters in almost every consecutive poll, reaching a record low of only 48,914 voters in the 1989 European elections. In the Republic of Ireland, which the leadership regarded as a crucial electoral battleground, Sinn Féin remained a fringe party even after the movement had decided that successful candidates were allowed to take their seats in the Irish parliament. It was at this point that many Republican leaders recognised that there was a contradiction between the bullet and the ballot box – one that could not be resolved easily without choosing one over the other. As Morrison recalls:

42

P.R. Neumann House to house canvassing was tough. People told us that they sympathised with our political positions, but that they couldn’t possibly vote for us. They said they couldn’t stand the bombs and the shootings. They had moral problems. . . . We realised that there was a ceiling on our electoral support as long as the armed struggle continued.21

For some years, the circle around Adams suggested that it was possible to maintain the dual strategy. The key, they believed, was to encourage the PIRA to concentrate even harder on fighting a ‘clean war’, that is, to avoid civilians and strike at targets that were popular with the wider Republican constituency (such as British military personnel). In practice, though, this could never be achieved. First, some of the rural units never really supported the electoral strategy in the first place, and they were not prepared to make any substantial military sacrifice in order to preserve it. In other words, they simply ignored the directives coming from Belfast and carried on with their campaign as usual.22 Second, there were limits to which the PIRA’s campaign could be fine-tuned. Like any terrorist organisation, the PIRA was faced with a whole host of organisational and institutional dynamics which made it difficult to enforce military orders across all the units at all times – not least the inherent element of sectarianism to which we referred earlier.23 The central idea of the Republican leadership around Adams was to build a ‘pan-Nationalist front’ consisting of the PIRA (represented by Sinn Féin), the SDLP and the Irish government. The purpose of this coalition was to pressurise the British government and the Unionists, lobby for further concessions to the Nationalist cause and establish a consensus on Irish unity. The initiative was significant for three reasons. First, it showed that people like Adams accepted there was no chance the Republicans would soon become the dominant force in the Nationalist camp, but that they were happy to become junior partners in a wider coalition. Second, it demonstrated that they were ready to form a coalition with some of the political actors they had earlier labelled ‘bourgeois’ – even ‘enemies of the Irish people’. Third, and most importantly, it was evidence that the Republicans were prepared to reduce their involvement in the armed struggle. Indeed, a group of Republican prisoners, who were opposed to the initiative, believed that ‘no constitutional party will agree to formal alliances with us unless we reject the use of armed struggle’.24 During the early 1990s, the PIRA was involved in a cautious process of transformation, which involved the deliberate sending of different – and sometimes outright contradictory – messages to the various external and internal constituencies of the Republican movement.25 No doubt, it was partly due to the skilful internal management by the Republican leadership that it became possible for the PIRA to move towards the declaration of a ‘permanent’ cessation of violence in 1994. However, contrary to the expectation of many observers at the time, this did not mean an end to all Republican involvement in violence. The strategy, on which the 1994 ceasefire was based, was called TUAS, which has been translated both as ‘Tactical Use of Armed Struggle’ and ‘Totally Un-Armed Strategy’. The

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reality on the ground appeared to match the former rather than the latter interpretation. the PIRA halted its offensive campaign against the British Army, the police force, as well as government and commercial targets in England and Northern Ireland. Yet it continued its ‘policing’ of Republican areas as well as that of its own organisation, and it remained an important fundraiser for Sinn Féin, for example through its smuggling operations. In addition, volunteers were ordered to revive the sectarian street politics of the 1960s in what Henry Patterson called a ‘strategy for keeping militants occupied in the absence of the action and ‘drama’ of the armed struggle’.26 The most vivid expression of this was the annual confrontation over the Orange Order march in Drumcree, which – according to Adams – had taken ‘three years of work’ to create.27 Most importantly, perhaps, the PIRA retained its arsenal of weapons, and continued training, targeting and surveillance as usual. It was quite clear, therefore, to all the participants in the political process that the PIRA could ‘return to war’ at any moment should the negotiations not produce the results the Republicans hoped for. Indeed, Adams himself expressed this implicit threat publicly, when he reminded an audience that ‘they haven’t gone away, you know’.28 Despite the breakdown of the PIRA’s cessation in February 1996, TUAS was phenomenally successful. It enabled the Republican movement to dictate the dynamics of the political process, participate in the negotiations, and become a part of the Good Friday settlement in 1998 without having given up a single gun, never mind standing down the PIRA. In fact, it allowed the PIRA to continue with much of its operational activities for years after the settlement was struck, even while Sinn Féin ministers were holding office in the power-sharing executive. When the Republicans were finally pressured into making a ‘gesture of goodwill’ on decommissioning, they did so at a time of their own choosing, calculated to achieve maximum political mileage. To this day, the PIRA remains in existence, and while there can be no doubt that the Republicans have come to a point at which the resumption of their traditional campaign seems unlikely, it is equally clear that the systematic use of low-level violence will continue to be part of the Republican strategic posture as long as the other parties – especially the Irish and British governments – allow them to exercise that option. The Independent Monitoring Commission (IMC), which supervises the state of paramilitary ceasefires, argued in its report from early 2004 that the PIRA ‘maintain[ed] itself in a state of readiness’, and that it was involved in a range of criminal activities as well as in ‘the serious use of violence’.29 Despite this assessment, there is little doubt that – at the moment – the most acute threat is said to emerge not from the PIRA, but from some of the so-called Republican splinter groups. Initially, of course, the PIRA had been a splinter group itself, emerging from the internal schism about participation in parliamentary politics at the outset of the ‘troubles’. OIRA declared an unconditional, unilateral ceasefire in 1972, and even though the organisation continued to be involved in internecine feuding throughout the early 1970s, it completed its transformation to constitutional politics and became The Workers’ Party. Before it did, however, another splinter emerged in the form of the Irish National Liberation Army

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(INLA), which – for much of the ‘troubles’ – was the PIRA’s main rival in the Republican camp. The INLA – and its political wing, the Irish Republican Socialist Party – were decidedly socialist in their political outlook, yet its military operations were often crude and sometimes openly sectarian. Its greatest operational success was the assassination of Airey Neave, the Conservatives’ Northern Ireland spokesman and a close friend of Thatcher, in 1979. Indeed, it was during the late 1970s and early 1980s that the INLA reached its military climax. In the years thereafter, the INLA has been involved in a number of feuds, most prominently with a splinter group named the Irish People’s Liberation Organisation (IPLO). The INLA was an outspoken opponent of the peace process, and managed to kill the notorious Loyalist leader Billy Wright while he was imprisoned. After the Omagh bombing in 1998, even the INLA declared a ceasefire, yet remains active and is said to co-operate closely with other renegade Republican groups. It also remains involved in criminal activities as well as the policing of some Republican areas, especially in north Belfast.30 The Continuity IRA (CIRA) is the political wing of Republican Sinn Féin (RSF), which emerged when the mainstream Provisional Republican movement decided to allow successful candidates to take their seats in the Irish parliament in 1986. It represents a group of traditionalists, who believe that the Provisional leadership around Adams has betrayed the true Republican cause. CIRA remained inactive until 1996, presumably because of threats from the PIRA that a rival organisation would not be tolerated. Thereafter, it was responsible for a number of bomb attacks in Northern Ireland, but lost many members when the Real IRA (RIRA) was established in 1997. By the end of the 1990s, though, both groups had established close links, and it has by now become difficult to distinguish between the two. The IMC warns that CIRA remains ‘potentially dangerous’, that it has the capability to carry out large scale attacks, and that it is committed to ‘extreme acts of violence’.31 As mentioned, RIRA emerged during the last phase of the current political process, in late 1997, and represents another faction of traditionalists, who believe that the Provisional leadership has abandoned the quest for ‘Irish freedom’ in favour of conventional politics. There are close personal and political linkages between RIRA and the 32 County Sovereignty Committee, which can be described as RIRA’s political wing. For some time, it seemed as if RIRA presented the most serious challenge to the PIRA, not least because its founding members included the PIRA’s quartermaster general and its head of engineering. Hence, not only could the new group rely on the widespread discontent among hard line Republicans in order to attract recruits, it also possessed the skills and weaponry needed in order to launch a military campaign. However, following a series of small to medium scale attacks across the province, the group planted a car bomb in the city centre of Omagh (Co. Tyrone) in August 1998, which killed 29 people and two unborn children. This attack (the most serious single incident in the history of the ‘troubles’) instantly destroyed RIRA’s political legitimacy – even among the most traditionalist Republicans – and the organisation was compelled to declare an unconditional ceasefire some days later. In 2000, the group

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relaunched its campaign with a series of attacks on security forces installations in Northern Ireland, and the systematic attempt to hit targets in England, including an attack on the headquarters of the Secret Intelligence Service (MI6) with a rocket-propelled grenade. RIRA’s determination to destroy the Belfast Agreement is demonstrated by its frequent attacks on District Policing Partnerships and Catholic recruits to the police service. The IMC concludes that RIRA is a ‘very dangerous terrorist group’, and that it represents a threat to law and order in Northern Ireland as well as in England.32 Indeed, the comparison with groups like RIRA and CIRA demonstrates how far the Provisionals have come in the past 15 years. Even though they continue to have an ambiguous attitude towards the use of violence, and although uncertainty arises from the lack of clarity about the Provisionals’ political goals, the PIRA is responsible for significantly less violence now than it used to be, and when it occurs, it is generally used to make gains at the negotiating table rather than in order to destroy it. Also, it seems clear that Provisional leaders have now come to a point where a return to the violence of the 1970s is almost inconceivable – in fact, while he still cannot bring himself to declare the war to be over, Adams now feels confident enough to declare that it is his ambition to ‘bring an end to physical force Republicanism’.33

Loyalists The second group of paramilitary organisations in Northern Ireland are commonly described as Loyalist. Their main objectives are to maintain the Union between Great Britain and Northern Ireland, and to preserve the British way of life in the province. In that sense, Loyalists are not revolutionary in their political aims. On the contrary, they aim to defend the political status quo against the Republicans’ revolutionary aspirations. Steve Bruce has labelled this form of strategic posture ‘pro-state terrorism’.34 Others have simply described it as ‘reactive’, that is, had there not been a violent challenge to the status quo, the Loyalists would not have taken up arms.35 To understand the trajectory of the Loyalist campaign, one needs to look at their basic strategic posture, but also at the contradictions that are inherent in the nature of ‘pro-state terrorism’. Regarding the former, the terrorist activities of Loyalist paramilitaries were aimed at two target audiences. First, there was the British government, which was believed to be weak in its determination to uphold the constitutional link and defend British interests. In that respect, the existence of the Loyalist paramilitaries was meant to signal that any ‘sell-out’ would be resisted, and that – should the British government attempt to coerce the Protestants into a united Ireland – the paramilitaries would provide the military muscle necessary to take on the Crown forces and/or trigger a civil war. The second target audience were the Republicans (as well as the wider Nationalist community generally), who were actively engaged in the destruction of what the Loyalists wanted to preserve. Here, the aim was to maintain a so-called ‘balance of terror’, that is, to respond to Republican attacks on Protestants with equally

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ferocious assaults on the Catholic community, thereby hoping to deter further violence. At several points in the evolution of Loyalist terrorism, this also included attacks in the Republic of Ireland, which was thought to tolerate – if not actively support – the PIRA. It was, in fact, only in the latter stages of the Loyalist campaign that the paramilitaries went beyond the simplistic notion of ‘tit for tat’ and began to implement a strategic counter-offensive.36 The dynamics of violence in the years 1968–2001 demonstrate that the implementation of this strategic posture has been intimately related to the perception of constitutional insecurity.37 The first systematic campaign of terrorism by Loyalists occurred in the years 1971–1972, when it became obvious that the Unionist Home Rule government at Stormont was unable to contain the PIRA’s self-declared war. It continued in the following years during which the British government introduced several constitutional schemes, held secret talks with the PIRA’s leadership, and spread rumours that Britain was looking for ‘a way out’. In fact, of the 1,020 killings carried out by Loyalist paramilitaries in the 1968–2001 period, almost 600 took place in the four years between 1972 and 1976 (see Figure 3.1). This stands in marked contrast to the late 1970s and early 1980s, when Loyalist paramilitaries were responsible for ‘only’ around a dozen killings each year (see Figure 3.1). By then, not only had the security forces become more sophisticated in their efforts to track down the terrorists, the bellicose rhetoric of people like Northern Ireland Secretary Roy Mason and Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher had convinced most Protestants that the Union was safe and any ‘campaign of resistance’ unnecessary.38 This changed dramatically with the Anglo-Irish Agreement of 1985, when Protestants once again believed that the British government was about to abandon them. The consequence was an upsurge of Loyalist terrorism in the second half of the 1980s. The only exception to the pattern of constitutional (in) security-related violence occurred in the early 1990s. Before the main Loyalist paramilitary organisations – the Ulster Defence Association (UDA) and the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) – declared their ceasefires in 1994, they embarked on a strategic counteroffensive. Between 1989 and 1993, the Loyalist paramilitaries assassinated 26 members of Sinn Féin, the IRA and their relatives, creating a sense of paranoia and anxiety within the Republican movement that some observers credit with its decisive turn towards the peace process.39 To describe the ups and downs of their campaigns, however, is insufficient to provide for a full understanding of Loyalist paramilitarism. Despite the seemingly coherent evolutionary pattern, Loyalists often convey the image of ‘mindless thugs’, who are involved in seemingly endless feuds, the sectarian killing of innocent Catholics, and the pursuit of criminal activities for financial gain. Bruce suggests that an explanation for this divergence between theory and practice can be found in the fact that the Loyalists are ‘pro-state’. The absence of an inspiring political vision (after all, Loyalists aim to preserve, not to create) means that paramilitary activity in Loyalist organisations has a tendency to become an end in itself, lacking clear political and organisational cohesion. Loyalists also encounter far more difficulties than the Republicans in identifying

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suitable targets, as their enemies belong to small, conspiratorial groups rather than the official law enforcement agencies of the state. Furthermore, in contrast to the Catholic community, young Protestants who want to defend their community are offered a variety of legitimate as well as financially lucrative opportunities, such as joining the police force or the Army. The Loyalist paramilitaries, in turn, often end up with the least desirable category of recruits, namely those that have been rejected by the official agencies for lack of discipline, personal problems, or even drug abuse.40 Indeed, it is precisely this tension between the ambitious (as well as strategically sound) objectives and the more malign organisational dynamics of ‘prostate’ terrorism that has characterised the development of all the Loyalist paramilitary groups in Northern Ireland. The UDA is the largest paramilitary group on the Loyalist side. Launched in September 1971, its initial function was to serve as an umbrella for the various vigilante organisations that had sprung up all over Belfast. More than any other Loyalist paramilitary organisation, the UDA signified the implicit threat of ‘mass resistance’ should the British government decide to abandon the constitutional link with Northern Ireland: within little more than a year, its membership rose from about 300 to between 30,000 and 50,000, also absorbing many members from a variety of smaller groups such as, for example, Tara.41 In order to protect its status as a legitimate organisation (the UDA was outlawed only in 1992), the leadership adopted a nom de guerre – the Ulster Freedom Fighters (UFF) – for its terrorist activities. With a military hard core of about 100 terrorist operatives, it has been involved in all aspects of the Loyalist campaign, including sectarian ‘tit for tat’ killings, the bombing of civilian targets in Catholic areas, and the targeted assassination of Republicans. However, its size and federal structure (the organisation is ruled by an ‘Inner Council’ of six ‘brigadiers’ representing different areas of the province) amplified the self-destructive tendencies of Loyalist paramilitarism, resulting in a reputation for lack of discipline, vicious infighting and heavy involvement in organised crime. In the late 1980s, internal feuding as well as the numerous arrests following the so-called Stevens inquiry made way for a younger generation of paramilitary leaders, who were untainted by the ‘corruption’ of their predecessors. What followed was a more vicious, yet also more effective, campaign of terrorism against Republican activists and – in Colin Crawford’s words – ‘retaliatory sectarian murder’.42 The UVF was founded in 1966 by Gusty Spence, who was responsible for the killing of two Catholic civilians in the same year.43 For some years, it lay dormant but reappeared in 1971, when it embarked on its first systematic campaign of terrorism. In stark contrast to the UDA, the UVF has always been a small, conspiratorial group whose active personnel never numbered more than a few dozen. Despite its smaller size, the UVF has undoubtedly been the more violent of the two main Loyalist groups. It was responsible for the greatest loss of life in a single day, when it planted bombs in Dublin and Monaghan on 17 May 1974, killing 33 civilians.44 At the end of that decade, a Belfast member, Lenny Murphy, led the so-called ‘Shankhill Butchers’ who were – quite literally

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– butchering dozens of innocent Catholics, displaying a sadism unparalleled even by the standards of Northern Ireland.45 The UVF always prided itself in being more professional and politically astute than its UDA rivals. While this may have been true for some parts of the organisation (especially its imprisoned volunteers), the UVF as a whole has suffered from the same problems as the UDA, that is, betrayal by informers, lack of central control and discipline, as well as internal corruption. By the mid-1990s, it became obvious that the emerging political process had imposed heavy strains on the organisation, resulting in the emergence of a breakaway faction in Mid-Ulster in 1996, which became the Loyalist Volunteer Force (LVF). In contrast to the IRA, the Loyalist paramilitaries have not managed to become successful participants in the political process. The reason for this failure is not necessarily that Loyalists have been less interested in political participation than their Republican counterparts. As early as 1972–1973, when the IRA was still obsessed with a military victory, representatives from both Loyalist organisations had already started talking about a political solution. The stoppage of 1974, which brought down the Sunningdale Executive, was a catalyst in that the Loyalist paramilitaries recognised the potential of political activism. Indeed, by forming the (short-lived) Volunteer Political Party, the UVF launched its first foray into electoral politics shortly afterwards.46 By the end of the 1970s, with the UVF’s Progressive Unionist Party (PUP) and the UDA’s New Ulster Political Research Group (which eventually became the Ulster Democratic Party, UDP), both groups had established their respective ‘political wings’. Furthermore, it is also mistaken to think that Loyalists have been less innovative than the mainstream Unionist parties in their political thinking. On the contrary, much of the political activism by Loyalist leaders derived from their frustration at the conservatism of the ‘Unionist establishment’, and – in stark contrast to their military activities – they embraced ideas like the codification of civil rights, cross-community co-operation and ‘voluntary coalitions’ between Unionists and Nationalists far earlier than constitutional Unionism. In addition, within the UVF, there was a significant socialist tendency, which promoted the replacement of sectarian divisions through working-class unity. Parts of the UDA, on the other hand, became strong advocates of Northern Ireland independence.47 Rather than being the result of a lack of political interest or imagination, the Loyalists’ failure to ‘broaden the battlefield’ needs to be explained with reference to the difficulties and inconsistencies of Loyalist paramilitarism to which we referred earlier. As ‘pro-state terrorists’, Loyalists have always had problems in resolving the contradiction that it was necessary to break the law in order to preserve it. While for Republicans, the entire system was unjust and terrorist activities could be legitimised on that basis, Loyalists were hard-pressed to justify their involvement in what many ordinary, law-abiding Unionists considered heinous crimes. In fact, even if some Unionists implicitly acknowledged the need for people to be involved in extra-legal activities to defeat the enemies of the state, this did not imply that they believed these people to be effective

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representatives in the political arena. In Bruce’s words, there has always been a ‘division of labour’ in the Unionist camp, which meant that attempts by the paramilitaries to encroach on the territory occupied by the constitutional Unionists would not be rewarded by the Protestant electorate.48 Apart from winning the occasional council seat, neither the PUP nor the UDP managed to gain any significant electoral mandate. Indeed, to ensure their inclusion into the political process, the voting system for the 1996 Northern Ireland Forum elections had to be tailored (some would say, rigged) to allow for the representation of parties that would not have won any seats under normal circumstances. While the PUP managed to sustain its performance somewhat (it won two seats at the 1998 Assembly elections, maintaining one in 2002), the UDP has since disappeared, leaving the UDA with only scant political representation. The fragmentation of the Loyalist paramilitaries since the conclusion of the Belfast Agreement in 1998 can be seen as a culmination of all the various influences described above. Given the unease about the peace process within the Unionist community as a whole, it should come as no surprise that the Loyalist paramilitaries were equally divided about the merits of the Agreement, and that significant sections within both organisations objected to their leaderships’ strong endorsement of the peace process. Significantly, this policy disagreement occurred at a time when there was renewed uncertainty among Protestants about their future as part of the United Kingdom, resulting from demographic changes that are perceived as a gradual Catholic take-over by many Protestants.49 Hence, while some observers are right to argue that maverick paramilitary leaders like Johnny Adair are driven by selfish motives,50 it is also true that they address some genuine fears among their constituency. As a result, rather than towards peaceful conflict resolution and political transformation, the current state of Ulster Loyalism points towards a ferocious power struggle of which the recent feuds within the UDA, as well as between the UDA and the UVF, were just a taster. It is reasonable to expect the Loyalist paramilitaries to represent a continuous source of instability for years to come. Indeed, the IMC concludes that both the UDA and the LVF are committed to continue their involvement in criminal activities and the systematic use of violence, and that the UVF would ‘not hesitate [to end its ceasefire] if they judged the circumstances made it appropriate’.51

Conclusion This chapter provided an outline of the strategic evolution of the main paramilitary factions in the Northern Ireland conflict. They included the various groups on the Republican side – most prominently the PIRA – which conducted a campaign of revolutionary terrorism aimed at overthrowing the existing system of government in Northern Ireland. We also covered the Loyalist paramilitaries – represented mainly by the UVF and the UDA – that are pro-state in their orientation: their actions served to preserve the existing system of government, which is, maintaining the constitutional relationship with Great Britain.

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It was shown how the conflict evolved, and what factors influenced the evolution of the paramilitary campaigns on both sides. Consideration was also given to influences that lay outside the purely rational framework of combining aims and means. On the Republican side, for example, it was pointed out that the PIRA derived legitimacy from its perceived role as ‘defenders’ of the Catholic community, and that there was an inherent element of sectarianism interfering with the supposedly non-sectarian mission of creating an Irish Republic uniting ‘Protestant, Catholic, and Dissenter’. For the Loyalists, in addition to the element of sectarianism, there were substantial problems with recruitment, as well as problems with central control and discipline which can be seen as a result of their pro-state orientation. If our aim is to provide a threat assessment, it seems useful to distinguish between different kinds of threats. All of the paramilitary groups described in this chapter have posed a threat to the lives of innocent citizens, and most of them will continue to do so, even though it is fair to say that the threat from the Provisional IRA has declined significantly over the course of the past decade. If we define threat in the widest, political sense, we may conclude that the paramilitaries have long ceased to represent a serious threat in terms of forcing a major change of policy upon the British government. The only exception is the PIRA, which – in 1972 – succeeded in bringing down Stormont. Thereafter, the group failed to capitalise on its victory, lost strategic momentum, and – while undoubtedly being a dangerous nuisance – had no realistic chance of ever achieving its objectives through a terrorist campaign. In fact, as we have shown, it is this insight which triggered the group’s desire to become part of a political process that led to the conclusion of the Belfast Agreement of 1998. The third – and possibly the most relevant – level is located in what could be described as a ‘grey area’ between the individual and the ‘grand political’ arenas. While the paramilitaries in Northern Ireland may currently not be in a position to achieve their political aims, they are contributing to the distortion of the political process. This is not only true for the paramilitary groups that are still engaged in active military campaigns, but also for those that have declared ceasefires and are ‘only’ involved in low-level violence, such as the PIRA. The implicit threat of a return to full-scale military campaigns, as well as their role in paramilitary policing and criminal activities, have destabilised the entire political framework and therefore made the implementation of the Belfast Agreement more difficult, if not impossible. This, indeed, is the primary lesson from the Northern Ireland conflict: that ceasefires do not equal peace, and that any effort at bringing about a political settlement needs to ensure the complete demobilisation of all paramilitary groups. The alternative is the entrenchment of a culture of paramilitarism that may not represent a serious threat to the wider constitutional framework, but which will be a permanent and recurring obstacle to the process of reconciliation and peace-making.

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Notes 1 For a critical discussion of the term ‘paramilitary’, see Adrian Guelke (1995) ‘Paramilitaries, Republicans and Loyalists’, in Seamus Dunn (ed.), Facets of the Conflict in Northern Ireland (London: St. Martin’s Press). 2 All casualty figures in this chapter are based on Malcolm Sutton’s Index of Deaths, which can be found on the website of the Conflict Archive on the Internet (CAIN); see http://cain.ulst.ac.uk. 3 For a summary of Irish Republican ideology, see Joost Augusteijn (2003) ‘Political violence and democracy: an analysis of the tensions within Irish Republican strategy, 1914–2002’, Irish Political Studies, 18:1; also M.L.R. Smith (1995) Fighting for Ireland? The Military Strategy of the Irish Republican Movement (London: Routledge), pp. 6–29. 4 Quoted from the IRA’s so-called ‘Green Book’, in Tim Pat Coogan (1987) The IRA, 3rd edition (London: Fontana). 5 For details of the split, see Patrick Bishop and Eamonn Mallie (1987) The Provisional IRA (London: Corgi), chapter 7. 6 O’Bradaigh, quoted in Conor Cruise O’Brien (1972) States of Ireland (London: Hutchinson), p. 229. 7 M.L.R. Smith (1997) ‘Fin de Siècle, 1972: the Provisional IRA’s strategy and the beginning of the eight-thousand-day stalemate’, in Alan O’Day (ed.), Political Violence in Northern Ireland: Conflict and Conflict Resolution (Westport, CO: Praeger), p. 30. 8 For the strategic impact of the invasion of the ‘no go’ area, see M.L.R. Smith and Peter R. Neumann (2004) ‘Motorman’s long journey’, Contemporary British History, 18:3. 9 Bishop, p. 275. 10 ‘Army Staff Report’, quoted in Coogan, p. 581. 11 Another example would be the 1993 Shankhill bombing, which killed seven Protestant customers of a fish shop on a busy Saturday afternoon. See Andrew Silke (2003) ‘Beyond horror: terrorist atrocity and the search for understanding – the case of the Shankhill bombing’, Studies in Conflict and Terrorism, 26:1. 12 Former leading IRA member Martin Meehan, interview with author, 3 December 2003. 13 Ed Moloney (2002) A Secret History of the IRA (London: Penguin), pp. 20–22. 14 Hughes, quoted in Peter Taylor (2002) Brits: The War Against the IRA (London: Bloomsbury), p. 208. 15 Eamonn Mallie and David McKittrick (1997) The Fight for Peace, 2nd edition (London: Mandarin), pp. 38–39. 16 ‘Agitate educate, liberate’, Republican News, 22 May 1976. 17 ‘Active abstentionism’, Republican News, 18 October 1975. 18 See Brian Feeney (2002) Sinn Féin: A Hundred Turbulent Years (Dublin: O’Brien Press), p. 303. 19 Danny Morrison, who stood in the Mid Ulster constituency, failed to win by merely 78 votes. For details of this election (and all other elections), see http://cain.ulst.ac.uk/ issues/politics/election/rw1983.htm. 20 See, for example, a 1982 Guardian interview in which Adams stated that ‘Sinn Féin would not only defend the IRA’s right to wage armed struggle but have the job . . . of popularising support [for it]’; quoted in David Sharrock and Mark Devenport (1997) Man of War, Man of Peace? The Unauthorized Biography of Gerry Adams (London: Macmillan), p. 196. 21 Danny Morrison, interview with author, 4 December 2003. 22 Moloney, p. 313. 23 Jerrold M. Post (1997) ‘Group and organisational dynamics of political terrorism:

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24 25 26 27

28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50

P.R. Neumann implications for counterterrorist policy’, in Paul Wilkinson and Alasdair M. Stewart (eds), Contemporary Research on Terrorism (Aberdeen: Aberdeen University Press), p. 312. Quoted in Moloney, p. 299. For an example, see Moloney, p. 396. Henry Patterson (1997) The Politics of Illusion: A Political History of the IRA (London: Serif), p. 220. Adams, quoted in James Dingley (2002) ‘Marching down the Garvaghy Road: Republican tactics and state response to the Orangemen’s claim to march their traditional route home after the Drumcree church service’, Terrorism and Political Violence, 14:3, p. 55. Quoted in Moloney, p. 437. See Independent Monitoring Commission (IMC) (2004) First Report by the Independent Monitoring Commission (London: HMSO), p.14; http://news.bbc.co. uk/nol/shared/bsp/hi/pdfs/20_04_04_imcreport.pdf. For an extensive history of INLA and its history of feuding, see Jack Holland and Henry McDonald (1994) INLA: Deadly Divisions (Dublin: Poolbeg Press). IMC, pp. 11–12. Ibid., pp. 14–15. Adams’ speech at the 2003 Sinn Féin party conference; see www.sinnfein.ie/peace/ speech/35. Steve Bruce (1992) ‘The problem of pro-state terrorism: Loyalist paramilitaries in Northern Ireland’, Terrorism and Political Violence, 4:1, pp. 67–88. See Alan F. Parkinson (1998) Ulster Loyalism and the British Media (Dublin: Four Courts Press), chapter 3. Lyndsey Harris (2003) The Strategies of Loyalist Paramilitaries in Northern Ireland, BA dissertation, King’s College London, pp. 25–33. John McGarry and Brendan O’Leary (1995) Explaining Northern Ireland (Oxford: Blackwell), pp. 162–163. See Peter R. Neumann (2003) ‘Winning the “War on Terror”? Roy Mason’s contribution to counter-terrorism in Northern Ireland’, Small Wars and Insurgencies, 14:3, pp. 45–64. Peter Taylor (1999) Loyalists (London: Bloomsbury), pp. 213, 234. Steve Bruce (1992) The Red Hand – Protestant Paramilitaries in Northern Ireland (Oxford: Oxford University Press), chapter 11. See Taylor, Loyalists, p. 83; also W.D. Flackes and Sydney Elliott (1999) Northern Ireland: a Political Directory, 1968–99 (Belfast: Blackstaff), pp. 474–475. Colin Crawford (2003) Inside the UDA (London: Pluto Press), chapter 7. For an early account of the UVF, see David Boulton (1973) The UVF: An Anatomy of Loyalist Rebellion (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan). Jim Cusack and Henry McDonald (2003) UVF, 2nd edition (Dublin: Poolbeg), pp. 119–136. See Martin Dillon (1989) The Shankhill Butchers (London: Grafton Books). For a concise history of the Volunteer Political Party, see Sarah Nelson (1984) Ulster’s Uncertain Defenders (Belfast: Appletree Press), pp. 171–191. For a summary of the core political positions, see Steve Bruce (1994) The Edge of the Union: The Ulster Loyalist Political Vision (Oxford: Oxford University Press), chapter 4. Bruce, The Red Hand (Oxford: Oxford University Press) p. 242. Peter R. Neumann (2002) ‘The imperfect peace: explaining paramilitary violence in Northern Ireland’, Low-Intensity Conflict and Law Enforcement, 11:1, pp. 128–130. See David Lister and Hugh Jordan (2003) Mad Dog: The Rise and Fall of Johnny Adair and ‘C’ Company (London: Mainstream). Also Andrew Silke (2000) ‘Drinks,

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drugs, and rock’n’roll: financing Loyalist terrorism in Northern Ireland – part two’, Studies in Conflict and Terrorism, 23:2; Andrew Silke (1998) ‘In defense of the realm: financing Loyalist terrorism in Northern Ireland – part one: extortion and blackmail’, Studies in Conflict and Terrorism, 21:4. 51 IMC, pp. 17–18.

4

Terrorist strategy and tactics James Dingley

Introduction The main emphasis in this chapter will be on the Provisional IRA (PIRA), simply because they were the main terrorist group against which the security forces had to operate and a specific threat to the state. While there were other Republican groups, i.e. anti-state, such as the Official IRA, INLA and later splinter groups such as the Real and Continuity IRA, the PIRA was always the major threat against whom the state had to focus. The PIRA were originally a split from what became the Official IRA in 1970, and later splinter groups then emerged from the PIRA. There were also Loyalist terrorist groups, primarily the UDA, UVF and UFF, but these never constituted a threat to the state, nor did they target the security forces, which were relatively easy to deal with. In addition Loyalist groups were pro-state and mostly a reactive response against what was often seen as the states inability to properly respond to the Republican threat.1 The PIRA, thus, were the main threat that the state had to mobilise against. In fact the security forces (police and Army) tended to regard the Loyalists (extreme Protestant/Unionist) as an unwanted diversion of time and resources from the primary Republican threat. Further, they also tended to see Loyalists more as organised criminals, low-level and with a nasty sectarian edge, whose main concern was with vengeance attacks against Catholics (the population from which Republicans recruited) and self-enriching criminal thugs – ‘hoods’ who gave a bad name to Protestant/Unionist pro-state supporters.2 Meanwhile, Republican splinter groups often helped to confuse things slightly, although they occasionally ‘helped’ the security forces by engaging in some nasty internecine feuds that left Republicans dead and demoralised their supporters. However, in more recent years such splinter groups as the ‘Real’ and ‘Continuity’ IRA have also acted as a proxy for the PIRA. The membership of these groups often overlapped and the splinter groups operated in areas controlled by the PIRA, who could easily have stopped their operations. As the PIRA were officially on ceasefire and/or in government in Northern Ireland it was more opportune to have these splinter groups carrying out acts on their behalf. The aim of proxy terrorism was to nudge political developments along via violence without the PIRA being formally involved and held accountable.3

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Consequently this chapter will begin with a brief review of these ‘other players’ to clear the way for the real foe – the PIRA. But, before that, a brief resume about the situation in Northern Ireland is required. The population is divided between 60 per cent Protestant and 40 per cent Catholic, who (apart from the middle-classes) live in fairly well segregated areas. Protestants are almost wholly Unionist (the more extreme being referred to as Loyalists) who wish to retain their position as part of the UK. Catholics are more complex in their national aspirations, a majority would aspire to a united Ireland, but many are relatively lukewarm on the issue and a sizeable minority wish to retain the Union (UK). Nationalism is the term for moderate Catholics who generally do not support violence, Republican is the term retained for Catholics who deny the legitimacy of the state in Northern Ireland (UK) and regard the use of violence to overthrow it as legitimate (primarily Sinn Féin/IRA). These divisions and attitudes go back hundreds of years and were the basis for the partition of Ireland in the 1920s, which most Nationalists and all Republicans deemed unfair and unjust to them. Unionists and Protestants disagreed. Republicans saw this as British imperialism, Unionists as self-determination. Loyalists (a small minority) thus see it as legitimate to use extra-state violence to maintain their state, especially when Republicans use violence to attack it and the state seems unable to respond effectively.4

Other players The IRA split in 1970 into the PIRA and the Officials (‘Stickies’) due to differences over future activities following the serious civil disturbances and sectarian riots of the late 1960s. The then IRA was under Southern command (Dublin) and heavily influenced by Marxists. Interestingly, in 1970, they wanted to limit armed activity to the defence of Catholic areas, since they saw it as divisive and sectarian (preventing working-class unity) to go beyond that. They were also aware of the major material benefits accruing to all Protestants and Catholics as part of the UK, with its extensive welfare state, not available in the Republic. The PIRA were thus a dissident splinter group led by Northern Catholics who wanted to go beyond simply defending Catholics in Ulster to attacking the state and bringing it down, thus instigating a united Ireland (they believed).5 The Officials while maintaining a terrorist campaign of a ‘defensive’ nature tried to concentrate more on politics and building working-class solidarity (not very successfully). They later metamorphosed in to the Workers Party and produced some far sighted analysis and policy documents (along with the British and Irish Communist Organisation – BICO – they were one of the few groups to recognise the fundamental economic differences behind Nationalism and Unionism),6 but had little impact on what was fundamentally a bitter sectarian dispute. They ceased to be a real terrorist threat. INLA, also claiming to be socialist, were a later split in the 1970s who believed that the Official IRA had ceased to be a genuine revolutionary and Republican movement. They were committed to a more violent campaign and

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later became quite deeply involved in many criminal activities, especially drugs. They fought several ‘turf’ wars with the PIRA but also cooperated with them at times, their biggest success being the murder of the senior Conservative politician Airey Neave in the House of Commons in 1979. And during the Hunger Strikes had several members participate.7 Generally their campaign lacked focus and direction, but had a higher level of violence associated with it. However, they were never seen as the real threat by the state and had petered out as a significant player by the 1980s.8 Continuity IRA had their roots in similar disputes within the PIRA in the 1980s. They did not become very active until the 1990s when they violently opposed the PIRA’s peace process leading up to the Belfast Agreement (1998) when they planted a few bombs, but not of any great significance.9 The Real IRA was different. Formed after the PIRA decision to enter talks in the 1990s they took large numbers of very dissatisfied PIRA members with them, who also had good logistical and training backgrounds and access to PIRA arms and explosives. In the late 1990s they set off a series of major bombs in Northern Irish towns, their most significant being the Omagh bomb (1998). While they displayed a major capacity to continue a terror campaign such was the reaction to Omagh that they found it judicious to call a halt to it.10 Since then they have attempted to restart their campaign but have been successfully countered by the security forces. What both Continuity and the Reals’ have shown is a commitment to the ideal of violence in itself and a purist vision of the ultimate ideal (united Ireland) and nothing else. What these two groups illustrate well is a belief in violence almost as an end in itself, something fundamental to many terror campaigns and important in understanding terrorist strategy. Here one has to look at the Romantic origins of much terrorist philosophy and ethnic nationalism in particular: for the Romantics violence was an admired thing in itself, blood letting was blood cleansing, purifying and sanctifying in itself, making a cause holy.11 Beyond that dissidents strategy is rather hazy and lacks direction, a point I will return to. In essence they offered little more than the PIRA did for much of its campaign, most of their members being recruited directly from the PIRA, so they may have significance beyond their own direct support level in terms of our understanding of terrorist strategy and tactics. The Loyalists present a different picture. They actually initiated the first terrorist attacks back in the 1960s and also some of the worst atrocities of the whole campaign. The 1960s were a period of change (social, economic and political) that created much instability in Northern Ireland and generated fears in sections of the Unionist community that the Union was under threat. This especially related to some of the excesses of the civil rights campaigns, both in hyperbole and tactics, and the role of some known Republicans in it.12 However naïve it was, this impelled Loyalist violence at first. They committed several brutal murders of Catholics and set off several bombs, hoping that these would be accredited to the IRA. Their aim was to stir up fear and panic to galvanise Unionists to recognise a perceived threat and to mobilise against it. They wanted

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to ensure the status quo of the Union and Unionist control of Northern Ireland was maintained. Thus we have the first element of a strategy, resistance to change perceived as a threat and the tactic was to maximise fears through violence.13 Loyalist tactics then helped to set off a Catholic revolt, that was already being connived at by Republicans14 that rapidly got out of hand and developed into a real armed terrorist insurrection. This grew in ferocity and an unprepared state found it difficult to respond effectively, leading to a second Loyalist strategic response. The 1970s saw a full blooded PIRA campaign underway and the increased involvement of the Republic of Ireland (Dublin) in events north and south of the border. Indeed not only was the PIRA known to be operating from bases in the Republic but there were strong rumours of some Dublin support for the PIRA.15 In addition the Republic had a longstanding constitutional claim over the territory of Northern Ireland and was regarded by Loyalists as being sympathetic to PIRA aims and objectives. Consequently Loyalists were responsible for two major bombs in Dublin and Monaghan that killed and maimed scores of citizens there.16 Thus we see the second strand to a strategy – to warn off ‘foreign’ interference. The message was clear, to bring mayhem and carnage to warn off the Republic from involvement in Northern Ireland – a pre-emptive strike. This is probably the closest Loyalists get to a thought out strategy, but it is a potent one. It is also something that has been seen since in the shootings of Catholics within Northern Ireland in more recent years. Mostly such attacks have taken place when Republicans appear to be on the advance or have carried out some particular atrocity and the security forces have appeared incapable of responding.17 Loyalists again feel threatened and respond by crudely signifying to Catholics the costs of Republican successes, since Loyalists tend to see all Catholics as potentially disloyal and harbouring terrorists in their communities. However gross a distortion it is how they think, although by the 1990s they began to be a bit more aware and their targeting of Catholics who were directly involved in Republican activity became quite precise. How effective this was as a strategy is debatable, but security force members certainly believed that it began to affect Republican thought and tactics – a strategy of deterrence.18 Apart from this, Loyalists have little significance in the ‘big picture’. The security forces have tended to despise them as sectarian bigots and murderers, very often recruited from elements unable to gain acceptance into the security forces (UDR/RIR, regular Army and police). They are also seen as largely criminal, running a string of protection rackets, drug dealerships and pirating scams. While ostensibly political they are seen as more interested in personal gain and private criminal fiefdoms: their general level of community support is reflected in their electoral performances, generally less than 4 per cent of the popular vote.19 For the government they were a useful counterweight in negotiations with Republicans, a hoary old distraction of balance between terrorists, but few took them seriously. They have been nasty and brutal but are not a credible political or terrorist threat, did not target the security forces or

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state representatives and were seen as a distraction from the real event – the PIRA and Republicans.

PIRA strategy and tactics The strategic aim of the PIRA was, and still is, the abolition of the state in Northern Ireland and the creation of an all-Ireland Republic. What kind of state that will be they are a bit hazy on, they talk of a socialist republic (but not so loudly since the demise of the Soviet bloc) but seem reluctant to say precisely what this will mean or represent. However, while they deny being sectarian and in pursuit of a Catholic triumphalism the only clear thing that a united Ireland would bring is a Catholic majority and Republicans are exclusively Catholic and have been since the early nineteenth century. And more than one commentator has observed that their socialism bears a closer resemblance to Catholic social teaching than to anything else.20 Socialism, which is always a pitch at organised industrial labour in any country, had always had a lukewarm reception amongst the only organised industrial labour force in Ireland – the Ulster Protestant/Unionist working-class. It is ironic then that they form the core of opposition to Republicans, which should tell one something about their socialism.21 Meanwhile the (social democratic) British Labour Party will not organise in Northern Ireland and formally recognises the constitutional Nationalist party (SDLP) as its sister party in the Province, despite the fact that most organised labour will not touch it and is solidly Unionist. This may give one an idea of the inadequate thinking on Northern Ireland from all sides that not only hampers political debate and development but also the idea of any clear counter PIRA strategy. It is thus very difficult, for anyone with any knowledge of either socialism or Northern Ireland, to think that a united Ireland really means anything other than simply a Catholic dominated Ireland (many ethnic identities are driven by religion).22 In that, of course, Republicans could find a cultural compatibility, outlet and place for their own cultural expression they cannot find in a Protestant dominated Northern Ireland (which also works the other way round). Apart from that and the non-specific socialism there is also a great lack of any clear policy ideas, economic, social, public or other, from which to judge the PIRA’s envisioned Ireland. This in itself may assist our understanding of their strategy since there is often a strong correlation between violence and lack of clarity or reason in human behaviour.23 Lack of clear, rational thought leaves wide open spaces for emotion to take over and violence is a major emotional expression. This fits in with the known nature and ideology of ethno-separatist nationalism, where a subjective concept of the ‘volk’ as a kind of metaphysical being takes precedence over any concept of the people in objective terms of material welfare and individual rights. The PIRA’s is therefore a strategy built on ethno-separatist nationalism – unity of the (Catholic) volk.24 Strongly allied to this is the role of community. Republican areas are most notably those with a strong, close-knit community ethos, and exclusively

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Catholic. Such communities have been noted in the past to have a greater propensity to violence and an imperviousness to outside (usually more rational and critical) thought.25 In addition the traditional Catholic education that lies behind the formation of most Republican minds was notoriously hostile to scientific thought, which emphasises clarity, objectivity and rationality. Catholic education emphasised the arts and literature and was grounded in scholastic philosophy, which opposed science.26 This in turn blended in with the Romantic origins of modern Republicanism that rejected Enlightenment ideals of science and reason for emotion and expression. Very specifically it eulogised not only emotion but also violence. Violence was pure, unmediated and direct from the soul, pure expression, unlike science that was artificial, constructed and material. Emotion and violence for Romantics are uncorrupted being.27 Violence also links in with suffering, another great emotional experience. Great suffering helps imbue a sense of sacredness to a cause. The suffering and passion of Christ is a frequently invoked sentiment in Christianity, especially Catholicism, and was often found conflated with Republican symbols and historical (Patrick Pearse) and contemporary (hunger strikers) figures. Indeed, many of the Catholic wall murals specifically invoked Christ-like figures (hunger strikers) or Virgin Mary like images of Mother Ireland grieving over her crucified sons.28 The more people suffer or can be seen to be suffering the greater the legitimacy given to a Romantic cause. The need for empirical evidence and rational explanation is bypassed for an emotive appeal and identification. And communal suffering has the added advantage of drawing a community closer together and making it more impervious to outside influences and reason.29 In other words, on an ideological level, violence may well be an end in itself for many Republicans. The strategic aim of violence is just that – violence, the expression and emotional outlet of frustrated feelings and aspirations that cannot be met (so they think) through reason and material conditions, which also acts to maintain communal bonds. And worst of all for Romantics is compromise, the greatest of sins since it corrupts the ideal.30 This in itself, I would suggest, is a major strategic factor in PIRA violence, and particularly for their splinter groups. Such violence also enables small people to become big players and gain status and prestige in their own communities and later outside of them, if they are successful. Controllers of violence impact on us all in a very simple and uncomplicated manner, we have to listen to them, even when they are not sure what they really want. Real solutions to real material problems in a complex material world require great thought, skill and extensive training for often only minimal recognition and rewards. Violence bypasses all that for emotional impact and immediate celebrity. This may well help explain the mystification of many as to what the PIRA (and many other terrorist groups) really want and what actually is their point and strategy. A big mistake is often to seek a rational reason for violence when its real reason is the irrational. While most Republicans would deny that the ‘troubles’ are about ethnic nationalism their politics has an almost perfect fit with it. Republicans would deny this because it implies that Unionists are also an ethnic group, who thus

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have legitimate ethnic national rights to reasonably counter the demands of Republicans. Unionists and Nationalists can be seen to fit all the criteria for two ethnic groups (specifically as religious based cultures and identities with important economic implications), in which case we can read Northern Ireland as an ethnic conflict. This again is important since ethnic nationalism ties in very closely with all the ideals of Romantic thought.31 Read the PIRA’s campaign as an ethnic struggle for ethnic (Irish Catholic) supremacy and the ‘troubles’ make perfect sense. And all nationalisms (and religions) play heavily on the symbolic role of violence and sacrifice (to die for one’s country, to make the ultimate sacrifice and similar rhetoric). For the above reasons we need to think beyond the activists stated aims, objectives and analysis, since they are often impelled by ideas and understandings they may not fully appreciate themselves or can rationalise away but are vital to an understanding of their strategy and tactics. Equally, we must also consider their stated aims as a starting point since this is what impels even their unreasoned motives. Indeed, my own research experience has been that Republicans really believe what they say and find any scepticism over it almost incomprehensible. How they see the world and how they reason from that, no matter how objectively irrational, is crucial to understanding them.

The PIRA world view This begins with the partition of Ireland that they view as unjust and an initial denial of their rights and Nationalist ideas of self-determination. They claim the island of Ireland as a natural whole or nation and partition as artificially imposed by the British to maintain its imperialist domination of Ireland. From this it is implicit that the British have some colonial interest in subjugating Ireland, although what precisely is a mystery the PIRA never provide an answer to.32 As such the idea of a Unionist Northern Ireland as constituting its own ‘national’ entity with its consequent rights to self-determination is excluded from their consciousness, as is the idea of Unionists having any legitimate being, interests or autonomous will. Unionist reluctance to become part of a united Ireland can then be dismissed as either the result of a false consciousness or a deliberate construct of British Imperialism. Either way Unionists are dismissed as British dupes, misled as to their true Irish being or conversely as a British garrison of occupation carrying out the imperial will.33 This view has dominated Republican thought since the nineteenth century but began to be rethought in the 1960s by what became the Officials and led to the revision of tactics and strategy behind the split in 1970, which followed the civil rights campaign and sectarian riots of the late 1960s.34 In effect the PIRA became the wing that wished to retain the traditional view of British Imperialism and armed struggle and rejected the Officials ‘socialist’ strategy of forging working-class unity. However, the civil rights campaign was the immediate catalyst of the present troubles and needs to be tackled first as the initial phase of a modern Republican strategy.

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Claims of discrimination and denial of civil rights led to early demonstrations and the first major clashes. Much has been made of these claims and many would regard them as the real cause behind ‘the ‘troubles’’ and their ending as the basis for peace and reconciliation, but this is not true. While sectarian discrimination did exist against Catholics it was often exaggerated and had also to be seen against a refusal of large parts of the Nationalist community to accept the state or take up opportunities open to them, hence a fair degree of selfexclusion.35 Also, Nationalists were quite adept at their own discrimination when the opportunity arose.36 Mutual segregation and dislike were more the case and any community (Nationalists) that defines itself as anti-state must expect a certain degree of exclusion. However, the majority Unionist population was more than happy to let Nationalists define themselves out since it often meant that they did not need to discriminate any more than they had to. Most importantly Republicans did not and do not regard civil rights and discrimination as their raison d’etre, it was a useful platform from which to mobilise and agitate against the state, to undermine it on the path to a united Ireland.37 In fact the more discrimination the better for them as it allowed them to pose a united Ireland as the only way to end all wrongs. Republican violence, which was implicitly sectarian, may now be seen as helping to increase divisions and bitterness, assisting them to galvanise (Catholic) community support and so weaken the state. In addition, and usually overlooked, just prior to the ‘troubles’ community relations were getting better, old sectarianism was breaking down and a reforming Unionist government was genuinely committed to a new era of liberal tolerance under O’Neill.38 However, to the PIRA any discrimination was the product of partition and only an end to it would bring equality and civil rights in their eyes. Indeed, there is now evidence to suggest a Republican hand behind the civil rights campaign as a new way forward after the failure of the 1956–1962 IRA campaign, largely because northern Catholics ignored it.39 Civil rights, for Republicans (although not for others), was thus more of a tactic and may be regarded as phase one of their campaign. However, given the complete ignorance of both London and Dublin, let alone the outside world, of Northern Ireland this was something that passed them by. Out of this emerged the riots and civil disorder that led to the second phase of IRA thinking (1969). This was primarily the defence of Catholic neighbourhoods against Protestant mobs during the communal riots they had at least helped to foment, especially where an undermanned police (RUC) were unable to cope (resulting in the Army being called in to provide assistance), at times because there was a deliberate plan to organise Province wide rioting to ensure that the RUC could not cope.40 Phase two was and remains defence of Catholic neighbourhoods against attacks and incursions. It was when sections of the IRA wanted to go on the offensive that a split occurred in 1970. The offensive wing became Provisional IRA who saw in the situation an opportunity to re-launch an armed campaign against the state, as against the (Marxist) Officials who saw such a tactic as sectarian in terms of working-class unity.41 the PIRA’s prime target was the ‘home rule’ Parliament at Stormont, regarded as the bastion of

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Unionism and puppet of British Imperialism.42 To do this they wished to create as much mayhem and chaos as possible, to undermine Stormont by making the Province ungovernable. In this they largely succeeded via bombings, shootings, riots and other violence on such a scale that it overwhelmed the resources and ability of Stormont to cope. In 1972 the PIRA duly succeeded and ‘direct rule’ was introduced from London.43 This became almost inevitable given the scale of the violence and the fact that the regular Army was now being used on a large scale to supplement and support normal policing. Since the regular Army was constitutionally the responsibility of London any long term and extensive use of it made London’s direct rule inevitable for constitutional reasons alone. In addition, by this time the PIRA’s campaign of violence now had such media coverage and international implications (especially with the Republic of Ireland, the European Community and America) that direct responsibility by London could no longer be avoided. However, it says much about the underlying causes of Northern Ireland’s problems that this was something they desperately wanted to avoid but that the PIRA desperately wanted. Direct rule meant that the PIRA could confront Britain directly and openly target their forces and interests and so exert direct pressure on them to concede to their demands for the abolition of the border. The strategy here was simple – to bomb and shoot the ‘Brits out’. Maximum use of violence in the form of indiscriminate bombings and shootings that totally undermined normal life and wrecked the local economy and so produced maximum costs, chaos and threats to life was the aim. It also extended to bombings in mainland Britain, hoping to exert pressure for a ‘troops out’ (of Northern Ireland) movement there. This can be regarded as phase three, to make the cost of maintaining British rule so exorbitant that the British would willingly give in and leave (handing the Unionists over to Republicans), thus paving the way for an united Ireland.44 Hence the early 1970s saw a major campaign of bombing, usually indiscriminate, without warning and hoping to undermine the local economy and business to such an extent that the cost of Northern Ireland remaining part of the UK would be too high. A reduction of normal life to chaos and mayhem and negative international media coverage would make the government give in. Unionists were not seen as being anything other than dupes or stooges and so did not have to be consulted and who, once their British support had been removed, would quickly realise their true destiny as Irish, not British. This was a grotesquely naïve analysis (students of terrorism should never underestimate just how naïve terrorist politics can be) but did have some success. First, in 1972 Stormont was prorogued and London assumed direct rule as the violence spiralled out of control. Following this the PIRA did have direct negotiations with London, but their demands were met with incredulity as simply impossible for a democratic government to concede and also that London had no control over Unionists to coerce them in to a united Ireland, even if they wanted to.45 Following on from this the PIRA resumed its terror campaign throughout the rest of the 1970s, but with a declining impact as the local population got used to

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it and adjusted accordingly by integrating security measures in to its daily life and changing its social life style (private clubs and social venues and home entertainment rapidly superseded going out to public places and events). Also, the security forces, initially unprepared and lacking experience of such a campaign, began to learn how to respond and devise appropriate counter measures. These included sealing off town centres to stop car bombs from entering, regular vehicle check points to frustrate shipment of arms and bombs, routine patrolling to deny territory to terrorists and better intelligence and surveillance measures. In fact they became so successful at this that by the late 1970s the more senior members of the PIRA began to realise the futility of previous ideas of a purely terrorist campaign to ‘drive the Brits out’. It was this realisation that made PIRA leaders reassess their strategy and tactics for what became known as their ‘long war’ strategy, i.e. any victory was going to have to be a long, slow process of attrition and building up small gains and moving on more than a single front of violence to include politics and community activities to build popular support bases.46 This is important to stress since, contrary to much commentary, the security forces did show the ability to defeat a purely terrorist campaign. It was a long and often painful learning experience but they started to get there. The PIRA’s ‘long war’ strategy was thus a testament to the security forces effectiveness and the way they had defeated the first phase of the PIRA’s campaign. It meant the PIRA had to rethink tactics as well as strategy and internal organisation and structure. And it is here that one sees the resort to socialist rhetoric, the development of community work and activity, entering politics via Sinn Féin and the restructuring of the PIRA’s terrorist groups away from its old style of ‘battalions’ to a modern cell structure.47 This may be regarded as phase four of the PIRA strategy, a rethinking of what methods and aims they had, forced on them for several reasons. First, the security forces learnt how to counter their violence and, second, the Unionist resolve to resist them went up, not down and there was never a shortage of recruits to join the local UDR, specifically raised to help combat the terrorism. The UDR was an important addition to the anti-terrorist armoury (one reason why it was always so heavily vilified by Republicans). Being local the UDR had good knowledge not only of the territory but of individuals and activists and they had the commitment and continuity of defenders of their homes with a direct interest in defeating terrorism.48 Finally, several members I interviewed expressed how by joining it they had an outlet for their fears and frustrations against the terrorists that might otherwise have been expressed by joining the Loyalist terrorists. Now they had a disciplined, directed and controlled focus for their response to a terrorist threat and also one that helped educate them to the complexities of the situation. This made them less intolerant and more discerning in their attitudes to their Catholic neighbours as briefings and operational experience taught them that Catholics were not all the same. All of which helped severely curtail PIRA effectiveness. Republican violence might have a cathartic effect within some Catholic communities and heavy-handed security force forays in to them were of great

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benefit in hardening community solidarity and recruiting for the PIRA, e.g. internment without trial,49 but it still left them isolated in their Catholic ghettos. This might have been a good tactic for maintaining their base and in gaining international sympathy when reported in the media, but it got the PIRA nowhere in terms of their ultimate goal. Additionally the security forces began to recognise the importance of not being drawn in to confrontations or pursuing suspects in to Catholic areas and potential traps and set ups designed to maximise confrontations and community disruption. The PIRA thus found themselves at an impasse and began to realise the need for alternative tactics and strategy. We now see phase four emerge, slowly at first, and with serious misgivings from purists who disliked the idea of politics as corrupting and compromising. But it was here that the modern leadership of Gerry Adams, Martin McGuiness and Danny Morrison really made their mark by instituting a policy of politics and violence, which later became immortalised as the ‘armalite and the ballot box’.50 This also saw the emergence of Sinn Féin as an important sub-unit of the PIRA, doing more than just acting as a mouthpiece for it (Sinn Féin is a closely integrated part of the PIRA, coming under the control of its Army Council and most of its senior members are also PIRA in their own right). Initially, Republican strategy scaled back the violence to more carefully targeted attacks on what they called ‘legitimate targets’ (their own peculiar definitions and not ones recognised in international law), these were mostly senior state officials or politicians, security force members, and was later extended to civilian contractors who worked for the security forces, and economic targets. The reasoning was simple, indiscriminate violence alienated large sections of the local and international audience, it was bad PR and hindered efforts at fundraising at home and abroad (to continue their campaign was expensive). One such example was the Enniskillen war memorial bomb (1987) that killed several civilians during an attack on a war memorial service; the after effects severely damaged the PIRA’s image.51 ‘Legitimate targets’ could be rationalised and put in to the context of conventional war for an ill-informed media public, thus helping to cast themselves as soldiers and not terrorists, very important in the media and public relations battle. ‘Legitimate targets’ tended to involve far more soldiers from the regular Army, thus keeping up their pressure in mainland Britain (they had long noticed a disinterest in the rest of the UK concerning Northern Ireland unless mainland personnel were concerned). ‘Legitimate targets’ inevitably happened to be Unionist, thus making them feel more insecure and causing them to move out of mixed or predominantly Catholic areas. This was particularly important for the local security forces, especially the police, where living in an area is an important source of intelligence; simply by being members of a community they had inside knowledge of what was going on and who was involved. This in turn also meant that Catholic areas became much easier for Republicans to control and dominate, and so carry out all their activities with a degree of security and nonsurveillance. That it also led to the virtual ethnic cleansing of Protestants from many areas, such as the Garvaghy Road (Portadown) or along the border, was

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for Republicans, fortunately, not picked up by the media or academics who were still more concerned with claims of discrimination against Catholics or Republicans’ human rights.52 Business was also a good target since it maximised both costs and disruption to the state and society for minimal outlay. Compensation claims against the government by businesses ran into millions, sometimes ten of millions, whereas private individual claims only amounted to thousands. Business did not evoke the same emotional sympathy as private households and was thus less of a public relations risk. At the same time, destroyed businesses could not only severely disrupt individuals’ lives and livelihoods but also whole communities as vital services were disturbed for weeks or months. Sometimes it even led to complete takeovers of commercial districts, such as in Londonderry, where Protestants who had previously dominated the business centre were almost completely bombed out and replaced by Catholics, again benefiting Republicans with their roots in the Catholic community. Indeed, virtually the whole of the west bank or City side of Londonderry no longer has a Protestant population (apart from one very isolated district, the Fountain) having moved out to the Waterside (east bank) or out of the city completely, again largely ignored by academics and media alike.53 Any such segregation tended to help Republicans by leaving them an easier area to control and operate in, an important part of their strategy. They now had islands of self-control, safe havens from which to operate and draw or coerce support. Combined with this changing use of violence was a growing Republican emphasis on community work and representation. At first they did not stand for elections and spurned ‘ordinary’ politics, but they did begin to go in for local community work: they opened Sinn Féin Advice Centres to deal with a range of local concerns such as social security claims, welfare rights, public services, ‘policing’ Catholic neighbourhoods, e.g. dealing with joy-riders and other antisocial behaviour.54 This they did with great efficiency and ruthlessness providing excellent advice on welfare and social security rights and how to claim them. They also arranged their own ‘court and criminal justice system’ along with ‘policing’, trying and dealing with ‘offenders’ via a range of warnings and punishments, including beatings, knee-cappings, expulsions and even executions. Direct Action Against Drugs was one of their front organisations for dealing with unlicensed (by them) drug dealers.55 In this way Republicans provided a ‘service’ to their communities and an alternative state system to replace the State and its security forces: internal control not just by fear and coercion but by responding directly to local concerns and providing services. Even if they were often responding to problems they had been instrumental in creating, they were seen to be active in meeting community needs, when the formal forces of the state were unable to, again often as a result of Republican prevention.56 So they slowly changed their image from simple men of violence to community activists and representatives combining both in an increasingly sophisticated manner. After this a fifth phase emerged, whereby they progressed from community activists to political activists as well. This grew directly out of the dirty protests

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and hunger strikes of the late 1970s and early 1980s.57 Amazed at the community support they were able to galvanise (Catholic only, Protestants were totally alienated by it) at the time and spectacularly illustrated when a hunger striker managed to get elected as a London MP (Bobby Sands)58 they found that they had stumbled on an untapped well of deep emotional support. This, the more reasonable and moderate SDLP (constitutional Nationalists) had failed to realise as they played a more constitutional game. The hunger strikes campaign utilised all the emotive imagery and symbolism not only of Romantic nationalism but also of Catholicism (suffering, sacrifice, passion) and to this a majority of the Catholic Nationalist population seemed to respond.59 This was to pave the way to Sinn Féin eventually surpassing SDLP support after the Belfast Agreement.60 The importance of Sinn Féin as a Republican vehicle to reach out beyond the normal Republican hard core areas in the Catholic community was slowly tested and realised as at it began contesting elections. First, at local levels and then at national elections, initially on an abstentionist ticket, they found they had a major reservoir of support for the emotive ‘cause’ felt in the Catholic community. This then raised a tricky question for Republicans, who like most Romantic ethnic Nationalists distrusted politics as corrupting and compromising.61 For within Republicanism it was quickly appreciated that politics provided a positive way forward to build and gain new support and to project themselves as more than men of violence. This would impress not only local Catholic/Nationalist voters but world-wide audiences and be an important tool in their battle against the British State, enabling them to pose as legitimate spokespersons with a mandate who also served their community. But to do this they needed to carefully examine their use of violence since it could jeopardise their political campaign. This is the strategy of the ‘armalite and the ballot box’ come to fruition – a careful and judicious use of violence to blend in with and support tactical political objectives.62 Violence could also acquire a new importance, to raise political funds and control local electorates. Terrorism had always been expensive and politics was even more so, but their financing now needed a cleaner image for politics. Consequently, the 1980s saw a greater emphasis on income generation that was less overtly criminal. In the early days the PIRA had looked to protection rackets, robberies and other overt criminality to finance them, which was now no longer sufficient or clean enough for politics, thus a gradual move in to ‘front’ activities, i.e. running ‘legitimate businesses’ both as source of income in itself and for laundering criminal proceeds, such as smuggling and pirating goods, although not giving up entirely on overt crime, such as the Northern Bank robbery of 2004.63 Indeed, the PIRA even run their own illegal distilling and cigarette manufacturing businesses and one senior police officer informed me that he thought that in some PIRA controlled areas around 90 per cent of the economy was ‘black’. Thus, another important strand to strategic thinking – not just getting finance but how they got it became important. Violence was required to control their own neighbourhoods and to warn off prying eyes so that economic operations could be run, rather than to actually commit overt crime

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(Loyalists have never graduated to this level of criminality). From this economic control could then begin to replace the overtly violent control of districts. However, more sophisticated crime and discriminate acts of violence also fitted in with another strand of the new politics – international opinion. John Hume and the SDLP had long realised that while Unionists in Northern Ireland were immovable the UK government was very susceptible to international pressure and now the PIRA too realised the importance of this. Both worked hard to lobby internationally and to draw up an image of Northern Ireland as a colonial issue and so draw parallels to their own advantage as part of the wider anticolonial struggles of places like Rhodesia-Zimbabwe, Palestine or South Africa.64 This also blended well with already existing attitudes amongst large sections of Irish Americans who had long been a source of support and sustenance to Republicans generally and from the early days of the ‘troubles’ the PIRA had sought American aid, such as NORAID.65 America and public opinion became increasingly important in politics, hence so too did the PIRA’s image abroad, leading to less overt crime and more focused violence. This of course was directed at the media, international opinion and their own community and through that to bypass Unionists in Northern Ireland and to exert direct pressure on the UK government. – again, an important strategic consideration to be built in to the terrorist equation. In this it was very successful, right up to 9/11, when suddenly the entire world attitude to terrorism changed. The new strategy’s first real success was the 1985 Anglo-Irish Treaty, which was largely about shoring up the SDLP against the electoral advances of Sinn Féin at the expense of the Catholic/Nationalist vote previously dominated by the SDLP.66 Although now seen as indicative of Republican success the Anglo-Irish Treaty at first seemed to work for the SDLP as subsequently the Sinn Féin vote declined since the SDLP could claim advances for Nationalists through the Treaty. So while, the Treaty helped halt the slide in SDLP support the very fact that it was necessary was indicative of Republican success. The late 1980s saw a period of atrophy for the PIRA and Sinn Féin. The security forces increasingly had the upper hand as the Gibraltar shootings and Loughgall ambush showed their ability to wipe out whole PIRA active service units (ASU’s).67 But far more importantly the supergrass trials and evidence, although later overturned by the courts, showed the ability of the security forces to totally infiltrate Republicanism. Increasingly the PIRA were unable to carry out operations, since whenever ASU’s arrived at an operational scene they found it swamped with security and so had to abandon operations.68 The security forces obviously had deep inside intelligence on the PIRA, which naturally led to declining morale and internal distrust and non-cooperation. Demoralisation set in amongst the terrorists and their political wing was beginning to go backwards. The SDLP then got carried away with itself and overconfident but it was here, in the late 1980s that they threw the PIRA a lifeline from which they have never looked back. John Hume of the SDLP offered to engage in talks with them on forming a pan-Nationalist front if they would give up violence. Republicans jumped at the opportunity. From this they then

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established links with the British and Irish governments that led in to semiofficial and indirect talks between the British government and the PIRA that became the basis for the peace process, a dubious concept by which the men of violence managed to reinvent themselves as men of peace via judicious use of their own violence and expert Sinn Féin ‘spin’.69 Since then Republicans have surpassed the SDLP in all areas and effectively run the peace process as their own. But more specifically, it formed the basis for a new, sixth phase, strategy in the 1990s known as TUAS – Tactical Use of the Armed Struggle (not as some commentators stated: ‘totally unarmed strategy’).70 Since talks, especially formal talks with the government, involved non-violence as a pre-condition they obviously had to show pacific intent, which disgruntled many of their purist members committed to violence, whatever the consequences. Hence the PIRA formulated TUAS as representing to their members not an abandonment of violence but its careful and strategic and tactical use. This was a development from using both politics and violence at the same time (armalite and the ballot box) to periods of violence and then periods of peace, garnering what one could from one then resorting back to the other when that appeared to offer better prospects of gains. Violence was to be switched on and off according to the political gains coming from it. Thus violence as a principle in itself became subordinated to violence as a means to gain immediate short-term tactical advantages in the form of political concessions and gains, which were then banked (as unlikely to be rescinded by the British government). Once safely banked Republicans could then easily manufacture a new crisis which would cause their return to violence which could then be turned off in return for new political gains. This was clever since it not only compromised governments through negotiating with terrorists but also drew them in to a process from which it was difficult to withdraw without being seen as negative and undermining the peace process. Republicans were also astute enough never to ask for too much at one time, just enough to appear reasonable to the outside world and make the government appear unreasonable if it did not concede. This was made all the easier as Republicans began to realise the degree of ignorance about Northern Ireland of mainland politicians and senior civil servants, who they could easily out-think and manoeuvre.71 In addition, they also knew that any concessions to them would alienate Unionists and so help to drive a wedge between them and their own government; the resulting discomfiture of Unionists being an additional source of comfort to all Nationalists. So the short-term tactical gains also added up to longer term strategic gains of undermining the Union. At the same time it was now possible for Sinn Féin to present itself to the Nationalist electorate as the ones who really delivered on the Nationalist agenda, so effectively making the SDLP look weak and redundant. And this was the secret behind their electoral success and eventual ability to eclipse the SDLP as the voice of Catholic Nationalism.72 In any talks or peace process it was only really Republicans who mattered, since they alone had the bombs and guns and controlled the violence, the undermining principle for any democracy when it talks to terrorists.

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At the same time the PIRA also switched its violence back to mainland Britain (a seventh phase of strategic development?). From the early 1990s they began to appreciate that bombs in the mainland had a far bigger impact than ones in Northern Ireland. First, the violence would directly impact on the British electorate and government votes; mainland public opinion could swing against governments because of Northern Ireland, hence building up pressure to ‘do something’ and stop the violence. And here British governments were very receptive to the PIRA’s message.73 Second, the PIRA found the real Achilles heel of the British State in the City of London since bombs there not only caused damage estimated in the billions but actually threatened the City’s reputation as one of the major centres of world finance. Foreign banks and finance houses would relocate to Frankfurt in the face of sustained terrorist disruption.74 Northern Ireland and its Unionist majority were an easy sacrifice for a government that never really cared much for them anyway. Hence TUAS, that redirected violence to specific tactical gains and in mainland Britain was a most important strategic development. However, TUAS reached its most subtle level of development during the peace process proper and the ceasefires. Here, it was not even the use of violence as an occasional tactic but the very threat of its potential use that was most important. The fact that both London and Dublin knew the PIRA could and would resort to violence and that it did not require more than a few single but big operations in mainland Britain were a quite sufficient use of TUAS for Sinn Féin to be able to negotiate substantial concessions. This is also one of the reasons why decommissioning was always such a big sticking point after and before the Belfast Agreement; unarmed PIRA could not play TUAS and on a level playing field Sinn Féin would soon be reduced to relative insignificance in normal politics. This also brings one back to the proxy terrorism of the splinter groups. The real independence of the ‘Reals’ and the ‘Continuity’ was always tenuous and the PIRA soon showed that they could switch them on and off quite easily. However, it suited the PIRA to have these groups carrying out occasional attacks, since it kept the pressure on governments and reminded them of the even worse alternatives, thus the PIRA could stand back and say ‘if you don’t deal with us, this is what you will be back to’. The splinter groups thus acted as a proxy for the PIRA, indeed there was considerable overlap between groups.75 However, with all these strategic and tactical moves the security forces still managed to, eventually, control the PIRA. In both Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland this was due primarily to good intelligence work, especially the role of informers and surveillance. While in mainland Britain it was even easier. Not only did ASU’s stand out as much more obvious and so identifiable to normal policing, especially if they had to come from Ireland in the first instance and then set up special operational bases in Britain, but the native population as a whole was far more cooperative against what was seen as an alien threat. This even applied to the very large Irish immigrant community in Britain who really did not want the PIRA souring their good relations with the home

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population. In both the Republic and Northern Ireland, being small places of tight knit local communities, who was, or was not, an active terrorist was relatively easy to know. The big problem was, in a liberal democracy (such as both the UK and Republic of Ireland), always getting either enough forewarning of an operation to prevent or intercept it or gaining enough evidence for a successful prosecution in an open court, under close media and human rights scrutiny. This was easier in Britain than Ireland. Getting informers was also more difficult in Northern Ireland since the tight knit communities were difficult to penetrate and often had an intense inner loyalty and even sympathy for the PIRA cause, if not always their methods. (76) Further, they also provided closed environments from which the PIRA could operate, no one would ‘notice’ their operations and they could move around relatively unhindered and unreported. Even if the local population did not appreciate their activities they were usually well enough aware of the repercussions of cooperating with the security forces should the PIRA find out. For this very reason the PIRA worked hard to exclude normal policing from whole areas and to exclude (cleanse) Protestants from them as well. None of this could be achieved in Britain and so they became very exposed very quickly. Even in Northern Ireland it was never absolute, there were always a few who, for whatever reason, might be prepared to inform on the PIRA, indeed, the PIRA’s popular support in many Catholic communities could often be quite weak (hence the PIRA had its own internal security section and ‘nutting squad’ – executioners – for informers).77 Continually, Northern Ireland comes down to an intelligence war and control of the ground to prevent terrorist acts happening, rather than actually shooting or fighting terrorists. The reasons are simple: (i) shooting terrorists creates martyrs for the cause that the terrorists can then feed off, indeed the blood sacrifice and its symbolism is often a major theme in a terrorist campaign that helps stimulate its own client population.78 (ii) Inquests, court cases, human rights enquiries and other legal and political repercussions following a major incident can all be very easily turned around to make the security forces appear negatively, especially with a skilful political wing like Sinn Féin and an often gullible or simply sensationalist media. This is a very important part of the role of a political wing, whose right to operate in a liberal democracy is often difficult to deny without the state being seen as oppressive and so implying legitimacy to the terrorists.79 (iii) Inquests and court cases can be carefully milked by political wings to gain not only propaganda by lawyers specially briefed to portray a specific interpretation of events but they can also be an important source of intelligence for the terrorists if the security forces have to reveal how they gained intelligence or conducted their operations. This latter point is very important in relation to informers whose anonymity and safety is vital to anti-terrorism campaigns.80 (iv) Finally, it was found to be a very effective way of undermining terrorist groups’ morale to simply prevent anything happening. This sowed discord and fear internally as terrorists constantly looked over their shoulders at colleagues, wondering who they could trust and why the security forces always seemed to

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know what they were doing. In addition, it also led to an attitude of ‘what’s the point of all this if we can never actually do anything, we might as well all go down the pub instead’. This is what one security force briefing informed me literally occurred in one or two well infiltrated PIRA groups.81 Naturally to reach such a situation took time, knowledge and experience to build up, especially in Northern Ireland, and the security forces did not want to jeopardise it and any inquest or court case would do precisely that. However, by ensuring that nothing happened (not shooting terrorists) they came upon a way of protecting their intelligence, effectively undermining the terrorists and precluding some (often one-sided) human rights issues. However, in Britain this was not such an issue since there was an almost totally hostile population who felt directly threatened by the PIRA and much of the information the police received was openly volunteered by a cooperative public. The PIRA, thus, always found it much more difficult to mount any sustained campaign in Britain, although it always retained the ability to mount spectacular ‘one offs’ that could be very destabilising to UK political and financial interests. This was the strategy that led Republicans in to the peace process, the Belfast Agreement and government of Northern Ireland, but which must also be seen in conjunction with what one might describe as the eighth phase of their strategy: the use of street violence as an alternative to bombs and shootings in Northern Ireland, especially while the talks surrounding the peace process were taking place. In lieu of their own bombs and shootings there was little to keep the pressure on either the UK government or Unionists regarding negotiations. Indeed, while the PIRA were on ceasefire no one really missed them, normality was enjoyed and what did the PIRA really have to positively contribute? Yet if they went back to bombs and guns they became the bad guys and reaped all the approbation and consequently were in danger of ruling themselves out of the talks, if the rhetoric surrounding the Downing Street declaration was to be believed.82 Republicans needed an alternative source of extra-political violence to pressurise government and constitutional politicians and the always potentially contentious Orange Parades provided them with that. The most famous incident was the Garvaghy Road, Portadown, but several others were also high profile at the time, such as Dunloy, Co Antrim or Ormeau Road, Belfast. All of these were deliberately manipulated confrontations between Orange Parades (Protestant and an important part of Unionist tradition and identity) and local residents groups (Republican fronts that were painstakingly contrived over several years) who opposed them, using non-legal means (barricades, sit downs, street parties and so on to block routes) and in defiance of recognised policing procedures.83 The results were major confrontations with the police and Army having to separate legal marchers from illegal demonstrators. And at various times being seen to either force Protestant marches through Nationalist barricades and districts and so conforming to images of a biased security force oppressing Catholics or else support illegal street demonstrators and Republican fronts against Protestants and so alienate them from their own government. From 1995 onwards major street confrontations and riots spread

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around Northern Ireland helping to create a bitterly divided society and deeply embarrassed government. It was a brilliantly successful tactic that undoubtedly levered Republicans much advantage in the peace process, not only against the Unionists and British government but also against Sinn Féin’s main Nationalist rivals, the SDLP. The ‘parades issue’ also blended in well with a long running strategy on the part of Sinn Féin and the PIRA, which was to create issues for political exploitation. In particular this would relate to specific instances of state failing, which would then be magnified in to general principles of state oppression, and to demonise important aspects of Unionist life and identity. Here the parades act as a good example since parading is an important aspect of Unionist identity, socialising and expression, thus to get any of them banned is an important victory for Republicans in removing Unionists from public spaces. Second, the parades issue helped to demonise the Orange Order as bigots and sectarian and so helped to undermine one of the major planks of Unionist identity, organisation and effective resistance to them.84 Of course the Orange Order is exclusively Protestant, but then the Catholic Church is exclusively Catholic and can be seen to have played an equally very important role in the sectarian division of Ireland. In addition, Sinn Féin would often prepare the ground for assassinations and bomb targets by a period of deliberately demonising individuals or organisations. This not only helped to make specific targets appear ‘legitimate’ but also helped send a message of deterrence out to other individuals and organisations not to participate in public or political life. In addition it also blended in with ongoing efforts to undermine important aspects of the states authority and legitimacy such as the denigration of the security forces, legal system, other institutions or individuals the PIRA regarded as a threat to their goals.85 The overall aim was to create an impression of a Province of institutionalised injustice and oppression that was irredeemable and beyond reform. This would not only help legitimise their terrorist tactics but also help induce destabilising reforms that were not really warranted, such as the removal of state symbols like Crown flags and emblems that would upset Unionists and alienate them from their government.86 This has been nicely passed off as part of the peace process by Republicans and any hint of not making such concessions is quickly turned around as being anti-peace and against the Belfast Agreement. Once Republicans had gained most of what they wanted from an issue they lost interest in it, such as the street violence, and the issues petered out. However, they played the politics of violence with consummate skill and demonstrated an ability to manipulate and utilise it to very effective ends that the state forces found very difficult to respond effectively to.

South of the border One last strand of Republican strategy that needs highlighting is the development of their political campaign in the Republic of Ireland. To realise their

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ultimate goal of an all-Ireland state Republicans also need to gain the acceptance of the South, or Republic of Ireland. However, this was not something Republicans really looked seriously at until quite late on. At first the Republic was merely a relatively secure base from which to conduct operations in the North, especially for training, storage and logistics87 but increasingly Republicans began to realise its importance in terms of popular support for any kind of unity. One upshot of this was a Republican policy of not engaging directly in terrorist operations in the south or attacking state personnel there. Southern attitudes have always been a bit ambiguous towards unification – officially and sentimentally for it but very lukewarm about it, and they certainly did not want any of the violence of the north imported to the south. Thus slowly Republicans began to realise the importance of building up a popular Southern base. Further, they also began to realise the degree of pressure that could be developed via the South’s government in Dublin on London, which was a product of developments at a European level. Over the years, as the south had modernised and both it and the UK had joined the EU so London and Dublin found much in common and developed a good, close working relationship. Consequently events in Northern Ireland could prove a nasty ‘fly in the ointment’ for both governments’ wider considerations. In addition, because of the South’s proportional representation system most governments were coalitions, which implied very powerful positions of influence for smaller parties. It was towards this that Republicans increasingly turned their attention. Buoyed by the massive financial resources of organised crime Republicans moved in to Southern politics in quite a big way in the 1990s, especially targeting constituencies with high deprivation levels, bypassed by the ‘Celtic Tiger’ economy and ignored by the main political parties (who were also losing credibility due to several high profile corruption cases).88 Thus, using all the skills and lessons learnt in the north Republicans moved in to Southern politics with the strategic aim not of coming to power as such but to become a big enough small party to exercise considerable influence behind the scenes; selling their votes in parliament for Dublin pressure on the UK over Unionists in Northern Ireland. Once again, Republicans were not aiming at one grand victory, but slowly chipping away to gain a continual drip of small concessions that would lead to a gradual accretion of victories. Never enough to appear too big and threatening to governments but always enough to show progress to supporters on a strategic route to ultimate victory, slowly chipping away at Unionist foundations. Meanwhile, all the time there is the knowledge of Republican’s potential for violence and creating serious political instability, a latent threat that the 2005 partial decommissioning of their weapons has never really removed.89 The PIRA retain their organisational infrastructure and skills base and the Army Council (head of the PIRA) is still firmly in control but currently concentrating all its work through Sinn Féin. The PIRA were seriously taken aback by 2001 and realised that any return to violence or even serious threat of it was not feasible for some years, but prior to 2001 they had no intention of ever decommissioning

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any weapons. However, they have learnt to adapt and to play the long game and they know that eventually attitudes will change again and 2001 will fade in the memory and that only they want to go back and revisit the Northern Ireland issue all over again. Nor will Northern Ireland’s population want their newly acquired pleasant consumer lifestyle interrupted. But until then politics is the name of the game.

Conclusion The strategy and tactics of Republicans have evolved quite remarkably over the course of the ‘troubles’, from naïve and crude to subtle and sophisticated. They have been flexible, almost opportunistic at times, but also consistent in their ultimate objective, which they have never taken their eye off – an all-Ireland state. In purely military terms they have not been that successful. The security forces have shown an ability to study, stalk and respond effectively to most of the PIRA’s ‘military’ tactics and strategy and learnt how to combat them most successfully; and most importantly, for future lessons, by utilising minimum force and eschewing violence. Indeed, the PIRA were ultimately forced to come to the negotiating table on the back of an SDLP lifeline because of ‘military’ failure and security force success. It is only when one gets to the political response to Republican terrorism that they appear to be successful. For without doubt, Republicans have made major gains in the last ten years that their ‘military’ performance would not warrant, something recently admitted by a former Secretary of State for Northern Ireland.90 Tactically they have been opportunistic, seeking to first engage the UK government directly and second, to maximise the costs to it in economic, diplomatic and political terms via the, at first, indiscriminate use of violence, next the discriminate use of violence and finally the implied and latent threat of violence. This enables them to bypass the local Unionist community in Northern Ireland who they know they cannot convince or move, further they appear to have grasped that mainland Britain does not really care about the Unionists, which makes them easily sacrificial in terms of greater UK interests (these, ironically, are now often closely allied to the Republic of Ireland’s). Only in terms of ethnic cleansing do Republicans seem to have been able to move Unionists, and this is something that still requires serious research to validate or not. Having now realised their political success it has encouraged the PIRA to engage more fully in politics, which should not be read as a conversion to politics alone, merely they have learnt how to milk the political advantages of violence. Violence is something now in the background, judiciously held in reserve, implied or for whenever it appears to be of more benefit to them. It is also a violence that is still used at a local street level, often, ironically, to ensure fellow Catholics in their communities tow their line and also to cover their organised criminal activities. But at the overt level and that of targeting state agents they are currently committed to a political strategy. Thus one could paraphrase their current strategy as ‘politics as the pursuit of terrorism by other means’.

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However, this is something that is open to change as time and events move on and new circumstances appear. Violence is now a tactic, to be continually reassessed, in the pursuit of a strategy (all-Ireland state) that has not changed. And it is in the nature of their ethnic-national ideology to regard the national ideal as not only an ultimate goal but also an ultimate truth (moral and cognitive) that legitimates any tactic in pursuit of it as part of their ‘long war’ strategy.

Notes 1 Steve Bruce (2001) ‘Terrorism and politics: the case of Northern Ireland’s Loyalist paramilitaries’, Terrorism and Political Violence, 13:2. 2 Steve Bruce (1992) The Red Hand, (Oxford: Oxford University Press), chapter 7. 3 James Dingley (2001) ‘The bombing of Omagh, 15 August 1998: The bombers, their tactics, strategy and purpose behind the Incident’, Studies in Conflict and Terrorism, 24:6. 4 John McGarry and Brendan O’Leary (1995) Explaining Northern Ireland (Oxford: Blackwell). Jonathan Tonge (1998) Northern Ireland, Conflict and Change (London: Prentice Hall). 5 Richard English (2003) Armed Struggle, The History of the IRA (London: Macmillan), chapter 3. 6 John Whyte (1991) Interpreting Northern Ireland (Oxford: Clarendon), chapter 8. 7 David Beresford (1987) Ten Dead Men, The Story of the 1981 Irish Hunger Strike (London: Grafton). 8 Jack Holland and Henry McDonald (1994) INLA: Deadly Divisions (Dublin: Torc). 9 Note 5, pp. 251–252. 10 Note 3. 11 Liah Greenfeld (1992) Nationalism, Five Roads to Modernity (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press), chapter 2. Adam Zamoyski (1999) Holy Madness (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson). Sean O’Callaghan (1999) The Informer (London: Corgi), chapters 1, 2 and 3. 12 Thomas Hennessey (2005) Northern Ireland: The Origins of the ‘Troubles’ (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan), chapter 4. 13 Note 12, chapters 2 and 6. 14 Note 12, chapter 4. 15 Note 12, chapter 9. 16 Paul Bew and Gordon Gillespie (1999) Northern Ireland, a Chronology of the ‘Troubles’, 1968–1999 (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan), p. 85. 17 Note 2, chapter 8. 18 Author’s own research: several police officers in the late 1990s observed to the author that several ‘innocent’ Catholics killed by Loyalists had been known to them as Republican activists, but that not having been formally charged with any offence they could not be so labelled in public. 19 Paul Mitchell and Rick Wilford (eds) (1999) Politics in Northern Ireland (Oxford: Westview Press), chapter 5. 20 Malachi O’Doherty (1998) The Trouble With Guns (Belfast: Blackstaff Press). Henry Patterson (1989) The Politics of Illusion (London: Radius). 21 Austen Morgan (1991) Labour and Partition, the Belfast Working-class, 1905–23 (London: Pluto). Liam Kennedy and Philip Ollerenshaw (eds) (1985) An Economic History of Ulster, 1820–1939 (Manchester: Manchester University Press), chapter 5. 22 Adrian Hastings (1997) The Construction of Nationhood (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Anthony Smith (1991) National Identity (London: Penguin), chapter 1.

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23 Ernest Gellner (1992) Reason and Culture (Oxford: Blackwell). Isaiah Berlin (2000) The Roots of Romanticism (London: Pimlico). James Dingley and Michael KirkSmith (2002) ‘Symbolism and sacrifice in terrorism’, Small Wars and Insurgencies, 13:1. 24 Note 11, Greenfeld (1994), chapter 4. Elie Kedourie, Nationalism (Oxford: Blackwell). 25 Note 23, Dingley and Kirk-Smith. 26 Mary Harris, The Catholic State and the Foundation of the Northern Irish State (Cork: University of Cork Press), chapter 6. 27 Note 23, Gellner, Berlin. Note 11, Greenfeld, chapter 4. 28 James Dingley and Marcello Mollica (2007) ‘The human body as a terrorist weapon: hunger strikes and suicide bombers’, Studies in Conflict and Terrorism, 30:6. 29 Note 23, Dingley and Kirk-Smith. Note 11, O’Callaghan, chapters 1, 2 and 3. 30 Note 23, Berlin. Note 11, Greenfeld, chapter 4. Note 11, O’Callaghan, chapter 3. 31 Note 11, Greenfeld, chapter 4. Isaiah Berlin (1997) The Sense of Reality (London: Pimlico). Isaiah Berlin (1991) The Crooked Timber of Humanity (Glasgow: Fontana). 32 M.L.R. Smith (1997) Fighting for Ireland (London: Routledge), chapter 5. Stephen Howe (2000) Ireland and Empire (Oxford: Oxford University Press). 33 Note 32, Smith and Howe. 34 Note 32, Smith, chapter 3. 35 Note 12, chapter 1 and 3. 36 Paul Kingsley (1989) Londonderry Revisited (Belfast: Belfast Publications). 37 Note 12, chapter 3. 38 Note 12, chapter 4. 39 Note 12, chapter 3. 40 Note 12, chapter 7. 41 Note 32, Smith, chapter 3. 42 Note 32, Smith, chapter 4. 43 Tom Wilson (1989) Ulster, Conflict and Consent (Oxford: Blackwell), chapter 16. 44 Note 32, chapters 4 and 5. Note 5, chapter 4. 45 Thomas Hennessey (1997) A History of Northern Ireland, 1920–1996 (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan), chapter 4. 46 Note 32, Smith, chapter 6. Ed Moloney (2002) A Secret History of the IRA (London: Penguin), chapter 4. 47 Note 46, Smith and Moloney. 48 Note 32, Smith, chapter 4. Note 45, Hennessey, chapter 5. 49 Note 46, Moloney, chapter 3. 50 Note 20. 51 Note 32, Smith, chapter 7. 52 Chris Ryder and Vincent Kearney (2001) Drumcree, The Orange Order’s Last Stand (London: Methuen). James Dingley (2002) ‘Marching down the Garvaghy Road: Republican tactics and state response to the Orangemen’s claim to march their traditional route home after the Drumcree church service’, Terrorism and Political Violence, 14:3. 53 Peter Shirlow, Brian Graham, Amanda McMullan, Brendan Murtagh, Gillian Robinson and Neil Southern (2005) Population Change and Social Inclusion Study, Derry/Londonderry, http://cain.ulst.ac.uk/issues/population/popchangederry05.pdf. 54 James Dingley (1999) ‘Peace processes and Northern Ireland: squaring circles’, Terrorism and Political Violence, 11:3. 55 Note 5, p. 322. 56 Note 54. 57 Note 5, chapter 5. 58 Note 46, Moloney, chapter 6. 59 Note 28.

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60 CAIN, Results of Elections Held in Northern Ireland Since 1968, http://cain.ulst.ac.uk/issues/politics/election/elect.htm. 61 Note 24, Kedourie, chapters 6 and 7. Note 46, Moloney, p. 151. 62 Note, Smith, chapter 7. 63 Belfast’s Northern Bank Robbery, www.crimelibrary.com/gangsters_outlaws/ outlaws/major_heists/index.html. 64 John McGarry (ed.) (2001) Northern Ireland and the Divided World, (Oxford: Oxford University Press), Introduction. 65 Patrick Bishop and Eamonn Mallie (1998) The Provisional IRA (London: Corgi), chapter 17. 66 Thomas Hennessey (2000) The Northern Ireland Peace Process (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan), part 1, pp. 19–27. 67 Note 32, Smith, chapter 7. Mark Urban (1992) Big Boys Rules (London: Faber & Faber). 68 Author’s own research. Time and again members of the security forces emphasised this as a prime tactic, not to actually shoot terrorists but to prevent them operating by controlling the ground on which they wished to operate, so making sure that nothing happened. For this informers and ‘supergrasses’ (very high-level informers) were vital, note 67, Urban, chapter 14. 69 Note 46, chapter 9. 70 Note 46, Moloney, chapter 15 and Appendix 2. 71 James Dingley (2000) ‘Northern Ireland: the unravelling peace process’, Low Intensity Conflict and Law Enforcement, 9:2. 72 Note 60. 73 Paul Bew, Peter Gibbon and Henry Patterson, Northern Ireland, 1921–1994, (London: Serif), pp. 217–224. 74 James Dingley (2002) ‘Peace in our time? The stresses and strains on the Northern Ireland peace process’, Studies in Conflict and Terrorism, 25:6. 75 Note 3. 76 Oliver Rafferty (1994) Catholics in Ulster (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan), chapter 7. Eamonn Mallie and David McKittrick (1996) The Fight for Peace (London: Heinemann), chapter 4. 77 Eamon Collins (1998) Killing Rage, (London: Granta), chapter 16. 78 Note, 28. Note 23, Dingley and Kirk-Smith. 79 Anthony Richards (2001) ‘Terrorist groups and political fronts: The IRA, Sinn Féin, the peace process and democracy’, Terrorism and Political Violence, 13:4. 80 Note 77, chapter 24. 81 Author’s own research. 82 Note 66, part II. 83 Note 52, Ryder and Kearney and Dingley. 84 Note 52, Kearney and Ryder and Dingley. 85 Note 11, O’Callaghan, chapters 23 and 28. 86 The most overt example of this was the renaming and new uniforms, crest and badges of the police when the RUC was disbanded to be replaced by the Police Service of Northern Ireland. Similarly the royal crest was removed from courts. http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/in.depth/uk/2000ruc_reform/default.stm. 87 John Horgan and Max Taylor (1997) ‘The Provisional Irish Republican Army: command and functional structure’, Terrorism and Political Violence, 9:3. 88 See chapter by John Horgan, ‘From war of manoeuvre to war of partition’, in this volume. 89 www.spinwatch.org/content/view/211/8, author’s own research amongst security force personnel would also support this. 90 Peter Mandelson, http://politics.guardian.co.uk/northernireland assembly/story/0,, 2032841,oo.html.

5

Terrorist groups and their political fronts Anthony Richards

Introduction The terrorist group political front has been an understudied phenomena in the field of terrorism studies. This chapter outlines the evolution and roles of political fronts in the Northern Ireland context, particularly those associated with the Irish Republican Army (IRA), the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) and the Ulster Defence Association (UDA), though clearly the emergence and functions of the anti-state Sinn Féin have been very different to those of the pro-state Loyalist fronts. The evolution of the IRA’s political front has seen Sinn Féin emerge from relative obscurity in the early 1970s to becoming the largest Nationalist party in Northern Ireland. A combination of events, leadership and state response has served to facilitate the growing prominence of Sinn Féin over the past 30 years. Initially and primarily serving as a propaganda tool and as the public voice of the IRA, the political front’s role was not broadened until after the IRA’s ‘disastrous’ 1975 truce that emphasised the importance to Gerry Adams and other Republicans of generating greater support from the community they claimed to represent. The ‘long war’ strategy that emanated from this, however, had limited success in harnessing a greater following for the Republican movement and it wasn’t until the victory of hunger striker Bobby Sands at the Fermanagh-south Tyrone by-election in 1981 that the IRA placed faith in Sinn Féin as an electoral tool. After a decade of trying to marginalise the ‘voice’ of the IRA the British government set about including Irish Republicans in an all-inclusive peace process and it has been its determination to keep them on board and the IRA on ceasefire that has allowed the political front to gain in prominence as the ‘tough lawyer’ for the Catholic minority at the expense of the moderate Social and Democratic Labour Party. As far as the Loyalist groups are concerned the roots of their political fronts can be traced to the break-up of the monolith of unionism when the Northern Irish Prime Minister Terence O’Neill tried to introduce reforms to address Catholic grievances. Henceforth the Unionist ‘right’ were to provide the political voice of working-class loyalism. To some within the Loyalist groups, however, it became increasingly clear that Loyalist workers were being ‘manip-

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ulated’ by politicians like Ian Paisley and William Craig. This, and the failure of the politicians to resolve the conflict, prompted some Loyalists to think more politically, particularly after the success of the Ulster Workers Council strike of 1974, with the aim of somehow reaching accommodation with the ‘enemy’. These impulses, such as the UDA’s notion of ‘negotiated independence’, were also underpinned by Westminster’s traditional and continuing emotional detachment from the province. The Loyalist political fronts were, however, to face fundamental obstacles to their development that their anti-state counterpart did not have to contend with. With so many Unionist parties on the political scene there was simply less space for them. Perhaps more significantly, being pro-state and therefore trying to appeal to the ‘law-abiding’ Protestant community meant that the illegal violence perpetrated by their respective groups was always going to undermine their attempts to achieve political respectability and to mobilise wider support. This was especially the case with the prevalence of the ‘division of labour’ ethos that has existed in the Protestant community in Northern Ireland. Even if the Loyalist groups were at times conveniently used as the ‘muscle’ that Unionist politicians could use to warn the British government against a sell-out to Irish Republicans they certainly could not be allowed to ‘contaminate’ established unionism through their political fronts. These major impediments did not, however, prevent the establishment of Loyalist political fronts in the 1970s and 1980s and indeed their prospects were given a boost by the emerging peace process in the 1990s. As with Sinn Féin, it was vital that the Progressive Unionist Party (PUP) and the Ulster Democratic Party (UDP) should remain fully engaged with the negotiations if the ceasefires of their respective organisations (UVF and UDA) were to hold. As such the profiles and utility of these fronts reached unprecedented levels.

The political front In the author’s view the term ‘political wing’ is an unsatisfactory label for the phenomena in question. A political front is a ‘front’ for and under the control of the terrorist group and it is only when this ceases to be the case that a new label is required. The term ‘political wing’ is often used interchangeably with political front but because it implies a degree of equivalence with the terrorist group (assuming that the two wings of a bird are the same size) in terms of decisionmaking and overall influence in the direction of a movement, it ignores the fact that political fronts are usually subordinate to the terrorist organisation. It is also, therefore, usually the case that they emerge from the terrorist group, such as the PUP from the UVF or the UDP from the UDA. In Spain in 1974 the Basque Revolutionary Party (ETA) and the Popular Unity Party (HB) sprung from ETA (pm) and ETA (m) respectively. A political front is not the same as an internal ‘political section’ of a group. Nor should it be confused with the plethora of other fronts, support structures and sympathetic ‘charities’.2 While political fronts may also be engaged in

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similar propaganda and fundraising activities, the key distinctive feature is that they are umbilically linked to the terrorist group. This is evident in the cross or dual membership that exists between them, the former being the ‘public face’ of the movement. Examples include the IRA and Sinn Féin, the Real IRA and the 32 County Sovereignty Movement, ETA and Batasuna.3 Perhaps one of the most common misperceptions of all is that a political front represents the ‘moderate half’ of a movement. It does not follow that an active member of a political front has more moderate views towards the use of violence than one involved in perpetrating it (in fact they could be the same person). Nor is it necessarily the case that those in the front are any less radical in terms of policy than those involved in the perpetration of violence. In fact the opposite may be the case – Ruairi O’ Bradaigh defected from Sinn Féin in 1986 in protest at the mainstream Republican movement’s abandonment of the policy of abstention from the Irish Dail. For the purposes of this chapter, political fronts are defined as organisations that provide a public face and a political voice for terrorist groups and are characterised by the dual membership that exists between the two.

The IRA and Sinn Féin Although the IRA’s political front has not formed part of the formal structure of the organisation, it has nevertheless for most of its life been under the direct control of the Army Council. Thus, the discipline and centralised nature of the IRA is replicated in the strict control that the IRA leadership has exerted over its political front. This has been managed by the dual membership that has existed between the organisation and its political front at leadership level. From 1949, when Sinn Féin was ‘infiltrated’ and the IRA ‘[took] control’ of the organisation, ‘electing a member of the Army Council, Patrick McLogan, as their new President’,4 Sinn Féin has indeed been inextricably linked to the IRA. Andrew Silke, in his article on paramilitary vigilantism, explains how the Sinn Féin ‘advice centres’ of the 1970s became known as ‘Provo Police Stations’ run by Sinn Féin ‘Civil Administration Officers’.5 The CAO was: Habitually also a member of the IRA, and indeed was often a relatively senior figure in the local chain of command. The dual membership, an officer of an executive branch of Sinn Féin, as well as a member of the IRA, was – and is – reflected in the dual responsibilities for the post of Civil Administration Officer.6 Peter Taylor argues that the case of Martin McCaughey illustrates the interchangeability between the IRA and Sinn Féin in a way that few cases do. McCaughey became a Sinn Féin councillor despite the fact that ‘his activities were more IRA than Sinn Féin’.7 Ken Fitzgerald, who apparently played a leading role in the IRA’s anti-drugs campaigns in Dublin in the 1990s, was a Sinn Féin candidate in the local elections, but after he was convicted it was

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reported that he claimed membership of the IRA and secured a prison transfer.8 After the 2001 Westminster elections Sinn Féin councillor Martin O’Muilleoir was quoted as saying that ‘the IRA came out of this election stronger’.9 Conor Claxton, one of the guilty men in the Florida gun running trial, admitted in court that he was an international representative for both the IRA and Sinn Féin.10 In May 2001 Michael Noonan, the former leader of the Irish Fine Gael party, was quoted as saying of the IRA and Sinn Féin that ‘dual membership [has been] the norm rather than the exception, particularly at the highest level’.11 A leaked document made available to the Sunday Times in March 2001, which was apparently ‘verified by senior sources in the Royal Ulster Constabulary and the Irish police’, claimed to know the identities of the Army Council members, three of which were Martin McGuinness, Gerry Adams and Martin Ferris, all key Sinn Féin figures.12 This has been repeatedly confirmed by security sources. However much one speculates as to who is and who isn’t on the IRA Army Council the evidence of cross-membership between the two organisations is compelling – and this was brought home when Cuba’s ‘Sinn Féin representative’, Niall Connolly, was one of three IRA men caught with false passports at Bogotá airport in Colombia after visiting the Marxist revolutionary group FARC in August 2001.13 Connolly was also believed to be part of a team helping to organise Gerry Adams’ trip to Cuba.14 What is equally clear is that, at least until the apparent change in the internal dynamics of the Army Council in the autumn of 2001,15 the IRA was the senior partner in the relationship – evident in the fact that ‘Gerry Adams and Martin McGuinness, Sinn Féin’s two leading members, are said to have ferried messages back to the IRA leaders during the [July 2001] talks’.16 This was not the first time that Army Council members had been present in make or break negotiations.17 The very fact that the British and Irish governments and the Northern Irish political parties all waited nervously for the terrorist group’s response to the governments’ blueprint for the future of the province showed clearly that the real power within the Republican movement was in the organisation’s Army Council. If one refers to Horgan and Taylor’s IRA Command and Functional Structure diagram18 it might therefore be appropriate to include Sinn Féin as a direct link under the Army Council to which it has reported through the dual membership of both leaderships.19 This would make clear that rather than the ‘moderate half’ of the movement, or a separate political party, Sinn Féin has in fact been (at least until the Autumn of 200120) a tactical device under the direct control of the IRA Army Council. This has meant that Sinn Féin has been a tightly controlled instrument of the IRA leadership and its role as a political front has therefore been decided and delegated according to the tactical demands of the movement at the time. The IRA’s powerful ideology and tight organisational structure has instilled loyalty and discipline in the ranks and the same has gone for Sinn Féin in its deference and loyalty to the group’s leadership.

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The evolution of Sinn Féin By the early 1970s Sinn Féin had evolved a strategy for Ireland once the British had been driven out. Its Ard Fheis of October 1971 endorsed the Eire Nua project, which advocated regional parliaments for each of the four ancient provinces of the country.21 There was little room for politics in the shorter term, however, as the conflict became increasingly polarised. The Loyalist response to the civil rights marches, the Lower Falls curfew, the imposition of internment without trial and Bloody Sunday all enhanced support for the group from within the Catholic community. ‘Politics was a dirty word in those days’22 as IRA violence intensified. While the political front served as the group’s public voice to explain its actions, it was the high-level of popular support for the IRA in the early 1970s that led to the emergence of the Catholic ghettos which in turn led to the beginnings of what was to develop into another role for Sinn Féin (especially after the establishment of Sinn Féin ‘advice centres’ in the mid-1970s) – that of vigilantism or what has been termed as ‘community policing’. As the security forces of the state were increasingly seen as indifferent to the suffering of the minority community by growing numbers of Catholics, and therefore untrustworthy and unwelcome, it was the IRA that willingly23 began to develop and implement an alternative law and justice system, that involved punishment beatings and shootings as the means to deal with not just ‘social nuisances’24 but those who would dare to stand up to the group. The political front was very much the first point of contact for those who had a grievance. As Silke maintains: Sinn Féin is intimately involved in every aspect of the vigilantism. Indeed, a case can be argued that the political infrastructure from which contemporary Sinn Féin emerged ultimately had its origins in the efforts of Republicanism to establish formal structures to facilitate organized vigilantism.25 Between November 1972 and January 1973 the IRA was under severe pressure from the two states’ security forces, both north and south. By Christmas 1972 200 IRA members had apparently been arrested since ‘Operation Motorman’,26 while the Irish Gardai had ‘[struck] at both wings of the Republican movement’, including the arrest of the IRA’s Chief of Staff, Sean MacStiofain.27 The string of arrests of key IRA figures had pushed the Republicans into a corner and led to their decision to bomb London in March 1973. Arrests continued, however, throughout 1973 in both the Republic and Northern Ireland. The introduction of Diplock courts28 in 1972 and (after the IRA bombed pubs in Guildford and Birmingham killing 26 people) the introduction of the Prevention of Terrorism Act on the 25 November 1974 also helped to counter the group. The Bill allowed for the detention without charge of suspects for up to seven days, and, if appropriate, expulsion from Britain. In 1974 the British government de-proscribed Sinn Féin in order to provide the means by which the authorities were able to maintain contact with the

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Republican movement at the same time as ‘[avoiding] the impression that direct negotiations were taking place with the IRA’.29 The main reason for legalising the political front, however, lay ‘in the hope that this might promote the IRA’s political activity at the expense of its military effort’.30 This, according to one PSNI Special Branch source, was a pivotal moment and a serious miscalculation.31 What the government didn’t realise, in his view, was that Sinn Féin at this time was not going to become an alternative to the armed struggle but would continue to be used as an extra weapon in the ‘war’ against the British. The drop in popular support by the mid-1970s was to be a crucial factor behind the so-called ‘long war’ strategy, which in turn was to see an enhanced role for the IRA’s political front. Indeed, Patterson agrees that ‘one of [Gerry] Adams’ major concerns about the situation of the Provisionals . . . was their growing isolation from the majority of people in the Catholic ghettos’.32 Adams was worried that ‘the rate of attrition is increasing in Republican areas and the Brit news media is spreading stories to increase the confusion within the ghettos . . . The Brit intends to isolate us from the people’.33 The ‘war machine’, therefore, needed to be surrounded by a ‘popular infrastructure’34 and Sinn Féin’s role was to be central in developing this process. The IRA truce of 1975 had prompted this re-evaluation. The organisation believed that the British government was preparing to withdraw from the province when in fact Westminster had no intention of doing so. The ceasefire, which lasted from the 9 February until the 22 September, had seen many grass roots members returning to their families and dropping their guard, echoing a similar development in the Anglo-Irish war truce during which the IRA had lost its operational capacity. The period had therefore been a ‘disastrous’ one for the group35 – to those in prison like Gerry Adams and Martin McGuinness it looked as though ‘the IRA [was] being run down’.36 The problem for Adams was that if the military struggle came to a halt then so did the whole struggle. The battle henceforth had to be fought on other fronts as well, and this promised a greater role for Sinn Féin, though not as a sign of moderation towards the use of violence, but as the means to expand the struggle beyond the purely ‘militaristic’ approach. Adams’ strategy was therefore to develop the struggle to the economic, social and political fronts as well, through a process of ‘active abstentionism’ that entailed creating and running alternative structures to those of the state – including ‘housing committees, defence groups, advice centres, local policing, people’s taxis, etc’37 The new strategy, which was to be pursued throughout the 32 counties of the island of Ireland,38 recognised that military victory in the short term was unrealisable despite previous predictions, evident in that it also entailed the reorganisation of the IRA into a cellular structure to counter the use of informers that had penetrated the much larger brigades. The political front, however, was still very much the junior partner in the movement as a ‘Staff Report’ made clear: ‘Sinn Féin should come under Army organizers at all levels’.39 One positive offshoot of the truce, however, as far as the IRA’s political front was concerned, was the establishment of Sinn Féin incident centres that were

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designed to monitor the ceasefire. Although they were closed by the Secretary of State for Northern Ireland, Merlyn Rees, in November 1975, ‘they were a watershed in the public perception of Sinn Féin, giving it a political standing in the Nationalist community and, more importantly, a physical presence’.40 The 1970s also saw the emergence of the Northern Command of the IRA that was to eventually take control of the movement. The evolution of Sinn Féin and its subsequent rise to prominence cannot be properly documented without reference to the crucial role played by this new emerging leadership. Indeed, this has been cited as the single most important factor behind the rise of the political front with the real turning point coming in 1983 when Adams became President of the party and was someone who ‘was capable of dealing with the evolving situation’.41 Shortly after Adams’ release from prison in February 1977 it is alleged that he became the IRA’s Chief of Staff.42 The support of Martin McGuinness was also important as he had the military pedigree43 to carry with him many of those ‘militarists’ who were sceptical of any kind of politics. It is a leadership that still remains intact today despite the splits of 1986 and 1997 and its survival ensured that the political front continued to be used in new and innovative ways.

The hunger strikes The year 1981 was to have a profound effect on the course of the ‘troubles’. When William Whitelaw granted IRA prisoners special category status in 1972 it set in motion a series of events that was to have a significant impact on Republican strategy vis-à-vis the role of Sinn Féin. The process of ‘criminalisation’ revoked this status and prisoners began to demonstrate through the ‘Dirty Protest’.44 When the government refused to budge the prisoners raised the stakes and, after a failed hunger strike in 1980, and against the IRA’s wishes (the group saw such exploits as a diversion from their efforts to concentrate on the struggle), Bobby Sands began a second strike on 1 March 1981, followed by other prisoners at staggered intervals. As Sands was beginning his protest another event took place that was to facilitate the dramatic effect that he would have on IRA strategy. On the 5 March Frank Maguire, MP for Fermanagh-south Tyrone, died. After much cajoling and discussion Sands’ name was put forward to fight the seat as an ‘HBlock/Armagh’ candidate.45 His victory by nearly 1,500 votes (though after the withdrawal of the SDLP candidate) seemed to be evidence that the hunger strikes had radicalised the Catholic population46 and it was to have a profound effect on Republican thinking. By the time that Sands was fighting the by-election the IRA had failed to generate the popular support they had hoped to achieve through the ‘long war’ strategy. One supporter remarked that ‘the limitations of the Provisionals’ campaign had become evident. It was now seen by larger and larger sections of the ghetto population as getting nowhere, more and more out of control and a source of unnecessary hardship’.47 Sands’ victory, however, was seen by the IRA as

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evidence of substantial support for the Republican movement and the armed struggle, although the truth is many voters may have had other motives. Sands’ canvassers had campaigned on the basis that a vote for him was a humanitarian one, not a vote for the IRA.48 Moreover, he was nominated as an H-Block candidate, not as a Sinn Féin one and, with no SDLP candidate to vote for, it is plausible to assume that many Catholics simply wanted to register a vote against the Unionists.49 The important thing as far as IRA strategy was concerned was that, despite these caveats, the group, with some justification, perceived the vote as a moral mandate for the use of violence. The prospect of tapping and even developing this support was the key factor behind the ‘bullet and ballot box’ strategy of the early 1980s and the subsequent removal of the policy of abstentionism from the Dublin parliament in 1986. The decade saw Sinn Féin’s role evolve as the vehicle through which support could be mobilised for the national cause both north and south of the border. The IRA has long claimed to represent the Catholic population, especially after their ‘defensive’ role in the early 1970s. This has meant that they had everything to lose by putting this assertion to the test, particularly when the reality was that it would be disproved by the SDLP, and not much to gain because they had in any case already claimed to represent the minority community. A longstanding reason, therefore, for the IRA’s refusal to adopt an electoral strategy has been fear of failure.50 The ‘risk of humiliation’ was too great to take part in the district council Assembly elections of 1973 despite resentment that the SDLP was taking all the Nationalist vote.51 In the late 1970s ‘even the most militant supporters of “active” Republicanism shrank from the possibility of electoral rejection’,52 while Sinn Féin was concerned about the repercussions of a Sands defeat in the Fermanagh and south Tyrone by election.53 The truth was that up to 1981 most Republicans knew that their proclamations, claiming to receive public support from the Catholic population, bore no relation to reality. That is until Sands’ victory. In the end ‘it took the unwelcome initiative of the prisoners in starting a hunger strike for political status to force a reluctant leadership into electoral politics’.54 Sands’ success conquered the IRA’s fear of losing at the ballot box and the organisation now believed that it could credibly claim to represent a sizeable constituency, a claim that they would have found difficult to substantiate in the past. Adams could acknowledge that ‘the political campaign is important . . . because it shows the size of Sinn Féin’s and the IRA’s support. Before that, the IRA was dismissed as a “tiny group of criminals.” ’.55 The Sands vote had been achieved during a period of sustained IRA violence and so, rather than using politics as an alternative to violence, political engagement was very much to be part of a dual-track strategy that re-emphasised its use, as apparently condoned by the Fermanagh-south Tyrone electorate.56 Thus, while the ‘long war’ and the hunger strikes were certainly fundamental factors behind the evolution and greater utility of the IRA’s political front the architects of the new dual-track strategy did not see Sinn Féin as representing moderation towards the use of violence. What is important, however, as far as the

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subsequent peace process was concerned, was that a political front was being developed that could ultimately be used as the vehicle through which to pursue the struggle by alternative means if circumstances demanded it, even if this wasn’t the intention at the time. Although the idea of the hunger strikes was not initially supported by the IRA, the episode and its aftermath represented a watershed as far as two other important functions of Sinn Féin were concerned – the orchestration of the propaganda campaign against the British government and the internationalisation of the conflict. The strikes attracted global media coverage and the huge IrishAmerican diasporas (largely emanating from the emigration wave following the Irish famine of 1845–1849) have meant that the United States, in particular, has been a key battleground in the propaganda war. Washington has subsequently had an enormous impact on the role and evolution of the IRA’s political front by granting Adams a visa to visit the States in 1994 and by persuading the British government to engage with Sinn Féin. A good example of Irish Republican propaganda in the States has been the ‘Gerry Adams column’ in the Irish Voice, an Irish-America paper, through which the Sinn Féin leader has been able to channel the IRA’s view of events, criticising the ‘imperialist’ British, and lauding Republican ‘martyrs’.57 The column was particularly useful for Republicans as a way of explaining to the American audience the reasons, for example, behind the breakdown of the IRA’s ceasefire in February 1996 and how (alleged) British government obduracy and stalling caused it,58 and how the ‘international media gathered to see Sinn Féin [subsequently] being refused entry to the “all-party talks” ’ in June,59 and how ‘being stopped at British-staffed checkpoints [was] a fact of life for Nationalists in Northern Ireland’.60 Unlike the pro-state Loyalist political fronts, one of Sinn Féin’s roles has therefore been to discredit the ‘illegitimate’ British state and its forces whenever possible, both at home and abroad. One of the central messages that it has hoped to disseminate is that the partition of the island of Ireland is inherently unsustainable and one of the ways it has tried to illustrate this has been to manipulate sectarian tensions surrounding the marching season.61 Sharrock and Devenport, for example, wrote that Adams the tactician ‘could contemplate the mayhem, tragedy and disruption which Drumcree 1996 brought into ordinary people’s lives as an opportunity to be “developed and exploited” ’.62

Dual-track strategy James Prior, who had succeeded Humphrey Atkins as Secretary of State in Northern Ireland in September 1981, set up elections for an assembly to take place on the 20 October 1982 as part of a process known as ‘rolling devolution’. It was the first time Sinn Féin had contested elections since 1969 but it managed to win 10.1 per cent of the vote and 78 seats, while the SDLP canvassed 18.8 per cent of the vote. On 22 March 1983 Sinn Féin contested a council election in the north for the first time in 50 years and won a seat on the Omagh District Council

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by-election (through Seamus Kerr).63 On 9 June 1983 Gerry Adams was elected as MP for West Belfast, though, true to Republican tradition, he did not take up his seat. In the same election his party won 13.4 per cent of the vote against 17.9 per cent for the SDLP. On the 13 November 1983, as noted above, Adams succeeded the ‘traditionalist’ Ruairi O’Bradaigh as President of Sinn Féin – another pivotal event as far as the subsequent role of the political front was concerned. The Brighton bomb in October 1984, however, which nearly succeeded in wiping out the British cabinet, served as a powerful reminder that violence was to remain central to the struggle. The problem, however, for Sinn Féin was that this level of support had to be sustained. Any fall in the Republican vote would undermine the (in any case spurious) claim that the IRA represented the Catholic population. Electoral success, therefore, had to be sustained if there was not to be a further reevaluation of Republican strategy. Failures at the ballot box would serve to strengthen the hand of those within the movement who disapproved of any kind of ‘politics’ and would thus undermine the political front. This was especially the case when it later transpired that the IRA was receiving substantial shipments of arms from Libya in the mid-1980s. Danny Morrison’s defeat in the European election was just such a setback64 with one report suggesting that the IRA was ‘riddled with dissent since the elections to the European Parliament . . . when their vote collapsed’.65 Whereas popular support for the Republican movement generated by the hunger strikes had prompted it to adopt the electoral route, any decline in following would also have had ramifications on strategy and would have put pressure on this more ‘political’ path.66 The Anglo-Irish agreement of 1985, because it had a negative impact on Sinn Féin’s electoral performance,67 once again led some in the movement to question the efficacy of ‘politics’.68 Yet ultimately the political experiment was always threatened by the contradictions of the dual-track strategy. The support that Sinn Féin hoped to sustain and develop was increasingly undermined by IRA violence and especially by its ‘mistakes’. Atrocities such as those of Harrods, Enniskillen and Warrington caused public outrage that inevitably cost Sinn Féin votes. It was a no-win situation for the party. ‘Mistakes’ and civilian casualties would cost votes, electoral decline would strengthen the hand of the traditional ‘militarists’ to pursue further violence, and this would put yet more pressure on the political strategy. The tensions in the movement were manifested in Adams’ repeated warnings to his fellow Republicans that civilian deaths at the hands of the IRA threatened the electoral fortunes of Sinn Féin,69 which had declined by 1989, and thwarted his objective of broadening the support base of the movement. To some, wrote the late Mary Holland at the time, IRA bombs and its ‘mistakes’, such as the killing of 16-year-old Charles Love in January 1990, were a reminder that the military ‘wing’ would not be dictated to by Adams and his ‘political’ cohorts, and that Sinn Féin very much remained the junior ‘wing’ of the movement.70 While the desire to tap and mobilise popular support had brought the political

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dimension to fruition, and was certainly fundamental in the movement’s greater use of Sinn Féin, it was not going to be allowed to have the type of impact that would have permitted the political front to eclipse the ‘army’. Not that Adams was advocating this – his concerns appeared to be over the timing and targeting of attacks. Thus, while his strategy did represent moderation towards the use of violence in the sense that certain types of attack were thought to be undesirable, his advocation of the ‘fine-tuning’ of the armed struggle also meant that violence was to remain central to the struggle. What the ‘militarists’ appeared reluctant to accept was the further development of any kind of politics (and thus any increase in the engagement with British structures) that would deflect attention away from physical force Republicanism as the sole means to achieve the IRA’s goals, even if the political project did not in the main represent moderation towards the use of violence. There was, of course, the added suspicion that Adams’ strategy represented the thin end of the wedge and that more ‘betrayals’ would compromise traditional methods yet further. One could argue strongly, from the militarists’ point of view, that this has indeed happened. In the early 1990s it became increasingly clear to the Republican movement that conditions were emerging that would necessitate a ceasefire. It is not the intention here to outline in detail the factors that led to the ceasefires of 1994 but clearly these factors were also vital in bringing about the greater utility of the IRA’s political front as well as those of the Loyalist groups. Whether it was the ‘groundswell for peace’ from within the Catholic community,71 the positive overtures from the British government which repeatedly declared that it had ‘no selfish, strategic or economic interest in Northern Ireland’,72 the belief that the IRA’s back was against the wall (both because it was thought to be losing the ‘intelligence war’73 and because it was bearing the brunt of a Loyalist assassination campaign74), or the impact of President Clinton and Washington in ‘bringing Republicans in from the cold’, or a combination of all of these, that led to the IRA ceasefire of 1994, clearly, the Army Council felt that the time had come to consider a different strategy. Again, it would be misleading to suggest that that the IRA ceasefire somehow represented the gradual eclipsing of the Army Council by Sinn Féin in a zero sum game situation. It was not a case of the moderate political front having its way over an IRA that wanted to pursue the violent path. Rather, the Army Council had, under the influence of the Adams/McGuinness partnership, decided to pursue the more political strategy, given the circumstances that confronted them at the time, in the same way that, in 1986, it was the mainstream IRA that had sanctioned the end of the policy of abstention and not a Sinn Féin that was acting independently from its senior partner. So what were the alternatives to the armed struggle? Although the Army Council still called the shots, it did now appear that Sinn Féin was to be at the forefront of IRA strategy but not in tandem with IRA violence, nor indeed as an alternative to it, but supported by the threat of violence. As Aughey has argued Republicans may not have won the ‘war’ but they have been trying to win the argument and this is where Sinn Féin’s role has been of paramount importance.75

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It has done this on two levels. First, the political front has tried to sustain the Republican argument that its violent struggle was just and undefeated. In fact, one could argue that this endeavour, at least to some extent, has been assisted by the three democratic states involved in the peace process. The sponsorship of Sinn Féin by the United States, the Irish Republic and the UK while the threat of IRA violence has remained has meant that Republican aspirations, and even the means it used, have been given a degree of legitimacy. This legitimisation of extremism has meant that, at the time of writing, it is increasingly Sinn Féin and not the SDLP to whom the Catholic electorate look to play hardball when it comes to winning concessions for the Nationalist community as well as Catholics as a whole, and this has greatly enhanced Sinn Féin’s electoral performance. The attempt to sustain the legitimacy of the armed struggle and its ‘undefeated’ status at the time of the IRA’s ceasefires has also been designed to underpin the second level of its argument and one aimed inwardly at the Republican family. That is, the peace process and its ultimate outworking represents a triumph for Republicanism and this has necessitated the continuing existence and operational capability of the IRA as the manifestation of that triumph in the face of the dissident Republican groups who hold firm to the ideology and traditions of Irish Republicanism. One’s view of the role of Sinn Féin ever since the signing of the Good Friday Agreement depends on what one believes IRA intentions to be. If the view is that the IRA and Sinn Féin are genuine partners in the peace process then it is possible to argue that Sinn Féin is no longer the ‘front’ for an organisation that may be about to go into retirement.76 Perhaps it ceased to become the political front in 2001 (as conjectured earlier [footnote 15]) when the majority of the Army Council are said to have decided that Sinn Féin should henceforth be the driving force of the movement. If one believes that the IRA Army Council is still very much in control of the movement then Sinn Féin continues to be a political front. Moreover, if the IRA intends to go back to ‘war’ or at least reserve the right to, then we would have seen the use of the political front to unprecedented levels. Sinn Féin has managed to secure a number of ‘concessions’ from the British government at the same time as weakening state structures. In other words while it has been alleged that the IRA has regrouped, retrained and rearmed in the course of the peace process the political front has managed to weaken the state’s ability to respond to any return to ‘war’. The IRA, through Sinn Féin, has secured the release of nearly all of its prisoners, it managed to procure two executive positions in the Northern Ireland executive, it has taken up office space at Westminster and received office expenses (worth approximately £100,000 each for its four MPs), and it is currently negotiating amnesty for those IRA fugitives ‘on the run’. It also helped to demoralise, at least temporarily, the new Police Service of Northern Ireland, by pushing for radical police reforms (which have contributed to numerous early retirements and sickness absence)77 that Sinn Féin is still not satisfied with78 and

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continues to press for further British demilitarisation in the province. In addition, it has also been negotiating for former IRA terrorists and prisoners to be allowed to sit on the new District Policing Partnerships (which could potentially provide the IRA with a further intelligence gathering opportunity). In summary, if the peace process is the means through which the IRA has attempted to revitalise itself after its difficulties of the early 1990s, and has tried to weaken the British presence in the province, then its political front will have been used in new and remarkable ways to achieve this. If this scenario does not ultimately fit the reality in this case it is nevertheless possible to see how a political front could be used to such lengths.

The Loyalist political fronts It was the fracturing of the monolithic nature of unionism that ultimately led to the Loyalist groups’ political ventures of the 1970s. Traditionally ‘the PWC [Protestant Working-class] [believed] that its livelihood rested upon its support for the Stormont Government’.79 Much to the ire of hard line Unionists, however, the Northern Ireland Prime Minister, Terence O’Neill expressed his intention to introduce reforms to address sectarian tensions, thereby raising Catholic hopes at the same time as generating Protestant fears. As Boulton described thereafter ‘there was an unprecedented rift in the coalition of classes on which Unionist supremacy was dependent, with Paisley heading up a new working-class Unionism’.80 The manifestation of this was the creation of Paisley’s Democratic Unionist Party which was to be ‘on the right on constitutional issues and on the left on social issues’.81 Boulton also noted that: Clearly the rift arose from tactical, not social differences: the protestant working-class broke with O’Neill because he was soft on Catholics, not because he left protestant workers in slum houses. But the social chemistry of the situation was such that, once a rift had opened up, the protestant working-class began to become aware of specific class issues. They began, slowly, to develop a class consciousness. And they began to feel their strength as a class, distinctive and separate from middle-class Unionists.82 So this rupturing of what had been a monolith, which had its roots in the attempts by O’Neill to introduce reforms, laid the conditions whereby workingclass Loyalists could be used as the ‘muscle’ behind hardline but ‘respectable’ unionism, and it was ultimately the Loyalists’ awareness that they were being ‘used’ by Paisley and others that prompted them to seek a political voice of their own through their political fronts. It was the feeling that they could no longer rely on politicians to adequately represent them that underpinned their ventures into politics. The UVF’s failed Volunteer Political Party, for example, was established to ‘get some political dialogue going’ because ‘people had become disenchanted with the political leadership they had been getting which was

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leading us nowhere’ and, according to Gusty Spence (the reputed one time leader of the UVF), working-class Loyalists needed to be politicised.83 The UVF was also becoming aware that not only were the ‘politicians’ ignoring the welfare of working-class Loyalists but they were also devoid of any ideas as to how to bring the conflict to an end, and it was Loyalists who were paying the price for this with their lives. In summary, therefore, the group’s subsequent forays into politics were underpinned by two factors: first, the perception that the Loyalist working-classes were in need of political representation, rather than further exploitation, and second, the genuine desire to find imaginative and novel ways through which the violence could ultimately be brought to an end. Indeed, a 48-day ceasefire was called by the UVF in 1973 apparently ‘to assist the Ulster Loyalist Front [the UVF’s newly created political front] work for a political solution to the problems of Northern Ireland’.84 ‘Billy’ Mitchell, a senior UVF member at the time, recalled: We knew there had to be a different way, that we couldn’t go on sending people out to blow up pubs or to go out and shoot people – and at the same time to see our pubs and our shops being blown up and our people shot. It didn’t look as if the politicians were going to resolve it politically so we needed space. We felt if we called a ceasefire and stopped the hostilities, perhaps we could engage politically and maybe even ourselves come up with some political thoughts. We just felt that continued acts of violence weren’t taking us anywhere . . . While we were fighting the IRA, we were leaving the constitutional and the political crisis to the politicians. We woke up and realized that we’d been fighting a war for four years yet our country’s been sold down the river by the politicians. We’d been leaving the political war to the politicians whereas in actual fact the politicians had been losing that war. So we called a ceasefire and went to the politicians and told them we weren’t going to fight the Provos for ever.85 Through what became known as the Sunningdale Agreement, Secretary of State Willie Whitelaw managed to persuade the UUP, the SDLP and the Alliance party to share power.86 The Irish dimension, manifested in the Council of Ireland, however, was to many Unionists out of the question and the February 1974 Westminster election saw a resounding victory for the anti-Sunningdale Unionists through the UUUC (United Ulster Unionist Coalition), seriously undermining the new power sharing experiment. The protest against any Dublin involvement in the province’s affairs moved on to the streets culminating in what was to become a hugely significant event for its impact on the utility of Loyalist political fronts – the Ulster Workers’ Council strike. Glen Barr, the leading political spokesman for the UDA, was chairman of the strike committee, which was also supported by the UVF and was fronted by William Craig and Ian Paisley. Power was cut and, largely through UDA intimidation, the province gradually came to an economic standstill. To Loyalists and anti-Sunningdale Unionists the government had ignored

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the will of the people at the February election while Wilson’s provocative speech labelling them as ‘people who [spent] their lives sponging on Westminster and British democracy’ only incensed them further.87 Despite the newfound confidence amongst the Loyalist working-class after the UWC strike Ken Gibson of the Volunteer Political Party suffered a humiliating defeat in the general election of October 1974. It was one of what was to become a series of electoral embarrassments for the Loyalist political fronts in the years and decades ahead. There are a number of deep-seated explanations as to why the electoral potential and utility in general, of the Loyalist political fronts has been limited. To begin with there have been plenty of political alternatives to Loyalist political fronts, through the plethora of Unionist parties. Whereas there was no radical Nationalist alternative to Sinn Féin, the DUP, for example, has represented hard line unionism and so the political space was simply not there for Loyalist political fronts. Steve Bruce argued this in 1992 and also observed that being pro-state meant that the Loyalist fronts could not present a radical alternative in the same way that Sinn Féin could: The logic . . . is that there was and is no obvious political opening for the Loyalist paramilitaries. Precisely because they are Loyalists there is no possibility of acquiring a position analogous to that of Sinn Féin. When one is fighting to preserve the state from those who would destroy it and to maintain the status quo, one can complain about this or that element of the British government’s policies, but one cannot present a radical alternative.88 Indeed, while Sinn Féin was used as a propaganda tool to undermine the state in every possible way, Loyalists had no need of this because they supported the state. Moreover, while the role of the IRA’s political front included establishing alternative social structures, Loyalist groups supported those that already existed. As Bruce noted the lack of political space referred to above meant that the Loyalist political fronts had to be innovative to be noticed.89 They had to be different to try and appeal to the electorate by presenting fresh ideas compared to the ‘stick in the mud’ policies of Unionist parties that had ‘let them down’. These new ideas manifested themselves in attempts to bring new approaches to somehow ultimately ending the conflict and so, unlike Sinn Féin, the Loyalist political fronts did generally represent a sign of moderation towards the use of violence. The problem for the Loyalist political fronts was that these ‘innovative’ ideas were an affront to traditional unionism. Writing of Barr’s proposals for an independent Northern Ireland Bruce noted: that it was an innovation at all meant that it was suspect. The whole credo of unionism is a journey from Eden to hell. Things were once very good when all of Ireland was British. Then they were good because Ulster was

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British. Any future is hardly likely to be better than the past and is almost certain to be worse. The most successful Unionist politicians are those whose manner and style, as well as politics, are most obviously tied to the past. Even when it is presented as the last chance to hold on to the present, innovation is suspect because it is an admission that something must be given up.90 Thus, there has always been something of a dilemma for the Loyalist groups and their political prospects. In an attempt to break into the Unionist electorate they had to present an alternative to the stale old unionism yet anything innovative was treated with suspicion as a further potential dilution of the Britishness of the province. Moreover, the number of Unionist alternatives has also meant that anyone with serious political talent would usually find their way into one of the more mainstream parties. As a result, ‘while the Republican Movement attracts talent the Loyalist movement is led by men with muscle-bound vocal chords’.91 One of the objectives of IRA violence was to bomb their way to the negotiating table. Gusty Spence, reputed to be the one time leader of the UVF, stated that violence had worked for the IRA who were engaged in talks with government agents as part of the political process [in the early 1970s]. The UVF took a conscious decision to give the British Government a message that if Republican violence could get them to the conference table, then the UVF could commit more violence than the IRA.92 But, as Spence was well aware, the pro-state group had its limitations – if Loyalists tried to bomb their way to the negotiating table what could talks with the British government achieve? Talks to keep things as they were? In any case unionism had so many representatives to do this, who incidentally would use the threat of Loyalist turmoil as a bargaining tool themselves. So what was the point of ‘political’ representatives of the UVF and the UDA? The very fact that Unionist politicians were able to use Loyalist disenchantment undermined one of the potential utilities of Loyalist political fronts as the means for the British government to communicate with the UDA or the UVF without having to deal with the stigma of talking to terrorists. A further obstacle to Loyalist political fronts has therefore been the division of labour ethos that has existed in Protestant culture.93 When the UVF and the UDA did emerge some Unionist politicians did indeed see the value in using Loyalist muscle for political leverage. Even when the Protestant working-classes became aware of this, and some spokesmen sought to give them representation through the PUP and the UDP, the ‘law-abiding’ Protestant population, working-classes included, instinctively believed that politicians did the politics while the paramilitary’s role was ‘military’. For example when Tommy Herron, leader of the UDA in east Belfast and vice chairman, ‘stood as a Vanguard Unionist for the 1973 Assembly he got fewer votes than the UDA had members

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in the area’.94 Malachi O’Doherty, a Belfast author and journalist, stated that ‘those who support Loyalist organisations mostly give their votes to other parties which have a limited tolerance of old gunmen and offer no promotion to them’.95 In other words a natural extension of the ‘law abiding’ nature of unionism was that, if there had to be Loyalist paramilitaries, then there should at least be a division of labour. If Loyalist violence was an unfortunate necessity in responding to Republican terrorism it was certainly not going to be allowed to contaminate established political unionism. Not only did the ‘law abiding’ nature of Protestant culture mean that there was little time for paramilitary-inspired political projects, but it also meant that the political endeavours that were embarked upon would inevitably be undermined by Loyalist violence. This violence has often been reactionary – whether prompted by the perceived inadequacy of the British government’s response to Irish Republicans (or by fears of a secret deal between the two) or by the level of IRA violence itself. The 1975 IRA truce, for example, prompted the UVF (who feared a British sell-out) to try to draw the IRA back into conflict. Their political fronts therefore, which partly represented attempts to seek accommodation with their enemies, were prey to the imperatives of reactionary Loyalist violence that would undermine their attempts to achieve political ‘respectability’ in the midst of a ‘law abiding’ community. The Loyalist fronts have therefore indirectly also been at the mercy of the strategies of other agencies or groups in the domestic environment. Partly because of their weaker pro-state ideology the structures of the UVF and particularly the UDA, which have been decentralised in comparison to the IRA, have also undermined the utility of Loyalist political fronts. One manifestation of the structure of the UDA, for example, has been the space it has given for racketeering and corruption to flourish which has had a detrimental effect on the utility of the group’s political fronts, especially when they have been used as a conduit for political initiatives or as political parties fighting elections aiming to gain votes from the ‘law-abiding’ Protestant community. Again being prostate has been inhibitive here – at least on the Irish Republican side it has been possible to claim to its ‘community’ that it has had no moral or ideological problem with undermining the economy of a state that it has seen as illegitimate. The point has been argued above that the looser structure of the UDA has facilitated more illicit activity for personal gain. Therefore it would appear in this case that the political goal is diluted and that any use of a political front would be less likely for two reasons. First, personal gain has become more important than the political goal with some leaders, and second, the continuing political conflict has served as a cover for criminal enterprises. In this case such profiteers would see the establishment of a political front that sought to gain political respectability and that represented an attempt at resolving the conflict as a threat to their illegal empires. The peace process (that the UDA was involved with through the UDP until 2001), for example, has meant that paramilitary organised crime has increasingly come under the spotlight as the political conflict recedes.96 Moreover, if the UDA has had the image of a bunch of

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corrupt gangsters (and they appeared to be seen as such in the 1980s) then what chance for a political front at the ballot box? As Cusack and Taylor argue ‘the Loyalist terrorist, if recognised at all, is seen as being synonymous with a gangster, and is rarely given the political “legitimacy” and “status” his Republican counterpart attracts’.97 The divisions in the organisation were also bound to affect the prospects for a UDA political front. A divided UDA could quite likely lead to a divided political front and therefore undermine its effectiveness in whatever it tried to achieve. This appeared to be the case in January 2001 when an ‘anti-agreement faction’, amounting to about a third of the UDP, split from the party.98 If the front wasn’t divided then it couldn’t be representative of the whole organisation leaving scope for brigades that weren’t involved in its creation to engage in activity that would undermine what the political front was trying to accomplish. This contrasts with the relatively centralised nature of the Republican movement where Sinn Féin’s role has very much been part and parcel of overall IRA Republican strategy, notwithstanding the internal ‘frictions’ over Adams’ strategy in the 1980s/1990s and the splits of 1986 and 1997 that led to the formation of the Continuity IRA and Real IRA respectively. In spite of all of the obstacles undermining the utility of the pro-state Loyalist political fronts Gusty Spence was to have a profound influence on those that would one day be instrumental in providing the political cadre that would lead to the creation of the PUP.99 Without the experience in Long Kesh, Taylor argues that it is unlikely that David Ervine, Billy Hutchinson, William Smith and Gusty Spence himself, who were all to play ‘vital’ roles up to the Good Friday Agreement, would have emerged.100 Like Republicans, many Loyalists too had received a political education of sorts in prison. In 1977 Loyalists, once again fronted by Paisley and his DUP, attempted to repeat the workers strike of 1974 in protest at what they saw as inadequate measures against the IRA. This time it failed and for many Loyalists it was the last time that they were willing to be ‘used’ by the DUP leader. Andy Tyrie and John McMichael ‘set up a political think tank – the New Ulster Political Research Group – to work out the organisation’s own policy as its members no longer had any faith in mainstream Loyalist politicians’.101 They simultaneously established the Ulster Community Action Group (UCAG) to strengthen its position in the community.102 The outcome of the NUPRG was a paper called Beyond the Religious Divide, ‘which advocated negotiated independence with a constitutional Bill of Rights as “the only hope of achieving a united Northern Ireland” ’. It said there had to be a constitutional settlement that was ‘acceptable to both sections’ [of the community] and stressed that the idea ‘is not the creation of a Protestant dominated state, nor is it the stepping stone to a united Ireland’.103 Although the notion of an independent Northern Ireland never caught on the document did mark the beginning of the UDA’s political development that would flourish almost two decades later through its political front, the Ulster

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In a local government election in January 1981 the NUPRG managed to secure a seat through Sammy Millar. The UDA was not the only Loyalist organisation that was seeking to make an impact in the political sphere. In April 1978 the Independent Unionist group, linked to the UVF, was established, emphasising social and economic issues. Due to the controversial ‘Independent’ in its title its name was changed to the Progressive Unionist Party in May 1979. The hunger strikes also had an indirect impact on the UDA’s political thinkers. In June of that year it created the ULDP to ‘provide Loyalist political expression’ but it was also ‘a reaction to Sinn Féin’s re-emergence as a political force during the H Block campaign and the hunger strikes’.105 The creation of the ULDP also represented the demise of the influence of those who were associated with the NUPRG. John McMichael emerged as the political spokesman for the UDA, advocating a more limited form of independence.106 His venture into electoral politics proved to be a disaster, however, gaining only 2 per cent of the vote in the south Belfast Westminster by-election of February 1982.107 Subsequent electoral forays by the ULDP suffered a similar fate. In January 1987 the UDLP published its latest political initiative, Common Sense, which offered proportionality at every stage of government for Catholics108 but the political exploits of the UDA were to end with the assassination of John McMichael in December 1987.109 The response of the state in the 1990s, however, was to have a direct impact on the utility of the Loyalist political fronts. As with Sinn Féin, it was vital that the PUP and the UDP should remain fully engaged with the peace process, if the ceasefires of their respective organisations were to hold. As such the profiles and utility of these fronts reached unprecedented levels. The new political dispensation, however, did not include any UDP representation in the Assembly and this was a factor in the eventual demise of the party, although the UDA’s decentralised and fragmented structure of illegal fiefdoms had more to do with this. It dissolved its political front in November 2001, a month after John Reid, the Secretary of State for Northern Ireland, declared the organisation’s ceasefire over. The group has since claimed, through the Ulster Political Research Group (its latest political front), that it has reinstated its ceasefire (which was recognised by the government in November 2004) after a bitter feud that saw the eviction of Johnny Adair’s West Belfast brigade from the province. By contrast, the PUP did have two seats in the new assembly which gave the UVF a voice in government. Nevertheless, the perception that since the Good Friday Agreement was signed the state has been drip-feeding concessions to Sinn Féin and the IRA has at times led to a loss of faith in the peace process from within the group, which has had more of a political raison d’etre than the UDA, and this in turn has put pressure on the PUP.110

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Conclusion Terence O’Neill’s reforms, the emergence of NICRA, the Loyalist response to it, and an ill-judged state response to the evolving crisis, all served to provide a polarised environment in the early 1970s that militated against the utility of political fronts. The security force successes and the near defeat of the IRA through the 1975 truce, however, prompted the emerging new leadership to widen the struggle to all fronts and so Sinn Féin’s role was expanded accordingly through a process of ‘active abstentionism’. Indeed, it was the new leadership of Adams and McGuinness that was to be instrumental in providing new and innovative roles for Sinn Féin in the changing environment of the decades ahead. There is no accounting for unforeseen events for their impact on strategy and Sands’ by-election victory certainly represented a watershed in the Republican approach vis-à-vis the greater utilisation of Sinn Féin. Finally, the peace process, the ceasefires and the negotiations leading up to and beyond the Good Friday Agreement have accorded Sinn Féin an unprecedented role. Whether or not the political front has ultimately come to represent moderation towards the use of violence, the aspiration of the United States, the Irish Republic and the United Kingdom of drawing the Republican movement into an all-inclusive peace process, even without firm evidence that its armed struggle was over, has endowed Sinn Féin with a strong negotiating position to reap concessions for Nationalists and the Catholic community as a whole, and this has been a fundamental factor behind the party’s electoral success. If the hunger strikes and Sands’ victory were pivotal in enhancing Sinn Féin’s role, then the one event that was to provide an impetus for the creation of Loyalist political fronts was the Ulster Workers’ Council strike of 1974. Loyalist workers had managed to bring the province to a standstill giving them a new found confidence that led to the perception of some within the Loyalist groups that they could provide working-class loyalism with better and more ‘honest’ representation than they had been getting from ‘respectable’ Unionist politicians. These exploits, however, had little prospect of succeeding. Their pro-state ideology, already adequately represented through the Unionist parties, limited the impact that the Loyalist fronts could have and the reactionary violence of their respective terrorist groups also undermined them, especially when, at least to some degree, they represented attempts to somehow find a solution to the conflict. This violence along with the division of labour ethos that has permeated the ‘law-abiding’ Unionist population has also limited their appeal. Finally, as the UVF, and especially the UDA, have been less centralised than the IRA, there has always been the strong possibility that either the Loyalist political fronts would be divided or they would only represent a segment of the terrorist group. Nevertheless, despite these difficulties, as with Sinn Féin, it was the peace process that was to give the Loyalist political fronts (the PUP and the UDP) their zenith as the representatives for the UDA and UVF, whose continued ceasefires have been so vital to political progress.

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Notes 1 Exceptions include the case of Sinn Féin, which was taken over and adopted as the IRA’s political front in the late 1940s and the case of the Irish Republican Socialist Party which was created simultaneously with the Irish National Liberation Army in 1974. 2 Such as the Irish Northern Aid Committee and Friends of Sinn Féin in North America. The Italian Red Brigades group, for example, although it did not have a political front, it did have a number of other ‘fronts’, including a ‘mass front’ to coordinate contacts with factory workers (see, for example, Jamieson, A., ‘Entry, discipline and exit in the Italian Red Brigades’, Terrorism and Political Violence, 2:1, 1990, p. 5). 3 ETA’s political front has also used the name Euskal Herritarrok (‘ETA political wing revamps after Basque ballot’, Reuters, 24 June 2001). 4 Bishop, P. and Mallie, E., The Provisional IRA, London: Corgi, 1992, p. 39. After spending the 1930s and 1940s in the wilderness the link between the IRA and Sinn Féin was re-established in the late 1940s. 5 Silke, A., ‘Rebel’s dilemma: the changing relationship between the IRA, Sinn Féin and paramilitary vigilantism in Northern Ireland’, Terrorism and Political Violence, 11:1, 1990, pp. 72–73. 6 Ibid., pp. 72–73. The CAO was responsible for sanctioning vigilante activity as well as ‘frequently being the Officer Commanding (OC) for the IRA’s Internal Security for the local units’. 7 Taylor, P., Provos: The IRA and Sinn Féin, Bloomsbury: London, 1997, p. 278. 8 Hennessey, M., ‘SF aims for breakthrough after years of preparing’, Irish Times, 30 July 2001. 9 Moriarty, G., ‘New electoral map displays a stark contrast’, Irish Times, 11 June 2001. 10 Carroll, J., ‘I was in IRA, gun accused tells court’, Irish Times, 1 June 2000. 11 Noonan, M., quoted in ‘Ahern says his view of Sinn Féin remains the same’, Irish Times, 3 May 2001. 12 Clarke, L., ‘Leaked list names the men who run the IRA’, Sunday Times, 25 March 2001. 13 Ford R. and Evans, M., ‘Arrested IRA man “is Sinn Féin Cuba link” ’, The Times, 16 August 2001. 14 Ibid. 15 When it was rumoured that Martin McGuinness took over the leadership of the Army Council after the ‘debacle’ of Colombia and the 9/11 attacks on the US (see, for example, Cowan R. and Boycott, O., ‘Sinn Féin offers hope on IRA arms stockpile’, Guardian, 8 October 2001 and Ruddock, A., ‘How America held the IRA over a barrel’, Guardian newsunlimited, website: www.newsunlimited.co.uk/ nireland, 28 October 2001). 16 Watt, N., ‘Optimism grows over Ulster deal’, Guardian newsunlimited, website: www.newsunlimited.co.uk/nireland, 21 July 2001. 17 See Irish Independent quote in Brown, D., ‘What the Irish papers say’, Guardian newsunlimited, website:www.newsunlimited.co.uk/nireland, 9 July 2001. 18 Horgan, J. and Taylor, M., ‘The Provisional Irish Republican Army: command and functional structure’, Terrorism and Political Violence, 9:3, 1997, p. 26. 19 Of course the IRA would not place Sinn Féin in any such structure as it would give the lie to their claims that the IRA and Sinn Féin are completely separate organisations. 20 See note 15. 21 Op. cit., Taylor, Provos, p. 104. 22 Martin Meehan, PIRA commander in Belfast’s Ardoyne, quoted in op. cit., Taylor, Provos, p. 135.

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23 Republican ‘community policing’ has been ideologically compatible and useful for the IRA as it sustains its view that the state’s jurisdiction in Northern Ireland has been illegitimate. 24 Such as those allegedly involved with burglary or joy riding. 25 Op. cit., Silke p. 71. 26 Operation Motorman was the name given to the British military operation that saw 12,000 troops bulldoze their way into barricaded ‘no go’ areas. 27 Op. cit., Taylor, Provos, p. 152. 28 Juryless courts resided over by judges (to avoid the problem of juror intimidation). See The ‘Diplock’ Report: ‘Report of the Commission to Consider Legal Procedures to deal with Terrorist Activities in Northern Ireland’, Cmnd. 5185, published in London by, Her Majesty’s Stationery Office, 1972, SBN 10 151850 1, Cain website: http://cain.ulst.ac.uk/. 29 Op. cit., Bishop and Mallie, p. 272. 30 Ibid. 31 Special Branch source, interview. 32 Patterson, H., The Politics of Illusion, A Political History of the IRA, London: Serif, 1997, p. 190. 33 Adams, G., quoted in Patterson op. cit., p. 191. 34 Op. cit., Patterson, p. 191. 35 Morrison, D., quoted in op. cit., Bishop and Mallie p. 275. 36 Op. cit., Taylor, Provos, p. 197. 37 Ibid., p. 191. 38 Op. cit., Patterson, p. 185. 39 Quoted in op. cit., Taylor, Provos, p. 212. 40 Op. cit., Taylor, Provos, p. 186. 41 Sinn Féin Belfast City Councillor Michael Browne, interview. 42 Op. cit., Taylor, Provos, p. 201; Moloney, E., A Secret History of the IRA, Penguin, 2002, p. 513. 43 See op. cit., Bishop and Mallie, p. 319. 44 When prisoners spread their excrement over their cell walls. 45 Negotiations were taking place that would ensure that Sands’ vote would not be diminished by a rival Nationalist or SDLP candidate so that it was a two-horse race: unionism or Sands. 46 O’Connor, F., In Search Of A State, Catholics in Northern Ireland, Belfast: Blackstaff Press, p. 264. 47 Foley, G. (IRA supporter in the mid-1970s), quoted in op. cit., Patterson p. 192. 48 Op. cit., Taylor, Provos, p. 241. 49 Conor Cruise O’Brien expressed this view at the time in ‘A choice of risks in Ulster’, Observer, 7 June 1981. 50 This was confirmed by Belfast Sinn Féin councillor Michael Browne (interview). 51 Op. cit., Bishop and Mallie, p. 265. 52 Op. cit., Patterson, p. 193. 53 See Bew, P. and Gillespie, G., (1999) Northern Ireland, a Chronology of the Troubles, Dublin: Gill and Macmillan, 1999, p. 147. 54 Op. cit., Patterson p. 193. 55 Adams, G., quoted in Clifton, T., ‘We’ve got the spectators involved’, Newsweek, 16 January 1984. 56 After the death of Sands, Sinn Féin’s Owen Carron repeated Sands’ victory in Fermanagh and south Tyrone. 57 These articles were subsequently serialised in a book (Adams, G., (1997) An Irish Voice, the Quest for Peace, County Derry: Mount Eagle, 1997. See, for example, pp. 141, 148, 160. 58 Ibid., p. 201.

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59 Ibid., p. 218. 60 Ibid., p. 240. 61 For an analysis on how Sinn Féin stokes up tensions in the marching season see Dingley J., ‘Marching down the Garvaghy Road: Republican tactics and state response to the Orangemen’s claim to march their traditional route after the Drumcree church service’, Terrorism and Political Violence,14:3, 2002, pp. 42–79. 62 Sharrock, D. and Devenport, M., Man of War, Man of Peace, The Unauthorised Biography of Gerry Adams, London: Macmillan, 1998, p. 477. 63 See Bishop, P., ‘A gunman cleans up his act’, Observer, 17 April 1983. 64 See op. cit., Bew and Gillespie, p. 181. 65 Ryder, C., ‘The hawks win internal IRA power struggle’, Sunday Times, 9 September 1984. 66 See McKittrick, D., ‘Poll defeats push Republicans towards greater violence’, Independent, 5 February 1990. 67 The agreement was a watershed to many Catholics in Northern Ireland as it recognised that there were two traditions in the province. The effect was to boost the moderate SDLP, which had been one of its architects (initially through its New Ireland Forum), at the expense of Sinn Féin. 68 Such as Adams’ former prison ally Ivor Bell, and Ruairi O Bradaigh, who eventually left the mainstream movement (over its decision to abandon its policy of abstention from the Irish Dail) to form Republican Sinn Féin. 69 See ‘Killing of civilians alienates voters, Adams warns IRA’, Independent, 30 January 1989. 70 Holland, M., ‘Act of heartbreaking folly in Derry’, Irish Times, 31 January 1990. 71 Op. cit., Taylor, Provos, p. 317. 72 1993 Downing Street Declaration (Cain website: http://cain.ulst.ac.uk/ events/peace/docs/dsd151293.htm). 73 See, for example, Jack Holland, Hope Against History, The Ulster Conflict, London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1999. 74 See McKittrick, D., ‘Loyalist killings blamed on Protestant alienation’, Independent, 14 April 1993 and Cusack, J., ‘New militancy evident in Loyalist killings’, Irish Times, 19 September 1991. 75 Aughey, A., interview. 76 See, for example, McDonald, H., ‘IRA poised to wind down war machine’, Guardian newsunlimited, website: www.guardian.co.uk/Northern_Ireland/Story/ 0,2763,1324078,00.html. 77 See Cusack, J., ‘Low morale in RUC sees top officers getting out’, Irish Times, 13 February 2001. 78 The party continues to call for the abolition of the full-time police reserve and Special Branch. 79 McAuley, J., ‘Cuchullain and an RPG-7: the ideology and politics of the Ulster Defence Association’, in Hughes, E., Culture and Politics in Northern Ireland, Buckingham: Open University Press, 1994, p. 47. 80 Boulton, D., The UVF 1966–73, An Anatomy of Loyalist Rebellion, Dublin: Gill and Macmillan, 1973, p. 186. 81 Op. cit., Bew and Gillespie p. 40. This is not to suggest that there were not other differences other than class within unionism such as those that revolved around religious, town and country issues. 82 Op. cit., Boulton, p. 186. 83 Taylor, P., Loyalists, London: Bloomsbury, 1999, pp. 138–139. 84 Garland, R., (1997) ‘Seeking a political accommodation, the Ulster volunteer force: negotiating history’, Shankhill Community Publication, p. 23. 85 Mitchell, ‘Billy’, quoted in op. cit., Taylor, Loyalists, pp. 122–123. 86 Sunningdale was the location for the talks.

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87 Cain website, UWC Strike – text of broadcast made by Harold Wilson, 25 May 1974, website: http://cain.ulst.ac.uk/events/uwc/docs/hw25574.htm 88 Bruce, S., The Red Hand, Protestant Paramilitaries in Northern Ireland, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992, pp. 243–244. 89 Ibid., p. 243. 90 Ibid., p. 243. 91 O’ Doherty, M., ‘Man on a mission but future is not so bright’, Belfast Telegraph, 30 July 2002. 92 Op. cit., Garland, ‘Seeking a political Accommodation . . .’, p. 14. 93 Op. cit., Bruce, The Red Hand, p. 242. 94 Bruce, S., ‘Paramilitaries, peace, and politics: Ulster Loyalists and the 1994 truce’, Studies in Conflict and Terrorism, 18:1, 1995, p. 199. 95 O’ Doherty, M., ‘Man on a mission but future is not so bright’, Belfast Telegraph, 30 July 2002. 96 A Northern Ireland Select Committee report on organised crime stated that Northern Ireland paramilitaries were raking in 18 million pounds a year (‘The financing of terrorism in Northern Ireland’, 2 July 2002, website: www.parliament.thestationery-office.co.uk/pa/cm200102/cmselect/cmniaf/cmniaf.htm). 97 Cusack, J. and Taylor, M., ‘Resurgence of a terrorist organisation – part 1: the UDA, a case study’, Terrorism and Political Violence, 5:3, 1993, p. 2. 98 Murphy, C., ‘Anti-agreement faction splits from UDP’, Irish Times, 24 January 2001. 99 See Garland, R., Gusty Spence, Belfast: Blackstaff, 2001, pp. 173–174. 100 Op. cit., Taylor, Loyalists p. 141. 101 Ibid., p. 162. 102 Op. cit., McAuley, p. 54. 103 Beyond The Religious Divide, Belfast: Linen Hall Library. 104 Op. cit., Taylor, Loyalists, p. 162. 105 McMichael, G., An Ulster Voice, Colorado: Roberts Rinehart, 1999, p. 32. 106 Op. cit., Bruce, The Red Hand, p. 233. 107 Ibid., p. 241. 108 Common Sense, Belfast: Linen Hall library. 109 Much controversy has surrounded the murder of McMichael. Although the IRA was said to be responsible for placing the booby-trap bomb under his car it was believed that members of the UDA may have set him up because of his internal investigations into racketeering. 110 David Ervine, PUP spokesman, interview.

6

Terrorist weapons and technology* John Allison

Introduction In late 2003 and early 2004, United States military personnel based in Iraq found themselves in a situation not too dissimilar from that of Northern Ireland in the early 1970s, albeit on a much larger scale. Initially welcomed into Northern Ireland, British troops soon found themselves facing a ruthless and determined opponent, an opponent that was to mass-produce and emplace improvised explosive devices (IED). Lessons identified by the security forces in Northern Ireland, even 30 years ago can and should be applied to the situation in Iraq and any other theatre of operations around the world. Ultimately it may save lives. The PIRA and the British Government The Provisional Irish Republican Army (PIRA), born in December 1969,1 was to be responsible for some of the most innovative and devastating bombing operations ever mounted against the British security forces and consequently the civilian population of Northern Ireland. Initially, in the early 1970s, members of the British Army who were to bear the brunt of the violence throughout the ‘troubles’ did not have sufficient experience or equipment to deal with a sustained IED threat. Counter-measures were often hastily developed in response to the latest terrorist method of attack and in 1969/1970 PIRA bomb-makers were inexperienced and resources were limited, with the result that premature explosions frequently killed the Explosives Officer (EO) or bomb-layer. Both sides were to learn quickly from their mistakes. British security forces became world leaders in developing counter-terrorism tactics and technology while the PIRA evolved into a sophisticated, well-funded and highly effective terrorist organisation.2 Despite spending millions of pounds on enhancing security measures and deploying thousands of troops to Northern Ireland, the British government were unable to eliminate the IED threat. The PIRA continued to carry out strategic bombing operations on the UK mainland and tactical operations against the security forces in Northern Ireland right up to its ceasefire in 1997. However those individuals driving the PIRA bombing operations eventually realised that the British could not be defeated militarily and could not be bombed out of Northern Ireland, a realisation that has paved the way to the negotiating table.3

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The Engineering Department In the early years of the ‘troubles’ having lost bomb-makers and bomb-layers to premature explosions caused by poor workmanship or untested designs, the PIRA decided to loosely centralise bomb development and manufacturing operations.4 Within the PIRA order of battle this became the responsibility of the Engineering Department, under the control of ‘Southern Command’.5 In order to carry out various IED related tasks the PIRA needed a secure base. The Republic of Ireland was deemed to be an appropriate location, as the British security forces were not permitted to operate across the Irish border.6 The Engineering Department was entrusted with designing, testing and massproducing improvised munitions using off-the-shelf components. This was mainly because commercial alternatives were not available but other factors included the need to reduce the risk of compromise when components were being procured or transported, to reduce production costs and furthermore to enable the design to be replicated with minimal expertise or equipment. The centralisation of bomb design and production ensured that only the most reliable designs were ultimately reproduced. It also meant that a dedicated team could focus on this activity and therefore become increasingly adept at designing and producing homemade bombs.7 The decision to establish a dedicated IED development and manufacturing process led to the PIRA becoming one of the most innovative and effective terrorist groups in the world. The security forces began describing most PIRA improvised munitions as a ‘mark’ (MK) followed by a number, i.e. MK 1 or MK 2 variation. Hundreds of identical munitions, discovered throughout Northern Ireland, clearly indicated that they had been mass-produced or modified by the Engineering Department. Explosives At the beginning of the ‘troubles’, the PIRA were able to obtain large quantities of commercial explosives with ease.8 It was usually stolen from quarries or ‘donated’ by sympathisers.9 Commercial detonators and detonating cord were obtained from similar sources then from 1972 until the ceasefire in 1997, ‘bulk’ explosives, that is, explosives to be used in large quantities were usually improvised. Commercial explosives were used sparingly, in line with the PIRA’s ‘long war’ strategy, often as a booster charge for large vehicle bombs, mortars or as a main charge inside a small ‘victim operated’ device. The PIRA produced a wide range of homemade explosives, many of which were carcinogenic and sensitive to friction, heat or shock. Ammonium nitrate was often the ‘oxidiser’ and it was mixed with various chemicals, including nitrobenzene, aluminium and fuel oil to make an explosive substance. Ammonium nitrate and sugar (ANS), was widely used in large vehicle bombs in the 1990s. Detonators and detonating cord were improvised when commercial stocks ran low. However in the case of detonators, this was a particularly dangerous

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process. The the PIRA would produce mercury fulminate, a primary explosive, and carefully place it inside a copper tube. Detonating cord was rarely improvised but when it was it often consisted of an explosive powder poured into plastic tubing such as that found in laboratories. Firing switches Throughout the ‘troubles’ the PIRA developed a range of electrical ‘switches’ that were used to facilitate IED detonation. Prior to late 1971 most switches were based upon a chemical or mechanical action, were very crude and their use often resulted in an IED detonating prematurely or not at all. A number of these early switches were based upon designs taken from ‘unconventional warfare’ training manuals imported from the United States. Fairly complex electrical firing switches were not seen in Northern Ireland until late 1971. This was due to the availability of components, technical know-how and the security force response to the escalating violence. By the mid-1970s, members of the Engineering Department had built up a considerable amount of experience and were designing a wide range of reliable mechanical and electrical switches from its safe haven in the Republic of Ireland. PIRA bomb-makers experimented with numerous types of firing switch from the 1970s to the 1990s, the most important falling into the command, time-delay and victim-operated categories. Command detonated bombs, incorporated a firing switch that allowed the terrorist to detonate his bomb within a split second of deciding to do so. The link between the bomber and the bomb could be either non-physical or physical. The easiest method of achieving command detonation was to attach a length of twincore speaker wire to an electric detonator. The opposite end was attached to a homemade ‘firing pack’ made up of batteries wired together and a button, often a bell push or household light switch. At the desired time, or when the target came into view, the terrorist would press the button on the firing pack and the bomb would explode. Known as a command-wire IED (CWIED), it was used extensively by the PIRA. The CWIED suffered from a number of shortfalls. It consisted of a physical link in the form of twin-core wire that had to be well concealed and it could not be recovered once the bomb had detonated, providing the security forces with crucial forensic evidence. In the urban environment the command-wire was usually very short, in some cases between 6–8 metres, however in rural areas it could be much longer, with command wires over 1,000 metres in length being recorded by the security forces. The introduction of the radio-controlled IED (RCIED) in 1972 provided the terrorist with a ‘non-physical’ link with which to detonate his bomb. The RCIED could be quickly emplaced, thereby reducing time on the ground and the risk of compromise. There was no requirement to bury any lengthy wire that could be found by the security forces and lead them to the firing point. In simple terms the RCIED firing switch consisted of two electronic boxes, a transmitter (Tx) and a receiver (Rx). The Tx and Rx were tuned to the same radio frequency with the Rx remaining switched on until it received the ‘attack’ signal from the

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Tx. Early PIRA RCIEDs consisted of a McGregor model aircraft radio unit, a modified receiver and servo that would normally operate an aircraft control surface. When the servo was incorporated into an IED circuit it would close the firing circuit and detonate the bomb, upon receipt of the ‘attack signal’. Spurious radio signals often resulted in premature explosions, the PIRA attempted to overcome this problem by fitting the Rx with a mechanical timer. The timer was used to ensure that the Rx did not receive any power until the bomb-layer was well away from the bomb. If a spurious radio signal was present in the vicinity of the Rx and the bomb it could not trigger the IED until the timer had wound down and ‘armed’ the Rx. As the years went by, PIRA RCIEDs became more and more sophisticated. The evolutionary process was largely driven by security force counter-measures. To increase reliability and safety, the PIRA added an encoder to the Tx and a decoder to the Rx. The encoder generated an additional signal that would have to be recognised by the decoder before the IED could be detonated. While the RCIED was a very effective improvised weapon system, it had its limitations. Poor line-of-sight from Tx to Rx, weather conditions, battery life, antenna siting and jamming were all factors that could result in non-detonation. When the security forces ‘chased’ the PIRA up and down the frequency spectrum by jamming attack signals with electronic counter-measure (ECM) equipment, they responded by testing and modifying a wide range of electronic devices that were capable of transmitting an attack signal through the air, including, infra-red systems, modified radar guns, photo-flash slave units and even laser firing systems. Time-delay switches came in many guises throughout the ‘troubles’. Initially they were only used as a firing switch but as bombs began to explode prematurely, they were also used as a means of arming a bomb once it had been emplaced. In 1970 and early 1971, many were based upon a mechanical or chemical action. The bomb-maker would open the jaws of a household clothes peg and solder would then be wrapped around the end of the peg in order to keep the jaws open. Two drawing pins, each one attached to the end of a piece of wire, would be pushed into the open jaws, the clothes peg switch would then be wired into an electric circuit. The solder would eventually stretch allowing the jaws and the drawing pins to come into contact, complete the electric circuit and detonate the bomb. Mousetraps were also used as time-delay switches; the flyover bar would be pulled back and restrained by a length of solder. When it stretched the bar would snap forward and make contact with a drawing pin pushed into the wooden base. While this was a cheap and simple method of preparing a firing switch, it was not reliable. Different types of solder and environmental conditions could cause the bomb to explode earlier or later than expected. Early chemical delay switches comprised of a condom filled with acid, surrounded by sodium chlorate and sugar. The acid would eat through the condom, react with the sugar/chlorate mixture which having caught fire would ignite a length of safety fuse and the bomb would explode. This method of time delay was also used extensively with incendiary devices.

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Clockwork time-delay mechanisms, usually based on a modified alarm clock, were also being fielded by the PIRA in the early 1970s. The clock was modified in a variety of ways – a drawing pin attached to a wire could be pushed through the plastic lens and the other wire would be attached to the body of the clock. The bomb-maker would then remove one of the hands, depending on the timedelay required. Eventually the hand would make contact with the pin and the bomb would explode. While this should have been more effective than a mechanical or chemical switch it was not. The bomb-maker would sometimes forget to scrape off a layer of paint or lacquer from the clock hand or body when attaching a wire, this layer would act as an insulator and the bomb would not detonate. Standards of soldering and general fabrication were often poor, which accounted for the failure and premature detonation rate of many early IEDs. Eventually the Engineering Department came up with a solution to most timedelay reliability and safety problems with the development of the timer and power unit (TPU). The TPU was simply an electrical circuit in a plywood box, incorporating a 60 or 120-minute pocket reminder or Memopark timer, a circuit breaker, often in the form of a clothes peg, a warning bulb and a battery. The Swiss-made Memopark, parking meter timer is worthy of further mention. It consisted of a high specification clockwork mechanism that would normally be attached to a key ring and kept in ones pocket. It was very small, highly reliable and required little modification. The first one was used in Northern Ireland in 1971 although the PIRA were not the first terrorist group to use them. They appeared in limited numbers until the mid-1970s when the PIRA began to purchase them in bulk from Switzerland. The small and innocuous Memopark timer became a regular feature of PIRA devices up until the ceasefire in 1997. The TPU was designed to be attached to an IED in order to allow the bomb-layer to emplace the device while it was unarmed and therefore in a safe condition. It also allowed the bomb-layer to make good his escape before the bomb detonated – the security forces called it a ‘safe-to-arm’ switch. The TPU could be incorporated into a variety of devices, mortar firing systems, car bombs and landmines either as a firing switch to initiate the bomb or as an arming switch to arm the electric circuit in preparation for firing. By the time the PIRA declared its ceasefire the security forces had classified 18 different types of TPU. While certain components were removed or substituted, the principle behind the TPU never changed. Some TPUs incorporated long-delay electronic integrated circuits, like the one used in the Brighton bombing. Others contained an additional antihandling or booby-trap switch. The booby-trap, anti-handling or victim-operated firing switch, as its name implies, was designed to be triggered by an unsuspecting person. The switch generally functioned when the forces of pressure, pressure release and pull were applied to it. Once again the earliest mechanical booby-trap switches often consisted of a mousetrap or clothes peg. The flyover bar on a mousetrap would be pulled back and a heavy object would be placed on top. Anyone moving the object would cause the bar to spring forward and make contact with a drawing

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pin or bare wire on its base, thereby closing the firing circuit. A clothes peg with an insulator, in-between its studded jaws, would be attached to a piece of fishing line as a tripwire. If a soldier stumbled over the tripwire the insulator would be pulled out from between the jaws causing the bomb to explode. Homemade pressure pads were frequently used by the PIRA in the rural environment, in an attempt to kill members of the security forces. Made from various off-the-shelf components such as foam, tin foil and plywood, they were often emplaced by the PIRA in and around choke points such as a gap in a hedge or small bridge over a stream. The soldier would step onto the concealed pad, exerting pressure and the bomb would explode. Other booby-trap switches were designed to be tilted in order to set off the bomb. Known as ‘tilt-switches’, they often consisted of a commercially manufactured mercury switch removed from a domestic appliance or a homemade variant, a glass test tube containing a globule of mercury blocked at one end by a cork. Two metal pins, one attached to a positive wire, the other to a negative wire were pushed through the cork. When the test tube was knocked or tilted the mercury would cover both pins and complete the circuit. When the micro-switch became widely available, PIRA bomb-makers incorporated it into numerous devices. They were initially discovered inside devices in late 1971 when the PIRA began to deliberately target the Ammunition Technical Officer (ATO). Having observed bomb-disposal procedures the terrorist attempted to make it harder to disarm the bomb. Attractive items were booby-trapped by the PIRA. If a soldier dropped a water bottle or rifle magazine while out on patrol, the PIRA would take it away and fit a booby-trap mechanism, often consisting of a mercury tilt or micro-switch. The PIRA also employed the same methods to booby-trap ‘terrorist’ paraphernalia deliberately placed in the vicinity of a known patrol route or security force base in the hope that a soldier would attempt to pick up the item. More sophisticated electronic booby-trap switches were also used including light-sensitive devices, hidden behind PIRA recruiting posters. When the Police or Army attempted to remove them, the light sensitive switch would be exposed to the light and a concealed bomb would detonate. The majority of under vehicle booby-traps (UVBT) encountered in Northern Ireland used one of the switches previously discussed, mercury tilt being the most popular. The PIRA bomb-maker was only limited by his imagination when building victim-operated switches, the possibilities were endless. Landmines/roadside bombs The improvised landmine was widely used in the rural environment against members of the security. One of the first common improvised landmines in 1970 was the ‘nail mine’. It consisted of a large wooden box containing over 20 six inch nails, commercial explosive and a clothes peg electrical firing switch. PIRA bomb-makers then attempted to copy the American ‘Claymore’, directional mine. A long, thin plywood box was constructed and filled with commercial explosive. Shrapnel in the form of nails or scrap metal off-cuts (shipyard

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confetti) was then inserted in between the face of the mine and the explosives. The PIRA also produced a type of fougasse, known as the Shotgun mine, it was simply a steel tube containing a propellant charge and ball bearings. The homemade claymore was designed to project the bulk of its explosive force and shrapnel in a directional manner towards the target, although in practice it was not very effective. Both the nail and claymore mine could be detonated on command by the terrorist or emplaced as a trip-wire booby-trap device. To be effective, against a vehicle or a soldier on foot, the mine had to be surface-laid thereby increasing the risk of detection. If the vehicle were moving at speed, the terrorist would have to detonate the mine at exactly the right time to ensure that the small explosive charge destroyed the vehicle and killed the occupants. By 1972, particularly in the high-threat border area, the practise of travelling in soft-skinned vehicles had been abandoned in favour of armoured cars such as the Saracen. The PIRA quickly realised that its nail or claymore mines would be largely ineffective against such targets. They began to fabricate huge blast mines that would be buried underneath or at the side of a road regularly used by the security forces. In the early years they were often detonated via command-wire. The terrorist would select an area of high ground, often in the Republic of Ireland, giving him line-of-sight to the bomb and would bury a length of wire between the two points. The bomb itself usually consisted of homemade explosive and a commercial booster charge packed into a number of empty beer kegs, 45 gallon oil drums, gas cylinders or milk churns. To ensure that the device could be rapidly emplaced, the PIRA often looked for an existing hole underneath or beside the road, such as a culvert, drain or inspection chamber. The bomb would be hidden in the pipe and connected to the wire. After a period of time the security forces had charted the location of a number of these vulnerable points and were also taking steps to seal or search them on a regular basis. The terrorist would also identify a patch of ground near a junction or narrow section of a road where a vehicle might be forced to slow down, and therefore would be more easily engaged. He would look for a marker, a telegraph pole or prominent tree and as the vehicle passed the marker he would often detonate the bomb from the safety of a firing point in the Irish Republic. Burying a large blast device into the ground took time and also created ground disturbance that could be exploited by the security forces, therefore the PIRA also concealed blast devices inside objects that did not look out of place along the roadside such as farm trailers or abandoned vehicles. These bombs were often detonated by radio-control firing switch. By 1977 the threat from the roadside bomb or mine, in rural border areas, had become intolerable. The Army banned all nonessential vehicle movement in those areas and became reliant on the helicopter. Mortars On the 5 Dec 1972, the PIRA launched its first successful mortar attack on the security forces in Northern Ireland.10 This improvised, indirect fire, stand-off weapon system allowed the terrorist to defeat upgraded perimeter security

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measures from a safe distance and eroded the morale of the security forces who had previously regarded themselves as being safe ‘behind the wire’. Such attacks also generated media interest,11 boosted the morale of PIRA members and aided the recruitment process. A wide variety of firing switches could be used with the homemade mortar and it was not designed to be re-used, unlike a military mortar system, therefore the terrorist did not have to expose himself to greater danger by attempting to recover the weapon after the attack. Throughout the ‘troubles’ PIRA engineers constantly worked on enhancing mortar range and explosive capacity, in response to measures put in place by the security forces, although these two factors usually worked against each other. Having no doubt studied the design theory behind commercially manufactured military mortar systems, the first PIRA mortar dubbed the MK 1 consisted of a section of copper pipe, 50mm in diameter, filled with commercial explosives. A .303 cartridge housed in a mild steel tail attached to the mortar bomb body would project the munition towards the target, having been struck by a fixed firing pin welded into the base of the mortar barrel. A considerable amount of trial and error on the part of the PIRA bomb-maker eventually led to the development of the MK 5 mortar, first discovered in May 1974. The rapidly changing security environment and post-operation analysis conducted by the PIRA to discover what might have gone wrong and equally what had workeddetermined the speed at which the improvised mortar evolved and mutated in the 1970s. The MK 6 improvised mortar, first deployed by the PIRA on 28 September 1974,12 was superior to its predecessors. Design flaws and manufacturing defects had been addressed and it was deemed by the security forces to be a safer and more reliable improvised munition. The MK 6 mild steel round was designed to be dropped into the mortar barrel onto a fixed firing pin that would strike a .22 rim fire cartridge in the base of the tail. The .22 cartridge would ignite homemade gunpowder or sodium chlorate/sugar charge and the bomb would be propelled to the target. Having been launched, a wind driven ‘arming vane’ in the nose of the mortar would screw down into its housing and cause the munition to detonate on impact. The MK 6 mortar was one of the PIRA’s most successful munitions, with a range of up to 1,200 metres it afforded the terrorist a considerable amount of stand-off protection, although accuracy was affected as the distance from the base plate to the target increased. It was a small munition, 18cm in length and 60mm in diameter, and was therefore well suited to deployment within the urban environment or from the inside of a vehicle. The payload usually consisted of homemade explosive such as ammonium nitrate and aluminium (ANAL) although Semtex was used for prestige operations. The manual placement of a round into the mortar barrel was quickly abandoned with a MK 6 variant that could be fired electrically. A photographic flashbulb would be inserted into the tail of the munition, which in turn was pre-loaded into the mortar barrel. A twin-core wire would run from the flashbulb, through a hole drilled into the base of the barrel to a time-delay or command-firing switch. On 6 March 1976, the PIRA fired 13 electrically initiated, MK 6 mortars into

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Aldergrove Airport (now Belfast International).13 The multi-tube base plate, mounted on the back of a lorry parked alongside the airport perimeter, was concealed beneath a load of sand. The attack caused little physical damage, however, the PIRA were seen to be capable of breaching airport security. Three hundred passengers had to be evacuated from the terminal building, the security forces were effectively discredited and the whole episode attracted a considerable amount of media interest. The MK 6 continued to be used by the PIRA throughout the ‘troubles’. One of the most audacious attacks was mounted against Heathrow airport between 9–13 March 1994 when 13 rounds were fired from a variety of base-plates concealed within a Nissan Micra, a bush and a hole in the ground.14 As the security forces continued to fortify Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC) stations and patrol bases throughout the 1980s and 1990s, the PIRA attempted to design and build mortar systems capable of breaching hardened structures. The MK10 mortar was first deployed in March 1979 and like the MK 6 it was used effectively into the 1990s. It was launched from single and multi-tube baseplates and was fitted with a variety of fuses. The first fusing mechanisms were reliant on black powder safety fuse, however these were eventually superseded by mechanical variations, providing increased safety and reliability. The bomb often contained approximately 20kg of homemade explosive such as ammonium nitrate and nitrobenzene (ANNIE) although Semtex was used for the prestige attack on Downing Street on 7 February 1991.15 Having briefly experimented, unsuccessfully with the MK 13 and 14 mortar systems, the PIRA developed the MK 15 in 1992. First used to attack a police station on 5 Dec 1992,16 it had a payload of approximately 70kg of ANS and a range of over 150 metres. Homemade black-powder propellant, electrically ignited by a flash bulb, was designed to project the modified gas cylinder out of the launcher towards the target. In one attack in 1993, ten MK 15 mortars were fired at a security force base, all ten rounds hit the target, and three exploded, a combined explosive weight of over 700kg of homemade explosive.17 In common with other operations involving IEDs, the PIRA realised that the issue of concealment, whether transporting mortar components or a loaded baseplate, were critical issues that had to be addressed if they were to successfully engage the security forces. Mortar attacks, manually launched from groundmounted single tube launchers in the early 1970s rapidly evolved into more complex devices. Multi-tube base-plates became commonplace and were concealed inside lorries, tractor-trailers, recreational vehicles and cars. Quite often a section of roof directly above the base-plate would be removed and replaced with flexible material such as cardboard that had been spray painted to match the vehicle colour scheme. This modification allowed the rounds to launch without obstruction, however, vehicles were not always modified externally. The PIRA had been known to use a low explosive charge to remove a vehicle rear window prior to the actual mortar launch. Single tube base-plates were concealed in a variety of ways; a number of MK 15 attacks having been launched from a baseplate attached to the rear of a tractor and covered by a fake straw bale.

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A mechanical or electronic time-delay firing switch linked to a sequential firing pack initiated the majority of multi-tube base plate attacks. The sequential firing pack would ensure that each round launched individually in order to reduce the stress on the base-plate and to ensure that rounds were not damaged prior to launch. Command-wire, radio-control or light (photo-flash) firing switches would only be used where optimum control over the time of launch was required, for example when a helicopter was coming in to land. In a bid to frustrate the efforts of the ATO or Scenes of Crime Officer (SOCO), the PIRA would often booby-trap the base-plate, with victim operated firing switches being concealed on or around the base-plate or even inside a ‘blind’ mortar. Car bombs The PIRA are frequently regarded as the pioneers of the vehicle borne IED (VBIED) or car bomb. However, wheeled and motorised transport of one type or another has been widely utilised by anarchists and terrorists as a means of transporting and concealing the explosive device for the past 100 years.18 The modern day car with its powerful engine and metal body simply provides the terrorist with the ability to transport much larger quantities of explosive material to the respective target in a timely fashion. When the bomb detonates, the metal bodywork disintegrates and provides the terrorist with an efficient ‘fragmentation sleeve’ that enhances blast and primary fragmentation effects. While media reports would often suggest that the IRA car bomb was a sophisticated device, the opposite was often true. However as the security forces became more proficient at recognising and dealing with the car bomb threat, the terrorist began to demonstrate considerable ingenuity when concealing the bomb components within the vehicle. The PIRA generally used the car bomb as a mobile demolition charge that could be rapidly emplaced against static targets in order to cause substantial damage to property. Where building demolition was the desired outcome, the PIRA would use a basic time delay mechanism as a firing switch. If more control over detonation time were required, for example if the terrorist wanted to use the car bomb against a mobile or specific target, a command-wire or radiocontrolled firing switch would be used. In certain cases the terrorist would attempt to lure members of the security forces into the vicinity of a boobytrapped vehicle. In an effort to entice them to open a door and detonate the bomb, possibly by staging an incident or by openly displaying an ‘attractive item’ on the parcel shelf or rear seat. Such devices were often wired into the vehicle courtesy light-when the door was opened and the light came on, power would flow to an electric detonator. The VBIED was not widely used by the PIRA until 1972,19 however, a number of small explosive devices were deployed in vehicles in 1971. These early IEDs were often classed as a ‘bomb in a car’ as opposed to a ‘car bomb’. In some cases the terrorist would carefully insert a small explosive charge into the mouth of the petrol tank filler pipe, the explosive charge would be linked

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with detonating cord running along the exterior of the vehicle to a mechanical alarm clock and electric detonator in the boot. As this link was clearly visible to any alert member of the security forces such devices were rapidly identified and rendered safe by the ATO. Having no doubt monitored the security force response, the PIRA soon decided to place the explosive charge inside the car boot and against the fuel tank, in a further attempt to create a fireball effect and to aid concealment. With the entire device now hidden from view in a closed and possibly locked boot, the ATO was forced to refine his operating procedures. Throughout 1971, the car bomb seldom consisted of more than 50lbs of explosives.20 With the production of homemade explosives well established by early 1972 the PIRA, no longer reliant on precious stocks of commercial explosives, were in a position to deploy larger bombs. By 1976 vehicles containing up to 1,000lbs of homemade explosives had been recovered by the security forces.21 The explosives would be placed into the vehicle in a number of ways. The ‘mix’ would sometimes be shovelled into milk churns, beer kegs, empty gas cylinders and latterly plastic ‘wheelie bins’, in order to facilitate rapid emplacement into the load carrying compartment of the vehicle. These containers would then be quickly covered with innocuous items. Additional homemade munitions would often be placed into the vehicle in order to enhance blast and fragmentation effects, for example mortar bombs. For prestige operations, such as a car bomb attack in England, the terrorist would take extra care to conceal the explosive charge. In the early 1970s, where the bomb vehicle was a standard saloon, the PIRA would often remove the rear seat squab from the vehicle, cut out the springs and fill the void with a commercial booster charge, detonating cord and 3–5lb plastic bags containing homemade explosive. When security was tightened in and around city centres in Northern Ireland, it became even more difficult to deliver a bomb into a protected area therefore concealment issues came to the fore. The PIRA stole service vehicles such as a refuse lorry or butchers van. The cargo would then be removed and replaced once the explosive charge had been installed. Such vehicles had the added advantage of discouraging the search team from carrying out a thorough check of the vehicle, as few soldiers would wish to rummage through household waste or raw meat. In a further attempt to infiltrate the car bomb into sensitive locations, the PIRA adopted the tactic of ‘proxy’ bombing.22 In 1974 just under half of all car bombs in Northern Ireland were delivered by ‘proxy’, that is, an innocent man would often be forced to drive a vehicle containing a bomb towards a checkpoint or police station. Following a slight decline in the late 1970s and 1980s, the tactic resurfaced in 1990 when three ‘proxy’ bombs exploded across Northern Ireland resulting in the deaths of six soldiers and one civilian.23 The tactics employed by the terrorist in 1990 were a little different to those employed in the 1970s. The coerced driver, sometimes an ‘off-duty’ member of the security forces or a building contractor who had worked on a military base, would be tied into the vehicle in an attempt to ensure that he did not escape at any time.

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In the early days, the time-delay firing switch was often nothing more than a modified ‘Big Ben’ mechanical alarm clock attached to a battery and electric detonator. If concealment was foremost in the bomb-makers mind that day, the time delay mechanism would often be concealed alongside the explosive payload. More commonly the ‘clock box’, as the earliest TPUs were known, would be hidden in the front of the vehicle within arm’s reach of the driver in order to facilitate rapid arming. A detonating cord link would then run from the front of the vehicle, often underneath the carpet, to a commercial booster charge inserted into the homemade explosive concealed in the rear of the automobile. From the mid-1970s until the final ceasefire in 1997 most car bombs were found to contain a standardised time delay element, mass-produced by the Engineering Department, in the form of a TPU. On rare occasions a command-wire or radiocontrolled device would be used to target a mobile police or Army patrol. Intense scrutiny of such vehicles by members of the security forces would occasionally reveal the presence of a ‘false antenna’ or other unusual, external modification. The radio-controlled VBIED would generally be used against mobile targets, where their arrival in time and space could not be accurately predicted and where a command-wire could not be easily concealed. It was also well suited to the ‘come-on’ scenario, where members of the security forces could be drawn into the ‘kill-zone’ by the terrorist. One of the most infamous and ingenious attacks involving a VBIED and command-wire occurred in the early hours of 1 May 1992 at a permanent vehicle checkpoint (PVCP) called Romeo 15 (R15), near Newry.24 The main Belfast–Dublin railway line ran past the PVCP, approximately 50 yards away. The PIRA, having identified vulnerability, proceeded to lift a Ford Transit van containing several hundred pounds of HME onto the railway track using a stolen excavator 2kms away from the PVCP. Running on homemade wheels, the van was pushed down the railway line towards the checkpoint. As the van ran downhill in low gear, a command-wire was paying out (unwinding) from the rear of the van. Using the vehicle courtesy light as a marker, the PIRA detonated the bomb from a distance of almost 2kms using an electrical firing pack as the van drew parallel to the PVCP. The complex was devastated, one soldier was killed and 23 others were injured. The incident served as a reminder that a VBIED attack could take many forms. By the 1990s the 1,000lb vehicle bomb had become commonplace and the terrorist had developed many ingenious ways in which to conceal his explosive cargo. On the 12 July 1994, a lorry trailer was found to contain approximately two tonnes of ANS by a policeman on duty at the Port of Heysham in Lancashire.25 The trailer consisting of longitudinal girders had been modified by welders fitting sheet steel plates to the top and bottom of the box sections to form a void space into which was shovelled the ANS. Scaffold bars filled with explosives ran through the bed of the trailer to act as booster charges. Detonating cord, fed from the front of the tractor unit through a plastic hose to the trailer, ran through the centre of the scaffold bars. Initiation was to have been achieved with the aid of two detonators and MK 17 TPU positioned inside a

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void in the vehicle dashboard. On the 9 February 1996 the PIRA declared an end to its ceasefire when a large truck bomb, consisting of approximately 1.5 tonnes of HME exploded at South Quay, Canary Wharf, London.26 The blast left a crater 32ft wide and 10ft deep and resulted in insurance claims for over £100 million. ANS had been packed into purpose built void spaces within the bed of the stolen car transporter and was initiated with the aid of a TPU, detonating cord and booster charges.

Countering the IED Intelligence In any counter-bomber campaign, the primary aim must be to prevent the bomb from being constructed in the first place. Should the bomb be constructed, the security forces must have procedures in place that will deter or prevent the bomb-layer from emplacing the device. If the device is emplaced, steps must be taken to disrupt the bomb or mitigate the effects of an explosion. The counterbomber campaign is first and foremost an intelligence war.27 The provision of high quality intelligence from a variety of sources is the greatest weapon that the security forces can deploy against the bomber. The collection of intelligence from human assets, known as HUMINT, by members of the security forces frequently resulted in some of the most devastating counter-bomber operations in Northern Ireland. At the most basic level a section commander might engage a member of the public, or ‘casual contact’, in conversation while patrolling through a housing estate possibly resulting in some low-grade intelligence that could be exploited by members of the local intelligence cell. Individuals with access to a terrorist organisation, such as the girlfriend of a cell member might be encouraged to provide information in exchange for money or possibly a reduced charge in response to a minor traffic offence. This individual would be known as an ‘informant’. At a higher level a ‘handler’ would deliberately attempt to task an informant with gathering information from within the terrorist grouping in order to establish facts about a bombing operation, the location of bomb-making equipment or other specific operation. When an informant was directed he or she would become known as an ‘agent’. Agent handlers, belonging to a unit known as the Force Research Unit (FRU), would often attempt to recruit quartermasters and bomb-makers in order to deny valuable resources to the terrorist and to thwart bomb attacks. While intelligence gleaned from HUMINT sources undoubtedly saved lives and prevented the destruction of property, human sources were not infallible. Informant motivation had to be questioned as not all were volunteering information on ethical grounds and it was extremely dangerous work. Surveillance operations were also widely conducted throughout Northern Ireland during the ‘troubles’. The Mobile Reconnaissance Force (MRF) was the forerunner of the modern day surveillance unit. It had been initially established

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to counter bomb attacks in Belfast City centre. Operators would drive around likely emplacement locations in unmarked cars and in civilian clothes looking for suspicious activity. By 1973 the MRF had been replaced by a unit known initially as the 14 Intelligence and Security Company, the name was later changed to the 14 Intelligence Company or ‘14 Int’.28 In response to an ever-increasing number of well-planned PIRA operations, soldiers volunteering for duty with the unit received training from the Special Air Service (SAS) in order to prepare them for operations in extremely hostile territory in Northern Ireland.29 Surveillance operations often mounted in and around areas thought to contain ‘hides’ or against known bomb-makers, were conducted in a variety of ways. An operator, having been trained how to construct a hide within a bush or hedge line, would observe the target and monitor any activity in the area. In areas like south Armagh, where the local populace were very surveillance aware there was always a danger that an operator lying in a hedgerow would be compromised. As technology became more advanced, wireless covert camera ‘fits’ were deployed in order to eliminate the requirement for an operator to remain in situ near the target for long periods of time. In some cases a team would reconnoitre the target in order to identify a suitable location for the camera, its power-source and transmitter. Maximum use would be made of existing objects around the target, for example, a rock or piece of wood. This object would be covertly filmed at night time using infrared film and an exact replica would be fabricated in a workshop. The camera would be fitted into the ‘model’ and covertly infiltrated into the target area.30 If an agent or surveillance operation revealed the location of a ‘hide’ containing bomb-making equipment, the security forces had a number of options open to them. An overt search operation could be quickly mounted in order to capture the material concealed within the cache although it carried the risk that an agent might be compromised. Alternatively, improvised munitions within the hide could be fitted with a transmitter to allow the operators to track any movement should the bomb be removed from its hiding place. Explosive devices could also be rendered inoperative, for example, by removing a length of detonating cord and replacing it with an ‘inert’ variety. This was a very difficult and timeconsuming task for any operator. If ‘hide’ camouflage had to be disturbed in order to expose its contents, infra-red photography would be used to record all stages of the operation in a bid to ensure that everything was replaced exactly as it had been found. Just as HUMINT had its limitations, no technology is foolproof. Batteries could fail or simple human error might compromise an operation. However surveillance operations in Northern Ireland had a devastating effect on the PIRA’s ability to mount operations. PIRA members became increasingly paranoid and could never afford to drop their guard. If any member of a PIRA bombing team were thought to be under surveillance, an operation would often be cancelled at the last minute.31 While surveillance teams were deployed into over-watch positions in close proximity to hide locations, they were also despatched to likely IED firing points in order to capture the terrorist as he was about to ‘press the button’. In some cases unattended ground sensors (UGS) would be hidden in the vicinity of the

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firing point to provide early warning of movement. All units would have been warned to avoid the area and an arrest would hopefully be made. In certain foreign counter-bomber operations, the security forces would often attempt to make an arrest as soon as a piece of intelligence became available often resulting in the arrest of a bomb-layer and not the bomb-maker. The British security forces, however, realised that it was necessary to take a different approach if the key players were to be apprehended.32 Imagery intelligence (IMINT) has played an equally vital role in combating or reducing the threat of terrorism in Northern Ireland. In 1973 a Reconnaissance Intelligence Centre (RIC) was established at RAF Aldergrove with a remit to provide members of the Security Forces with imagery derived intelligence and geographic products to support the planning and execution of tactical operations. A number of collection assets were made available to the unit including the Canberra, Beaver, Gazelle, Wessex and Puma helicopters into which were fitted a wide variety of specialist camera systems, each one capable of producing high-resolution aerial photographs hundreds of feet up in the air. In relation to the counter-IED campaign the services of the RIC were invaluable. When a possible IED or weapons hide was discovered by patrolling troops, reported by an anonymous member of the public or revealed by an intelligence source, the RIC would often over-fly the area in order to identify any threat to the security forces. A photographic interpreter (PI), with an extensive knowledge of terrorist modus operandi, having analysed the photography, would then provide the Royal Engineers Search Advisor (RESA) or ATO with a series of annotated prints that would facilitate the operational planning process. The PI would often identify a patch of disturbed ground or scarring where a command-wire had been buried or simply the location of a culvert that might contain a beer keg packed with homemade explosives. The work of the PI generally meant that the security forces were able to reduce the time spent on the ground and therefore the length of time that they would be exposed to the terrorist threat. Many ‘threat’ indicators were only clearly visible from the air, for example, a command-wire buried underneath a gravel path. The PIRA, well aware that the security forces had the capability to take photographs from the air, would often take every precaution to defeat such counter-measures by taking great care when selecting hide locations or a bomb ‘contact point’. By the 1990s, the RIC in Northern Ireland had become a world leader in terms of providing IMINT support to counter-bomber operations. Improvised explosive device disposal (IEDD) In May 1970, the first bomb disposal section was deployed to Northern Ireland for a six-month tour of duty. It consisted of one Captain, a Sergeant and a number of support staff. By 1977, multiple Explosive Ordnance Explosive (EOD) teams were co-located with 39, 8 and 3 Brigade. The 39 Brigade had five teams, four were based in Belfast city and the fifth was billeted in Lisburn to cover rural Brigade areas. EOD teams in 8 Brigade were located in Londonderry

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and Magherafelt. Teams in Bessbrook, Armagh and Omagh provided 3 Brigade EOD cover. Unfortunately the PIRA had a good understanding of EOD team locations and would attempt to work out response times from the security force base to the bomb location. Having done so, they would set their time-delay firing switches accordingly in order to give the ATO the least amount of time to deal with the device. Having confirmed the presence of a possible IED, it was the job of the ATO to disrupt, or render the device safe. By the end of 1971 the terrorist, no doubt having studied the security force response to a bomb threat, began to deliberately target the ATO. Improvised bombs no longer consisted of simple timedelay mechanisms. They now began to incorporate multiple ‘anti-handling’ switches in an attempt to kill the ATO or frustrate disruption attempts. The death of a bomb disposal operator who had been attempting to deal with one such device,33 led to the assembly of the first remote vehicle, or ‘little willie’ as it was known. This was to be the forerunner of the modern day ‘wheelbarrow revolution’, the latest generation remote vehicle. With the advent of remote vehicles, came remote IEDD weapon systems or ‘disruptors’ that could be hand-carried to the suspect device or mounted on the tracked robot and fired remotely. In simple terms a disrupter consisted of a metal barrel filled with water. A plastic ‘piston’ was inserted between a blank cartridge and the water. The barrel was then carefully aimed at the suspect device and fired electrically. The water propelled at a high velocity from the end of the barrel tore apart or disrupted thin walled IEDs such as those contained within a holdall or briefcase. The aim being to break the bomb’s electrical circuit before a power-source had sufficient time to send a voltage to an electric detonator. When the PIRA began to use hard-cased containers, such as beer kegs or steel dustbins for their bombs, defence scientists had to work out a method of cutting them open remotely. The ‘flatsword’ or ‘EOD projector’ and later ‘miniflatsword’ were the result of this development work. Flatsword consisted of a piece of sheet steel, much like a guillotine, mounted in a frame. The ‘blade’ would be fired at the IED casing using a small amount of plastic explosive and it would cut the barrel or dustbin in two. The car bomb initially created huge problems for the IEDD operator. Before the advent of remote vehicles the operator would have to make a ‘manual approach’ in order to affix a tow rope or ‘hook and line’ that would allow him to move the vehicle or open a door while maintaining a stand-off. It was impossible for him to predict when the bomb might explode, therefore the risk of death was very high. Early render-safe-procedures (RSP), took many forms, including loading an 84mm Carl Gustav anti-tank rocket launcher with a practice round and firing it at the vehicle. At the time this was seen to be the safest and quickest method of dealing with the threat. Other options included immersing the vehicle in fire-fighting foam in order to quench the explosive fireball, should the bomb detonate. Neither method was particularly practical; an 84mm practice round was not suitable for urban operations and fire-fighting foam tended to fill up surrounding streets and never the reach the car bomb.

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As the ‘war’ continued, defence scientists toiled to develop new tools for defeating the vehicle bomb. A ‘boot banger’ was developed. Also known as a ‘car boot disruptor’, this device consisted of a box packed with sheet explosive or detonating cord. The boot banger would be remotely delivered to the bomb by the wheelbarrow and would be pushed underneath the load-carrying portion of the vehicle. When the charge was fired electrically, it would destroy the load-carrying compartment and at the same time propel any explosive laden container out of the vehicle. Another equally effective method employed by the ATO was known as the ‘candle’, an explosive charge mixed with aluminium powder. The candle would be affixed to a boom on the wheelbarrow, which would then be driven towards the target. A window-breaker would smash one of the windows in the vehicle allowing the robot to drive forward and deposit the charge inside the car. At this point the wheelbarrow operator would reverse away from the vehicle and inform the ATO that the candle was in place. The wheelbarrow operator would then initiate the candle electrically. When the charge functioned it would destroy the vehicle and any IED that had been hidden inside. In the event that the candle did not destroy the bomb’s electrical firing circuit, the bomb would either detonate or be exposed while the security forces were at a safe distance from the vehicle. In the 1990s when the PIRA increasingly deployed large vehicle bombs in vans and lorries often with very short time-delays in order to frustrate disruption attempts, a new attack method was formulated. It became increasingly important to gain access to a vehicle quickly through glass or metal panels in order to emplace the disruption charge. The charge had to be sufficiently powerful to disrupt an IED hidden within a void space in a van or lorry, yet not so powerful that its detonation would cause a considerable amount of collateral damage. Mounted on the wheelbarrow, the rapid access and disruption equipment (RADE) system continues to fulfil all of these requirements today. The contemporary ATO now has a vast array of tools at his or her disposal, with which to defeat an IED. For obvious reasons many of these tools and related techniques must remain classified if they are to continue to protect the operator and ultimately save lives or property. The greatest invention remains the remote vehicle and its ‘on-board’ disruption equipment. Counter-terrorist search (CTS) The key to any counter-bomber campaign is to understand that a variety of measures have to be deployed against the threat. If the security forces were to use one counter-measure in isolation, the campaign would fail. CTS is yet another example of an additional measure that has been used to defeat or disrupt bombing operations. The four main objectives of CTS in Northern Ireland are: to protect potential targets, gain evidence to achieve prosecutions, gain intelligence and to deprive the terrorist of their resources. While the Royal Engineers (RE) undertook high-risk search operations, ‘all-arms’ teams could execute lowrisk operations. All members of the security forces in Northern Ireland were expected to be search-aware.

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High-risk operations were generally mounted in response to a credible bomb threat upon receipt of an intelligence report, following an incident or when carrying out defensive operations in high-threat areas. They were frequently conducted in the rural environment in conjunction with an ATO, and following a RIC overflight. One example of a high-risk operation might involve a derelict building and a bomb warning. The searchers would ultimately be tasked to clear up to and around the possible device in order to allow the ATO to carry out the appropriate EOD action. It was a dangerous and time-consuming task, with the scenario driving the search team commander’s threat appreciation. In a situation where the security forces were deployed in response to a telephone warning it was likely that the terrorist was attempting to draw the troops into a trap or ‘come-on’ scenario. The terrorist would frequently observe security force procedures and modify his tactics accordingly. In one incident, a car was deliberately blown up in the middle of a country road. Troops were deployed to what appeared to be a premature explosion, with debris, including milk churns scattered in a random fashion across the road, one of which was booby-trapped. When mortars were fired by the PIRA or when a bomb was initiated by command-wire, the area around the base-plate or the firing point would occasionally be booby-trapped. It was the job of the RE search team to ensure that these devices were identified before the ATO moved in to deal with the mortar base-plate or firing pack. Using specialist equipment and having been trained to recognise bomb components or evidence of bomb making activity, RE search teams would frequently be tasked to a dwelling house in the urban environment or a farm complex to search for bomb making equipment including chemicals, tools, documentation and other materials. Such operations forced the terrorist to take lengthy precautions to avoid compromise or arrest and also reduced his ability to carry out bomb attacks, with valuable components frequently being recovered. The recovery and subsequent analysis of such items generated a vast amount of intelligence that could be used to mount further operations, develop additional bomb counter-measures and thwart future attacks. RE search teams would also mount defensive search operations in order to protect VIPs when visiting high-profile locations. Buildings would be cordoned off and then thoroughly searched with a variety of equipments and techniques. RE searchers were utilised in many other ways in Northern Ireland in a bid to defeat the bomber. They are too numerous to discuss within this chapter. Patrolling Throughout the ‘troubles’ in Northern Ireland, members of the security forces conducted thousands of patrols. These patrols were often conducted on foot, in vehicles or a combination of the two. Aviation assets were also frequently utilised. Patrolling was an essential means of disrupting the IED threat in Northern Ireland, first by reducing the likelihood of attack. There was a tendency to feel safe inside a building, particularly if it was fortified, however, the very fact that it was a static and overt symbol of security force dominance meant that it

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was often an attractive target for the terrorist. Base protection patrols were carried out by the Army at random intervals to deter the terrorist from planting a homemade bomb, either by breaching perimeter security or by placing a device of sufficient size at the perimeter fence to overcome any stand-off gap between the fence and outer wall of the installation. When the terrorist began to deploy improvised mortar systems against its bases, the Army was forced to respond by carrying out mortar base plate patrols (MBP). The maximum range of the PIRA’s mortar systems was calculated and the most likely base plate locations around the installation were plotted on the map. These areas would then be subjected to intense scrutiny by patrols at irregular intervals in order to deter the terrorist from launching an attack. From an intelligence perspective, patrols were essential. Particularly in the urban environment, foot patrols were used to inspire confidence amongst the local populace and to encourage the flow of information, be it through ‘casual contact’ or a confidential telephone line. Patrols were used to establish a daily ‘pattern of life’ so that abnormal activity, that might be indicative of terrorist attack preparation, could be quickly identified. The terrorist frequently attempted to kill members of the security forces while they were patrolling through staunch Republican estates. If the terrorist thought that he could make good his escape having detonated a bomb, often by radio-control or short command-wire in the urban environment, he would generally continue with his attack preparation. New patrolling methods were quickly devised to counter this threat. One section of soldiers would ‘hard target’ down a street, while maintaining close radio contact with other patrols moving down parallel roads at the same time. If the terrorist attempted to engage the section moving between two or more satellite patrols, there was a good chance that he would be caught. Such patrols were usually conducted on foot, although a mobile patrol in the form of a Quick Reaction Force (QRF) or Air Reaction Force (ARF) would maintain a ‘listening watch’ back in a base location, in case foot patrols were engaged. Mobile or vehicle mounted patrols were often highly vulnerable to IED attack. There was a tendency amongst soldiers to feel safe inside a lightly armoured vehicle and particularly in bad weather, few would want to leave the warm and dry interior. The Improvised anti-armour grenade (IAAG) and PIRA horizontal mortar systems, the MK12 and 16 soon demonstrated that all armoured vehicles could be defeated. The key to preventing such attacks was to use a combination of foot and vehicle mounted patrols in order to deny the terrorist a safe run-back from his firing point or to abandon vehicle patrols all together. This happened in south Armagh, where improvised landmines, fired by command-wire or radio-control, destroyed a large number of armoured vehicles resulting in numerous fatalities.34 As the death toll rose the security forces banned all vehicular movement in that area and became reliant on helicopters. In certain cases even the rubbish from military bases and police stations was removed by helicopter, so serious was the threat. Patrols were regularly used to establish roadblocks or checkpoints. These were primarily designed to deter the terrorist from transporting munitions, to

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capture munitions and to thwart bomb emplacement operations. Vehicle checkpoints (VCPs) were most effective when they were quickly established, therefore affording the security forces the element of surprise. The terrorist, who would often take a secondary route, easily avoided PVCP’s. In addition PVCPs, were subjected to regular attacks. Being static and long-term installations, the terrorist could reconnoitre and plan bombing operations against these locations with ease. The ‘snap’ VCP, however, was designed to be rapidly emplaced on any type of road. Members of the VCP team could be inserted by air, vehicle, or on foot. Equipment often consisted of caltrops, warning triangles, binoculars, basic search equipment, an arms and explosives search (AES) dog and radios. A ‘cut-off’ group would be inserted to the front and rear of the VCP to give advance warning of any suspect vehicle or to defeat the terrorist tactic of using a scout car to warn of security force activity on the road ahead. Such operations thwarted countless bombing operations and often resulted in the capture of munitions, illegal communications equipment and documentation. Target hardening Having examined various measures that were used by the security forces to counter the IED in Northern Ireland the last line of defence, if all others failed, was target hardening. In simple terms the question, ‘What happens if the bomb detonates?’ was frequently applied to the issue of protecting buildings, vehicles and people as the security situation in Northern Ireland worsened. This section will focus on building protection. When troops first arrived in Northern Ireland in1969, accommodation space was in short supply. In most cases the Army simply acquired large industrial buildings for example, north Howard Street mill in Belfast and Bessbrook mill in County Armagh. Such buildings were never designed to withstand explosive blast and fragmentation effects, therefore work had to be carried out to fortify and secure these locations. Even existing RUC stations were not fortified. They consisted of large, old fashioned, brick structures. The security forces in terms of building protection generally adopted a reactive approach. In the earliest days of the ‘troubles’ the threat was limited to small hand thrown blast devices or petrol bombs, therefore security measures that reflected this level of threat were installed. Initially steel shutters were the only protective measures fitted to RUC stations in Northern Ireland. Barbed wire and chain link fences were eventually constructed around such installations in order to provide a secure perimeter and stand off barrier. Unnecessary or vulnerable openings were quickly blocked off with sandbag walls, corrugated iron or breeze blocks, and any remaining glass was taped up to prevent injuries from fragmentation. Building fortifications gradually evolved until the 1980s, when the security forces began to ‘design out’ the IED threat at the planning stages of a new building project. While the IED threat to buildings came in many guises, the vehicle bomb or heavy mortar generally caused the greatest destruction. The primary aim of security measures installed in response to the vehicle bomb was to deter the

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terrorist from driving home his attack in the first place. Therefore vehicles were banned from entering security force installations and commercial areas. Lighting and closed circuit television (CCTV) systems were installed and once again patrols were used to deter the terrorist. In some cases this simply led to displacement and the terrorist would look for a less protected installation or commercial zone to attack. One of the most important defences against a vehicle bomb, should it detonate, was maintaining a ‘stand off’ zone with all blast effects rapidly decreasing as the distance from an explosion increases. Chain link or barbed wire fences, besides maintaining the ‘air gap’ between perimeter and building, were ineffective against a car bomb regardless of size therefore concrete walls that were designed to counter blast and fragmentation effects often replaced them. As bombs grew larger, reinforced concrete blast panels that could be rapidly emplaced replaced concrete walls. In some areas large earth bunds (mounds), were constructed around a sensitive target. These obstacles could be produced quickly by skilled plant operator and were less expensive then reinforced concrete panels. When covered with grass and other foliage they were also less obtrusive and unsightly, not a major consideration at the time but certainly valid in some areas today. In order to ensure that a vehicle bomb did not breach a ‘stand off’ zone, access controls became very stringent. However, like any security measure they could be defeated as illustrated by the multiple car bomb attack in Thiepval Barracks, Lisburn in 1996.35 The PIRA, as previously discussed, deployed the ‘proxy’ vehicle bomb against security force buildings on numerous occasions and it was a very difficult method of attack to counter. Earthworks, where feasible, were initially produced to suppress the blast effects of a detonating bomb. Often known as ‘critpits’, this was simply a hole in the ground, lined with sandbags, into which the proxy driver would be directed. If the bomb exploded the effects would be contained within the pit. As security force locations became more permanent, huge reinforced concrete containment walls were constructed resembling a rectangular open-ended box in close proximity to the installation access point. If a proxy bomb was detected the driver would be guided into the box and released from the vehicle. It was not always practical to construct pits and boxes, therefore the access point was often strengthened and protective shelters for gate personnel would be constructed. Like most counter-measures against the IED threat, the key to success revolved around having a pre-planned and wellrehearsed course of action should the attack take place. The mortar threat was a major concern to the security forces. Obviously the perimeter stand-off zone of a patrol base or police station could be easily breached as a mortar round was clearly unaffected by access controls. In the early years of the ‘troubles’ most PIRA mortars carried a fairly small explosive payload, and the security force response was to place chain link fencing all around a building, particularly above the roof, one of the most vulnerable areas of a building. The idea was that the mortar would be fired, then hit the chain link fencing with the result that the mortar would detonate above the roof and therefore not penetrate the skin of the building. The chain link often ‘snagged’ the

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mortar arming system, an impeller mounted in the nose therefore the mortar round would not be armed and could not explode. The introduction of the MK 8 and particularly the MK10 mortar in 1981 rendered these defences obsolete. The MK10 was capable of destroying a load bearing brickwork building. Shortly after the first attack, a series of trials carried out by the Security Forces led to the design of new protective measures. RUC stations were then subjected to a rapid upgrading programme. More effective reinforced blast panels, steel roofs and strengthened foundations were constructed. The MK 15 mortar, first deployed by the PIRA in 1992 containing ANS, was once again capable of breaching all defences. In this instance, where full protection was desired, buildings had to be specially constructed. These new, windowless constructions required special mechanical ventilating, fire fighting and air conditioning systems. They were extremely expensive to build and very heavy. Ultimately, the best precaution against mortar attack was intelligence and the denial of firing points or base plate locations.

Conclusion When conducting counter-bomber operations it would be desirable to identify and apprehend the leader or ‘driving force’ behind the problem in the first place. In reality however, it can be extremely difficult to locate these ‘key players’ who may not even be in the same country. The current Bin Laden situation is but one example. If the counter-bomber campaign is to succeed the bomb-maker, the individual with the relevant skills to design and build firing switches and manufacture homemade explosives, must be robustly targeted. In the early years in Northern Ireland it was often the bomb-layer that was caught and not the bombmaker. While the apprehension of a bomb-layer satisfied the media, it did not have a long-term impact on the PIRA’s ability to mount operations. In Iraq, bomb-layers have frequently been apprehended however the bomb-maker has proven to be a more elusive quarry. Recent operations in Fallujah have uncovered, and therefore disrupted, an extensive IED manufacturing capability.36 Time will tell if this has seriously degraded the overall insurgent bombing campaign. The terrorist may well attempt to relocate his engineering operations into border areas or other countries in order to frustrate similar operations in the future. If the IED poses the greatest threat to life and stability within a particular region, all members of the security forces within that location must be prepared to work towards the goal of threat reduction and elimination. They can only do that if they have an awareness of what the threat consists of. The HUMINT team, for example, is an incredibly effective counter-bomber tool. If, however, none of the members of that team have attended an IED component-part or threat briefing they will not be effective. Every member of a foot patrol must be able to recognise signs of IED production and emplacement. Surveillance operatives must understand terrorist modus operandi and the local policeman must know who to contact if he receives information regarding the manufacture or emplacement of homemade bombs. One discipline, working in isolation, will

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not defeat the bomber. It has to be a combined effort if it is to be successful. The information acquired by these sources has to be handled by an IED threat ‘focal point’ and not by multiple agencies if it is to be analysed, converted into intelligence and disseminated in a timely fashion to those who need it most. There is a tendency to over-classify such documentation rendering it worthless – the best intelligence product is useless if it is so highly classified that nobody can read it. Certainly in Iraq, bomb-making information was widely disseminated on compact disc by the insurgent.37 Such information should be made available to the security forces in order to raise awareness levels and to facilitate the rapid development of counter-measures. The security forces, within their relevant area of operations (AOR) must attempt to disrupt the terrorist logistic network. Explosives and other bombmaking paraphernalia must be intercepted before it can fall into the hands of the bomb-maker. When that equipment is discovered it must be scrutinised and catalogued by a Technical Intelligence (TECHINT) team in order to identify its origin and final destination. Once the point of origin is known, the security forces can attempt to shutdown that procurement avenue. The technical analysis of captured terrorist material should enable the security forces to identify new methods of IED attack or future intent. Steps can then be taken to reduce or eliminate the threat by developing new procedures or equipment and by disseminating information to the widest possible audience. Ideally the ‘collection’ team should operate from a centralised location that is known, by all members of the security forces, to be the ‘focal’ point for IED TECHINT. Problems and conflict situations may arise where more than one agency is involved with the collection of technical IED intelligence. Intelligence is sometimes jealously guarded by those who wish to empire build or produce glossy reports that find their way to those higher up the command chain and serve no immediate purpose in the combat zone. As vehicles and buildings become more fortified, the terrorist will either turn to a softer target or will build in many cases a larger bomb. As the security forces discovered in Northern Ireland with the MK 15 mortar and the large VBIED, there is a limit to how much protection can be built into a vehicle or structure and therefore other measures have to be used to reduce the threat. In Iraq the insurgent has used conventional air-dropped bombs packed into a culvert that can destroy any armoured vehicle in that AOR. As the security forces in Iraq begin to jam the RCIED more effectively, the terrorist will simply devise new methods of attack or even revert to low-tech and old-fashioned emplacement methods. The IEDD team, when dealing with such devices must ensure that deception is used to confuse the terrorist, who may be observing procedures in order to devise new methods of attack. For more than 30 years, thousands of lessons were learnt, often the hard way, by the security forces combating terrorism in Northern Ireland. As one chapter in history appears to be drawing to a close, the utility of using lessons learnt in Northern Ireland must be recognised by all those engaged in the global fight against terrorism.

Terrorist weapons and technology

Appendix Glossary of abbreviations AES ANAL ANNIE ANS AOR ARF ATO CCTV CTS CWIED ECM EO EOD FRU HME HUMINT IAAG IED IEDD IMINT MBP MK MRF PI PIRA PVCP QRF RADE RCIED RE RESA RIC RUC Rx SAS SOCO TECHINT TPU Tx UGS UVBT

arms and explosives search ammonium nitrate and aluminium ammonium nitrate and nitrobenzene ammonium nitrate and augar area of responsibility Air Reaction Force Ammunition Technical Officer closed circuit television counter-terrorist search command-wire improvised explosive device electronic counter-measures explosives officer explosive ordnance disposal Force Research Unit homemade explosive human intelligence improvised anti-armour grenade improvised explosive device improvised explosive device disposal imagery intelligence mortar base-plate patrol mark Mobile Reconnaissance Force photographic interpreter Provisional Irish Republican Army permanent vehicle checkpoint Quick Reaction Force rapid access and disruption equipment radio-controlled improvised explosive device Royal Engineer Royal Engineer search advisor Reconnaissance Intelligence Centre Royal Ulster Constabulary receiver Special Air Service Scenes of Crime Officer technical intelligence Time and Power Unit transmitter unattended ground sensor under vehicle booby-trap

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VBIED VCP

vehicle bourne improvised explosive device vehicle checkpoint

Notes * Any opinions, findings, conclusions or recommendations expressed in this chapter are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of any third party. 1 Sunday Times Insight Team (1972) Ulster (Harmondsworth: Penguin), pp. 176–197. 2 A. Alderson, J. Adams and L. Clarke, ‘Our losing fight’, Sunday Times, 2 May 1993. 3 B. O’Brian (1993) The Long War. The IRA and Sinn Féin: 1985 to Today (Dublin: The O’Brian Press Ltd) p. 158. 4 C. Ryder (2000) The RUC. 1922–2000: A Force Under Fire (London: Arrow Books Ltd), p. 169. 5 E. Maloney (2002) A Secret History of the IRA (London: Penguin Books), p. 158. 6 D. Hamill (1986) Pig in the Middle. The Army in Northern Ireland: 1969–1984 (London: Methuen), p. 241. 7 S. Boyne, ‘Uncovering the Irish Republican Army’, Janes Intelligence Review 8:8, pp. 343–346. 8 B. Cashinella, ‘Gelignite marks may curb IRA’, The Times (London), 12 June 1972, p. 2. 9 H. Stanhope, ‘The will to blow the lid off Ulster still remains strong’, The Times, 8 November 1974, p. 16. 10 R. Fisk, ‘Troops kill Belfast workman by mistake’, The Times, 6 December 1972, p. 1. 11 See FCO 87/135 National Archives, London. 12 T. Geraghty (2000) The Irish War (London: HarperCollins Publishers), p. 191. 13 D. Barzilay (1978) The British Army in Ulster (Vol. 3) (Belfast: Century Books), p. 41. 14 S. Tendler and R. Ford, ‘Why the IRA’s 12 mortar bombs failed to explode’, The Times, 14 March 1994, p. 3. 15 P. Gurney (1993) Braver Men Walk Away (London: HarperCollins Publishers), pp. 1–8. 16 T. Geraghty (2000) The Irish War (London: HarperCollins Publishers), p. 194. 17 See Chronology 1993, Center for Irish Studies, University Rennes 2, France, www.uhb.fr/langues/cei/chron93.htm, 15 January 2005. 18 Our correspondent, ‘The New York bomb’, The Times, 21 September 1921, p. 10. 19 S. MacStiofáin (1975) Memoirs of a Revolutionary (London: Gordon Cremones), p. 243. 20 L. Phelps (ed.) (1982) A History of the Royal Army Ordnance Corps 1945–1982 (Dorking: Trustees of the Royal Army Ordnance Corps), pp. 410–431. 21 Ibid. 22 R. Fisk, ‘IRA proxy bombs blast Belfast’, The Times (London), 26 July 1974, p. 1. 23 J. Dettmer and E. Gorman, ‘Seven dead in IRA human bomb attacks’, The Times, 25 October 1990. 24 C. Ryder (2000) The RUC: 1922–2000: A Force Under Fire (London: Arrow Books Ltd), p. 427. 25 N. Darbyshire and N. Bunyan, ‘Lorry packed with explosives seized at port after ferry trip’, Daily Telegraph, 13 July 1994, p. 1. 26 P. Rogers (2000) ‘Political violence and economic targeting: aspects of Provisional IRA Strategy 1992–97’, Civil Wars, 3–4, p. 11. 27 M. Evans, ‘Vital piece of intelligence led to cache of explosives’, The Times, 24 September 1996, p. 1. 28 P. Taylor (2002) Brits: The War Against the IRA (London: Bloomsbury Publishing Plc), p. 143.

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Ibid., p. 145. Ibid., p. 301. M. Dillon (1996) The Dirty War (New York: Routledge), p. 366. P. Taylor (2002) Brits: The War Against the IRA (London: Bloomsbury), p. 247. C. Walker, ‘Army captain killed by gelignite bomb’, The Times, 10 September 1971, p. 1. See D. McKittrick, S. Kelters, B. Feeney and C. Thornton (1999) Lost Lives (Edinburgh: Mainstream Publishing), p. 347. L. Clarke and H. McDonald, ‘Blown away’, Sunday Times, 13 October 1996, p. 1. See Operation Al Fajr Rollup, MNC-I Exploitation Team, http://ankara.usembassy. gov/Operation%20Al%20Fajr%20Rollup_25%20Nov.ppt, 15 January 2005. L. Hilsum, ‘Iraq now has the keys, but do they work?’, New Statesman, 5 July 2004.

7

Organised crime and racketeering in Northern Ireland Chris Ryder

Sir Hugh Orde, the Chief Constable of the Police Service of Northern Ireland, told the Northern Ireland Affairs Committee of the House of Commons in mid2006 that Northern Ireland is not ‘the Wild West’ of the United Kingdom. Overall crime is down by 17 per cent over the last two years, he said, and, in his professional judgment, Northern Ireland is still a safe place to be. Whatever the statistical accuracy of his claim and the validity of his expert conclusion, the reality is that few people believe him and the global figure he quotes obscures some well-founded and uncomfortable facts. On all sides there is a tangible fear of crime, a vociferous demand for more highly visible reassurance policing and a perception that the police have lost their grip and are both seriously under-resourced and under-strength. These feelings are nowhere more strongly held than within the business community which feels that organised crime is rampant and that they are under siege from the multi-faceted criminal activities of what has been described to the same group of MP’s as ‘twin protestant and Catholic mafias’. Mrs Val Smith, manager of Bondelivery Northern Ireland, who gave evidence to their ongoing investigation into the scale and remedies for organised crime, stated: I can honestly say in the last few years the situation in Northern Ireland is worse than it has ever been. My company has had more incidents against our vehicles and against our premises in the last three years than in the 30 years previously. Glyn Roberts, Parliamentary Officer for the Federation of Small Businesses, said that ‘two out of every three business owners were the victims of crime’ and Northern Ireland itself is among the top four regions in the country for the highest level of business crime. More worryingly, for the government and law enforcement agencies, a Federation survey showed that up to 36 per cent of all businesses believed they would not achieve anything by reporting incidents to the authorities. The Northern Ireland Director of the Council for British Industry, Nigel Smyth, said: ‘From a business perspective we are seen to be coming well down the list rather than right at the fore.’

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The police readily admit, nobody can precisely calculate just how lucrative the varied rackets are especially as many of the most ruthless practitioners have long since laundered their ill-gotten gains and invested them in legitimate business concerns. As the chief constable said: ‘Over 30 years people have become very good at making illegitimate money legitimate.’ Nevertheless the authorities firmly believe that a concerted effort by the various law enforcement agencies is impacting on the degree of organised crime and that further pressure and legislative change will ultimately bring it under control. ‘Our considered view is that this is a winnable battle against organised crime’, Orde told the MPs. But if the battle is to be won, the PSNI’s own figures show that much more effort remains to be invested not only in combating the gangsters but also in convincing the entire community that Northern Ireland is not subject to ‘gang rule’ and indeed not the ‘Wild West’ of the United Kingdom. One of the most lucrative rackets, which is as profitable for the criminals as it is costly for the public purse, is fuel smuggling. It is accepted as fact that a majority of the 610 filling stations in Northern Ireland sell at least some percentage of illegitimate or illegal fuel. Informed industry estimates point to public revenue losses spiralling from £140 million in 1998 to £380 million in 2000 to indicate the scale of the problem. This loss of some 50 per cent represents an astonishing proportion of the £750 million overall revenue the government should potentially be getting from the tax imposed on various fuel oils. Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs say the scale of this loss has now been cut back significantly from the 40 per cent level that it says prevailed just four years ago. It attributes this success to an increase in the number of officers engaged in tackling fuel oil fraud from 25 to more than 160, the seizure of over 8 million litres of processed fuel, the impounding of 3,473 vehicles, the shut down of some 77 illegal processing plants and the disruption of more than 12 major fuel laundering gangs. Nevertheless, the illegal trade continues and, by their estimates, fuel fraud and entirely legitimate cross-border filling up, to take advantage of the currency and price differential, the UK Exchequer is still losing £245 million a year, a third of its potential take. There is a serious collateral problem. Highly inflammable illegal fuel is being moved in both conventional tanker vehicles, sometimes liveried to look like the vehicles used by the major legal suppliers, and, even more dangerously, in other lorries, with tanks precariously balanced inside shipping containers or strapped onto flat bed lorries. Some of this fuel is being smuggled by ship to mainland Britain and MP’s have been told of the danger arising from smuggling cheap fuel in trailers to the British mainland. ‘At some stage there is an accident going to happen; there is the possibility of one of these ferries going to the bottom of the Irish Sea’, warned Mrs Smith. In a bid to prevent such a disaster and cleanup the fuel oils trade, the government has promised a new licensing regime will soon be announced. Police statistics show that armed robbery, another money-spinning enterprise for the racketeers, most of whom have past or present paramilitary affiliations, is

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most definitely on the increase. In 2005–2006 there were 1,744 such incidents, an increase of 17.3 per cent on the previous year. The precise proceeds are rarely disclosed and, of course, not all are on the record scale of the £26.5 million removed from the vaults of the Northern Bank in Belfast in December 2004. However, an uncomfortably large proportion are high value robberies. At one point in recent years, the cash transit company, Securicor, was suffering one major incident a week. Another high-value goods haulier (that preferred not to be named) reported that while the number of hijackings and hold-ups they were experiencing had been cut from just under a 100 a year in 1990s to about 60 presently, they attributed the fall as much to their own more stringent security measures, costing them ‘phenomenal amounts of money’, as to increased police action. The robbers, with their terrorist backgrounds, are so forensically aware, the police are only clearing about one in six of these crimes which are usually characterised by both violence and the threat of it. One of the most difficult tactics to counter is the so-called ‘tiger kidnap’ where the vulnerable families of such as bank officials are held hostage while the employee is forced to use his access to premises to facilitate the theft. In one typical incident, an employee of a haulage company was forced to accompany the robbers to his firm’s depot while the members of his immediate family were held hostage. The gang then took away a trailer containing over £2.5 million worth of cigarettes. ‘Not one case, not one packet has been recovered and not one person has been apprehended’, according to the owner of the company concerned (again preferring not to be identified). In another similar incident, the security escort for another load of cigarettes was stabbed in the chest with a screw driver and guns were put to the head of the two people in the vehicle. They were made to drive the vehicle to an area where it was unloaded and the goods were taken away. ‘The repercussions of that are that I now have three people off sick – long terms sick – because of their experience’, the owner of that business told the Northern Ireland MPs. The stretch of the main Belfast-Dublin road, where it crosses the border, is regarded as such a vulnerable black spot for piracy that cigarettes bound for the Irish Republic from Northern Ireland are now shipped to Liverpool and then back across the Irish Sea. Straightforward extortion against the threat of violence is another burden imposed by the racketeers. Research by the Federation of Small Businesses indicates that ‘illegal donations’, a euphemism for protection money, are a hidden cost of doing business for some 4,000 companies. No enterprise, however modest, is safe from the paramilitary predators. Even ice-cream vans plying their trade in Loyalist housing estates have been targeted. A barber, who runs a shop with two employees, said: ‘My windows and personal safety are worth a lot more than £100 a year’. Sometimes extortion is practiced through so-called ‘security firms’, which are, in reality shop fronts controlled by the gangsters. The licensing system already in force has failed to completely clean up this sector and tougher measures are promised soon by the government. Nigel Smyth, the Northern Ireland Director of the Confederation of British Industry, told MPs: ‘There are a lot of very small family owned retailers, corner

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shops, who are being targeted for £100 or £200. If you look at construction sites, building sites, you are looking at sums of £10,000 to £30,000.’ The construction industry is, in fact, one of the major victims of organised crime. According to the CBI, ‘both sides are involved, perhaps more subtly on the Republican side but certainly pretty blatant on the Loyalist side’. The big national building firms usually refuse to pay and have the financial muscle to withstand any subsequent sabotage so the prime victims of this activity are instead the weaker small firms and sub-contractors. Their reluctance to take on work in difficult areas because of these pressures is now so marked that in some economically deprived areas, paramilitary muscle has been applied to protect them from criminals and enable vital regeneration and community projects to go ahead. Counterfeiting goods like cigarettes, alcohol and perfume and the theft of intellectual property, in the form of music and film DVDs, is yet another financially fruitful pasture for the racketeers and sales are booming despite the fact that the products concerned are far from top quality. With a standard pack of 20 cigarettes currently costing well over £5, there is a hefty black market for ‘cheapies’, at just over half the price, all too ready to be satisfied by illegal imports from China and other countries where manufacturing standards and branding controls are low or even non-existent. Paul Gerrard, Deputy Head of Enforcement and Compliance Operations for the Revenue and Customs, said: [People] think they are buying genuine cigarettes because they look like genuine cigarettes. It is only when they smoke them that they realise that they taste particularly unpleasant. They contain more arsenic, more cadmium and more lead; they have more tar and produce more carbon monoxide. The surging scale of the problem can be gauged from the astonishing number of seizures. In the three years since 2002–2003, at least one billion cigarettes bound for smokers in Northern Ireland have been intercepted. Although final figures are not yet available for the fiscal year 2005/06, helped by three seizures alone totalling 24 million cigarettes, the Revenue and Customs say the final figure will well exceed that of the previous two years. Despite these successes, the black market in cheap cigarettes continues to flourish at an unverifiable cost to the Exchequer although the Revenue and Customs assess that only one-sixth of tobacco duty throughout the entire UK is forfeit to illegal cigarette and tobacco trading. With the duty on just 15 million cigarettes amounting to some £3.5 million, there can be no doubt that the actual financial loss to the public purse is a considerable one and the consequent profit accrued by the crime barons a lavish one. In line with the dubious quality of illegal cigarettes, counterfeit alcohol is also regularly adulterated with white spirits. According to the legitimate licensed trade, ersatz vodka, the most in demand beverage, is being produced ‘in

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alarming quantities’. Efforts by one of the biggest legitimate companies, Diageo, who manufacture conventional brands like Smirnoff, to frustrate the bootleggers are short-lived however with labelling changes and even re-designed bottles being quickly replicated. The counterfeiters are thought to collect genuine bottles from the skips outside licensed premises which are then both refilled and copied. Counterfeit designer perfumes, another money-spinning product, are equally successfully packaged to match the originals but again the quality is suspect, with urine a common ingredient. The same poor quality reproduction standards apply to the thousands of music and film discs which are pirated on banks of copiers, often established in rented lock-up garages or small business units. Recently, in a single month, the police seized almost 13,000 films, CDs and computer games valued at around £213,000. Police also recovered imitation designer clothing, computer equipment and fake top-range watches. However profitable all the activities already outlined, the proceeds are miniscule when compared with the margins achieved in the trafficking of drugs. Before the onset of the peace process in 1994, the drugs problem in Northern Ireland was fairly modest and nothing like as bad as that in mainland Britain or the Republic of Ireland. But as the politically motivated violence subsided, the drugs trade rapidly expanded, with former terrorists and their organisations in the forefront. Now, some 15 years on, the wealth-flaunting activities of several drug barons and the violent deaths of several notorious individuals, all with paramilitary connections, are testament to the escalation of the trade and the collateral human misery it causes. The authorities judge that much of the drugs trafficking is either directly controlled by paramilitary groups, especially on the Loyalist side, or franchised to criminal operators, who pay a percentage of their take for ‘protection’. Cannabis and Ecstasy remain the most widely used drugs – accounting for 90 per cent of the market – but there is growing use of cocaine as evidenced by a number of significant seizures. On the afternoon of 13 May 2004, police officers stopped a van close to the Broadway roundabout on the M1 motorway in Belfast. A hydraulic press, scales and bags were recovered from the vehicle as well as a cocaine consignment with a street value of £1.2 million. The same year an unprecedented 15 kilos of the drug were seized with an estimated street value of almost £10 million. More recently, PSNI’s Drugs Squad stopped a vehicle in Belfast and subsequently recovered cocaine with an estimated value of up to £80,000. In a second incident again in the city, officers searched a house from where they recovered cocaine with an estimated value of £40,000. All of these rackets are underpinned by a wide-ranging distributive mechanism ultimately controlled by, what the Revenue and Customs describe as, ‘very large, complicated and very organised networks of criminals and smugglers’. They sometimes trade through legitimate businesses, who are not always aware of the origin of the goods they supply, but more often in street markets, car boot sales, drinking and social clubs and through individuals in workplace and family

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circles who are well known for being able to acquire items ‘at the right price’. Some taxi firms are also involved in the illegitimate drinks trade with drivers either carrying stock around in the boot or offering a 24-hour a day ‘Dial-adrink’ service. Equally sophisticated laundering mechanisms have been set up to convert the proceeds of all these illegal operations into clean cash that can be used for other lucrative dealings. Despite a legal requirement for financial institutions, accountants, solicitors and estate agents to formally notify suspicious transactions and a clampdown on cash payment for items like cars and property, the criminals continue to flourish by ever more inventively subverting legitimate channels for their own ends. Casinos and on-course bookmaking have become the latest conduits for this activity. Lax controls on charitable fundraising (mainland British charity controls do not extend to Northern Ireland) have, for instance, led to abuses. There is widespread anxiety shared by the government and business leaders that sham charities have been set up to facilitate the activities of paramilitary groups by making possible the illicit use of money and the diversion of funds obtained from crime. Moves are at last underway to establish a Charity Commission for Northern Ireland with a strong and visible regulatory framework to increase public confidence in the estimated 9,000 voluntary and community organisations, twothirds of them at least partly funded by government, and reduce opportunities for abuse by criminal elements. Wilfred Mitchell Chairman of the Federation of Small Businesses, says that as organised crime appears to be spreading throughout Northern Ireland ‘time is of the essence in tackling this issue before it becomes rooted in future generations’. It may be too late for the characteristics of this plague, which can be traced back to the very early days of the ‘troubles’ in the 1970s, have now become so deeply embedded in Northern Ireland society. Few could then have foreseen that the apparently altruistic effort in the 1970s to put former London taxis on the streets to provide a service when public transport was withdrawn because of disturbances would stimulate a new genre of a terrorist-led community service and employment opportunity. Terrorists soon dominated these new ‘black taxi’ services and used them to provide both a community service and source of revenue. Again, people shrieked with laughter when they heard that a man with heavy IRA connections, boarded up the windows shattered by IRA bombs and that the glass was ultimately replaced by a glazier who was also one of the founding members of the Loyalist UDA. But the destructiveness of the early troubles spawned several such ‘hardboard millionaires’ and provided the bedrock for a long era of gang rule in Belfast and an alternative criminal driven economy. The process was helped, if not encouraged, by big business itself. It was not long before the banks both paid protection money themselves and ordered their managers to take account of the need for their customers to pay it when appraising loan requests. The breweries facilitated the growth of the illegal drinking

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clubs by providing the taps and pumps necessary to dispense draught beer from kegs. In time they also provided interest free loans and discount schemes to enable the clubs to improve their original very basic accommodation. In quick time the number of unregulated clubs reached 600 and many became fountains of cash and provided an additional bonus as a means to launder money raised from other dubious sources such as armed robbery and extortion. Even more cash was squeezed out of them by the paramilitary groups who put in gaming machines, programmed to pay out minimal winnings. Soon, companies controlled by the paramilitaries were installing similarly loaded machines in pubs, taxi office, small shops and the like as a more gentle way of raising ‘protection money’. Other devices to buy protection included companies being required to pay wages for ‘ghost employees’, who were thus able to become full-time terrorists, or to have lorry loads of goods ‘hijacked’ by appointment. This was a popular method in the drinks trade for the load could be processed through one or more of the drinking clubs and turned into cash. The breweries were not so pleased, however, when they discovered that the bottles and crates, on which a deposit was payable, were being recycled back through legitimate accounts to gain a credit. They stung again when they learned that the aluminium beer kegs, on which no deposit was payable, were being smelted for their scrap metal value at a yard in sight of the window of the managing director of one of the firms concerned. Thus from the outset of the ‘troubles’, the boundary line between criminality and the purity of the paramilitary cause, Republican and Loyalist, was increasingly blurred. Much of the money raising activity was diverted from the cause into individual pockets. I well remember, at an early meeting with the UDA Brigadier, Tommy Herron, being struck by the multiplicity of cheque books he had, given that most recently he had been the night porter in a south Belfast hotel. Around the same time, when a prominent IRA activist from the IRA heartland in Andersonstown was lodged in the Maze Prison, his reputation for personal moneymaking enterprises caused his comrades to chant ‘Who wants to be a millionaire?’ upon his arrival in the compound. Over the years, as the security forces wrestled with the consequences of direct terrorist violence, the terrorist organisations increasingly legitimised their money-making activities to the point where Belfast could accurately be described as the ‘Chicago of the Eighties’. Every Mafia type racket, with the exception of vice, had by then been copied or improved upon and new methods of criminality developed. Hard on the heels of the ‘proxy bomb’ came the ‘tiger kidnap’ where innocent partners, family members or workmates, were held hostage to ensure an attack took place or a robbery was successful. Successive Secretaries of State and their advisers wrung their hands as the gang-rule consolidated and although periodic initiatives were both promised and implemented they were so half-hearted and under-resourced they hardly dented the ever more lucrative operations of the racketeers. In time they expanded to include vice and brothels and other prostitution operations, operated by paramil-

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itary front men. Today, they still flourish exploiting young women, trafficked from Eastern Europe and the Third World in a modern version of the slave trade. Towards the end of the 1980s, faced with a wall of silence when it came to gathering evidence, the authorities turned to what they called ‘the Al Capone approach’. That notorious godfather had finally been snared by flaws in his income tax returns but while some inroads into the gangster economy were made and some inhibiting legislation was introduced, the results were but a mere pinprick. With the drinking clubs having grown larger and continually more profitable, they were pragmatically brought within the official licensing structures in the late 1990s and subjected to stringent accountancy and management requirements in a bid to control them. This has worked well and, although there is still strong paramilitary influence in the way that many of the registered licensed clubs are run, they now pay taxes and are subject to annual and unannounced police spot checks to ensure their compliance. At the same time, however, the government itself was sending mixed messages about the efficacy of dealing with the reality of terrorist inspired extortion. With the police and other agencies, supposedly struggling to combat the problem, it turned out the Inland Revenue was allowing victim companies to show protection money payments as a tax deductible expense! Over more recent years, such damaging ambiguity has been removed. Cleaning up organised crime and racketeering is a prime law enforcement objective with co-ordinated resources to match. Orde says that currently Republican crime is more organised and more sophisticated than Loyalist crime and the front-line foot-soldiers in the battle to combat them remain the 1,200 strong PSNI detective force. Three years ago their order of battle was restructured under the command of a dedicated Assistant Chief Constable with centralised access to all intelligence, criminal and national security, so that it could be fully assessed and acted on. The police effort is dovetailed into that of the Organised Crime Task Force, a forum, created in September 2000, where government, law enforcement and a wide range of other agencies set strategic priorities and take a co-ordinated approach to tackling every manifestation of organised crime. The participants are the Police Service of Northern Ireland, HM Revenue and Customs, the National Criminal Intelligence Service, the Home Office, the Northern Ireland Office, the Assets Recovery Agency and all the Government Departments. More recently, the new national, FBI-style Serious and Organised Crime Agency has come into existence as the teeth-arm of this offensive. They are backed up by the courts and Orde has welcomed as a vital part of the strategy the fact that the average sentence for extortion in Northern Ireland has already increased from 36 months to seven to eight years and the Lord Chief Justice’s most recent guidelines which point to a sentence of between ten and 14 years. This tough new co-ordinated approach is steadily beginning to bite. A key element is to make sure crime doesn’t pay and that responsibility was assigned

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to a new Assets Recovery Agency which, since becoming operational in 2003, has frozen assets worth some £25 million which will eventually join £1.6 million already recovered. Progress was slower than expected because the Agency is only allowed to follow up cases referred to it, principally by the police, social security and tax authorities, rather than mount pro-active investigations itself. There were also delays because of legal challenges to the recovery process but, on the back of a number of key test cases, with the snowball expected to roll ever more productively in 2007, there came a surprise announcement in January that year that it was to lose its independence and be amalgamated into the new Serious and Organised Crime Agency. The decision prompted widespread concern that the merger, planned for early 2008, was not in the best interest of depriving Northern Ireland criminals of their ill-gotten gains not least because of the ARA’s increasingly effective cooperation with its counterpart Criminal Assets Bureau in the Irish Republic. Such cross-border links are mutually vital for all the organisations in the enforcement chain but the tentacles of Irish organised crime have now spread even further than the island’s coast. Donald Toon, the Deputy Director Criminal Investigations of the Revenue and Customs, says that Northern Irish criminals have a: significant impact across the rest of the UK and indeed into Europe. I think that is particularly noticeable in terms of oils fraud and in terms of tobacco fraud. In terms of the serious criminality, more than 50% of those involved would be Northern Irish or at least of Northern Irish extraction.

References Chris Ryder (2004) The Fateful Split (London: Methuen). Federation of Small Businesses, Northern Ireland, Crime Survey (2006) www.fsb.org.uk/ policy/rpu/ni/assets/crimebarrier.pdf Northern Ireland Affairs Committee (House of Commons, 2006). www.parliament.uk/parliamentary_committees/northern_ireland_affairs/niorganised_.cf mcrime Includes evidence and reports from: H M Customs and Revenue Police Service of Northern Ireland Assets Recovery Agency (Northern Ireland) Federation of Retail Licensed Trade Freight Transport Association and Road Haulage Association and other groups and individuals

8

The government’s response Peter R. Neumann

Introduction Despite its pivotal role in the current conflict, the British government has been widely neglected as a topic of research. Generally ignored by mainstream analysts, it has received consistent attention only from the left of the political spectrum, which explains why the image in the literature is that of a colonial oppressor, bent on asserting its so-called imperial and strategic interests.1 In practice, though, nothing could be further from the truth. With the British retreat from Empire and the rise of the Cold War, Ireland had lost its strategic importance in the eyes of British policymakers.2 If we want to find a convincing rationale for London’s actions and responses throughout the ‘troubles’, we have to look elsewhere. The defining influence that shaped the government’s perception of the conflict was its own estrangement from the province and its people. To English politicians, the Unionist idea of being British was alien, and at times, it seemed to contradict what they believed to be the very essence of Britishness. London’s concept of British identity entailed the presumed virtues of British political culture, such as fairness, tolerance, moderation and the rule of law. Unionists, on the other hand, appeared only to appreciate the symbols of Britain (the Queen, the Union Jack) but not what they stood for. They were thus regarded as backward bigots who abused their supposed Britishness for selfish reasons, that is, to establish a false sense of superiority over their Nationalist neighbours, and to extract financial and political support from the government in Westminster.3 In fact, in the course of more than 30 interviews with leading British policymakers, this author had not met one who expressed any enthusiasm about Northern Ireland’s continued membership in the United Kingdom, while several privately shared the view of former Northern Ireland Minister Lord Gowrie, who once stated that ‘if the people of Northern Ireland wished to join with the south of Ireland, no British government would resist it for twenty minutes’.4 Why, then, did the British government not simply get rid of Northern Ireland? Britain refused to abandon its ‘unwanted province’ because of the socalled ‘civil war scenario’, that is, the idea that to pursue a policy of Irish unity would lead to sectarian strife and civil war for which the British government

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would be blamed, and which might spill over to the British mainland.5 In that sense, the Home Rule arrangement, whereby Northern Ireland had become a self-governing province within the United Kingdom, suited the core British instinct perfectly. While avoiding the civil war scenario, it kept Northern Ireland at a distance – and for almost 50 years it guaranteed that the British government was reminded of its unwanted province only when it came to paying the yearly subvention. Throughout the conflict, therefore, the ultimate objective of British strategy was to restore a constitutional arrangement which allowed for the reduction of London’s political and military commitment to the province; an arrangement which ensured that this alien part of the country which – if not for a rather unfortunate accident of history – really belonged to the rest of Ireland, and whose culture and people were foreign to the ‘British way’, stopped interfering with the British body politic. It is this political context – that is, the government’s alienation from Northern Ireland, and its consequent eagerness to establish a devolved political settlement – within which the government’s constitutional, political, military and economic response to terrorism in Northern Ireland must be understood. In the following, the current conflict will be divided into four distinct phases: the period of escalation (1969–1972) when policymakers in London were convinced that the existing constitutional relationship could be maintained; the years of containment (1972–1992) when a comprehensive and largely successful strategy enabled the British government to manage (rather than resolve) the conflict; the settlement phase (1992–1998) during which the government took advantage of the IRA’s military weakness in order to construct an inclusive settlement; and the appeasement period (1998–2004) in which the agreement’s inherent contradictions became obvious. What we will show is that, despite its success as a manager of the ‘troubles’, the government’s eagerness to do away with the problem resulted in adverse outcomes at crucial junctures in the history of the conflict. This is true for the latest phase of British involvement, but it also applies to the first period of British engagement in Northern Ireland, which will be discussed in the following section.

Escalation, 1969–1972 The British government’s initial response to the conflict in Northern Ireland was woefully inadequate. Hoping that the constitutional status quo could somehow be preserved, policymakers in London squandered a golden opportunity to establish an equitable system of government at a time when most Catholics were still prepared to give the British government the benefit of the doubt; and they implemented a strategy which was instrumental in facilitating the rise of the Provisional IRA. Politically, the government was torn between what it believed was right, and what was seen to be in the best interests of the British state. Following the disturbances in Londonderry in the summer of 1969, there was no sympathy for the ‘Orangemen’, and it was felt that the disorder had arisen because of the

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supposed onslaught of Protestant extremists. At the crucial Cabinet meeting on 19 August – five days after British troops had been deployed to Belfast and Londonderry for the first time – many ministers expressed their understanding of Catholic grievances, blaming them on ‘years of neglect’ under previous (Tory) administrations when the province had essentially been treated like a foreign country.6 At the same time, members of the British Cabinet wanted to stay clear of any involvement in what they saw as a political and military quagmire. They conceptualised the conflict in historical terms, and one lesson that the government thought to have learned form Anglo-Irish history was that British interventions in Ireland caused more harm than good. The Defence Secretary, Denis Healey, pointed out that although he had ‘sympathy with the Catholics . . . we should be once again in the 1911–1914 situation’, when the British government’s third attempt to introduce Home Rule in Ireland almost led to civil war.7 The government’s overriding aim, therefore, was not to reform the province. Its objective was to recreate stability in order for British troops to be withdrawn, and for the constitutional relationship (which had allowed successive British Prime Ministers to forget about their unwanted province) to be preserved. In that sense, there clearly was an element of hypocrisy in the declarations of the British government issued at the time. From London’s viewpoint, there were firm limits on what amount of reform could be implemented. Some was necessary to make Stormont acceptable to the minority. However, if reform appeared to question the stability of the Unionist regime, it ran counter to the government’s ultimate objective. According to Home Secretary James Callaghan: ‘I said I wanted to be a catalyst [for peace, friendship and equality] . . . At the back of my mind, of course, I still did not want Britain to get more embroiled in Northern Ireland than we had to.’8 Hence, rather than exercising its supreme authority and take over the government of the province, London persuaded the Unionist regime to implement a limited programme of reform, including the setting up of various working parties as well as the introduction of legal safeguards against discrimination. The most significant measures related to security. The Royal Ulster Constabulary was disarmed and put under the guidance of the civilian panel; the exclusively Protestant police reserve, the Ulster Special Constabulary (the B-Specials) was disbanded and a new locally recruited part-time force – the Ulster Defence Regiment (UDR) – was established under the command of the British Army. To the British government, this half-hearted strategy appeared feasible because its members were completely ignorant of the zero-sum dynamics of politics in a deeply divided society where politics is about a once and for all, win or lose, issue as substantive as which nation-state you belong to now or in the future. Sectarianism had been imbedded in Northern Ireland society for decades (if not, centuries), and it could be seen in almost every sector of public life, including housing, schooling, employment, politics, and the security forces. To the Catholics, the reform programme appeared to indicate that London had tipped the sectarian balance in favour of them. On the Protestant side, however, the British government’s intervention had fuelled uncertainty. Many Protestants

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wondered, was this just the beginning – a slippery slope towards Irish unity? The result was that, as early as October 1969, Unionist discontent had become a more significant (and immediate) threat to the British government’s strategic objective of preserving Home Rule than the Catholic community’s grievances. In Cabinet, Callaghan declared: ‘The overriding consideration so far as we were concerned must remain the importance of refraining from any action which would weaken the position of the Northern Ireland Prime Minister.’9 Within just a few months, the British government had thus mutated from a champion of (Catholic) civil rights into a staunch defender of the status quo. When it became clear that the Unionist leaders were neither capable nor willing to deliver further reforms, and that London was neither capable nor willing to pressurise them, Catholic faith in the British government gradually disappeared. A power vacuum emerged which was to be filled by whoever appeared to be the best alternative provider of good government. For most Catholics, the traditional answer to this question lay in Irish Nationalism, and from early 1970, the IRA was able to mount its military campaign on the seeds that the British political strategy had sown. Indeed, London’s disastrous military strategy in the years 1969–1972 was not primarily the result of a failure in military leadership, but an outcome of the government’s flawed political approach. Having reluctantly agreed to deploy British troops to quell the civil disturbances in the summer of 1969, the emphasis shifted towards ensuring their swift exit as soon as they were on the ground. This had two consequences which turned out to be highly adverse. First, in order to avoid further entanglement in Northern Ireland, the security forces were instructed to avoid any confrontation with members of either community. Controversial Protestant marches as well as paramilitary funerals were allowed to go ahead, and the troops failed to establish a presence in the so-called ‘no go’ areas of Londonderry and West Belfast, where the security forces only operated sporadically and the IRA was therefore free to organise. Second, determined to proceed with its disengagement plans, the British government ignored all signs of the emerging threat. Following the so-called Ballymurphy riots in April 1970, when protestors confronted the troops in a three-day long street battle, Callaghan declared that there was ‘no new sinister conspiracy of which I am aware’.10 The renewed violence was conceptualised as a mere bump on the road, and by the end of the year, the number of regular forces in Northern Ireland had fallen to the lowest level in more than 12 months. It took until February 1971 for the new Defence Secretary, Lord Carrington, to acknowledge that ‘the recent riots represented a new phase in the campaign of violence. The disorder was no longer a merely inter-communal matter; and a situation approaching armed conflict was developing’.11 Once it was clear that the IRA had become a serious obstacle to stabilising Home Rule, the pendulum swung. Panic set in, and instead of continuing to play down the threat, the British government marshalled all the resources at its disposal to defeat the newly discovered enemy. This was, of course, easier said than done. The earlier focus on a swift exit from Northern Ireland meant that the

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Army had set up no intelligence-gathering operation, making it impossible to differentiate between ordinary Catholics, youthful rioters and members of the IRA. Outside the ‘no go’ areas (another unfortunate legacy bequeathed by the ‘softly, softly’ era) the absence of any useful information on terrorist activists resulted in large-scale cordon and search operations which alienated the population and achieved little in terms of finding the insurgents. Most importantly, though, when internment without trial was introduced in August 1971, the security forces had to resort to the outdated files provided by the RUC Special Branch, which contained practically no information on individuals that had joined the Republican movement after 1969. The other problem was that the British government had no idea what it meant to conduct a counter-insurgency campaign within a domestic framework. The domestic imperative of ‘minimum force’ looked good on paper, but was difficult to translate into simple operating procedures. The so-called Yellow Card outlined instructions for opening fire, yet it was subject to many revisions and perceived as too abstract by many soldiers on the ground.12 In practice, therefore, it was largely for the troops on the ground to resolve the dilemma of what level of force was appropriate. In many cases, this turned out to be far less than what would have been allowed by the law. In others the IRA succeeded in goading the troops into using excessive force against civilians. The underlying dilemma, however, was a political one. Given the precarious position of the Unionist government, it was clear that there could be no further political reform. Thus, instead of combining its efforts to defeat the IRA with a genuine push for a reform of the sectarian power structures, the British government allowed its actions to be perceived as exclusively repressive. From a Catholic perspective, London simply had nothing to offer, and it was no surprise, then, that many – even moderate – Catholics became ambiguous in their attitude towards the forces of law and order. Even before the introduction of internment and Bloody Sunday, Britain’s most senior soldier in Northern Ireland, Harry Tuzo, reckoned that ‘half the Catholic population sympathises with the IRA, and up to a quarter – that is, about 120,000 people – is ready to give the organisation active support’.13 It was only when the conflict reached almost civil war like proportions that the British government finally accepted the impossibility of attaining its objective. Recognising that the current arrangement represented a constitutional strait jacket, a memorandum written by Callaghan’s successor, Reginald Maudling, in late February 1971 argued that ‘the dangers of continuing with the present policy are now greater than the danger of trying to make a new start’.14 Unfortunately, this new start had to take place under conditions infinitely more complicated than in 1969. Inter-communal relations had reached an all-time low; the British government had lost the goodwill of population and political players alike; and events like internment and Bloody Sunday provided the insurgents with the symbols necessary to sustain a prolonged terrorist campaign.

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Containment, 1972–1992 The introduction of Direct Rule in March 1972 was not thought of as a longterm solution. Rather, it was to create a ‘breathing space’ in which to establish a new form of devolved government for the province. Still, the principles and parameters decided upon at the time came to represent a strategic toolbox which formed the basis for the successful containment of the conflict over the following decades. This meant that the IRA was never again able to develop the military and political momentum to force the British government to fundamentally alter its policy towards the province. Arguably, then, it was the British government (rather than the IRA) which had first embarked on a ‘long war’ of attrition. The government’s political approach revolved around the idea of a devolved administration. A united Ireland could only come about with the consent of a majority of the population of Northern Ireland (the ‘consent principle’); any new form of local government had to be backed by political representatives from both sides of the sectarian divide (the postulate of ‘cross-community support’); and even though the province was to remain an integral part of the United Kingdom, there needed to be an institutionalised point of reference reflecting the fact that the minority continued to see itself ‘as simply a part of the wider Irish community’15 (the ‘Irish dimension’). This formula, of course, was not entirely unproblematic. The postulate of cross-community support implied that the two main parties on each side, the Social Democratic and Labour Party (SDLP) and the Ulster Unionist Party (UUP), were effectively handed vetoes with which to block any attempt at returning to devolution. Given the (sectarian) pattern of inter-party competition in Northern Ireland (in which votes are won by reaching out to the radical fringes rather than the moderate centre of one’s community), this made the successful conclusion of a political settlement almost impossible. In 1973, the London government successfully facilitated agreement between the SDLP and the UUP, but the ensuing (so-called Sunningdale) Executive was brought down by Unionist opposition less than six months after taking office. During the 1975 Constitutional Convention, the British government again failed to overcome the Unionists’ unwillingness to share power with the Nationalists. At the 1980 Constitutional Conference, neither the UUP nor the SDLP were prepared to become part of an accommodation. In 1982, the ‘rolling devolution’ Assembly never assumed any real power once the SDLP (now under pressure from the IRA’s political wing, Sinn Féin) had decided to boycott it. At the Brooke/Mayhew talks in 1991 and 1992, it was again the Nationalist side that prevented the emergence of a political settlement (see below). In fact, the only major transgression from the British containment strategy was caused by the government’s frustration about the local politicians’ intransigence: the AngloIrish Agreement (AIA) of 1985 attempted to sideline the local parties by replacing the need for local consensus with a controversial form of inter-governmental accommodation between the London and Dublin governments.16 The other problem with London’s political strategy was the government’s position of neutrality (some would say, indifference) vis-à-vis the final constitu-

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tional status of the province, which institutionalised an asymmetry in the political process. While the Nationalists had an openly partisan partner in the Irish government, the British government found it impossible to side with its selfdeclared allies, that is, the Unionists. Indeed, many Protestants thought it outrageous that ‘their’ government engaged in close political co-ordination with the administration in Dublin, and even secretly negotiated with the IRA, but refused to fight for the Unionist cause. The impression that the British government was an unreliable and reluctant ally furthered the sense of siege and latent betrayal amongst Protestants, encouraging their suspicion of every British initiative as a possible prelude to withdrawal. While the British government’s political strategy primarily aimed at bringing together the moderate parties from both sides, it is worth pointing out that London never had any ideological objections to a settlement that included the political representatives of paramilitary organisations. On the contrary, as soon as the terrorists were prepared to renounce the use of violence, politicians in London actually welcomed and encouraged all such attempts at converting the ‘men of violence’. As early as 1972, Northern Ireland Secretary William Whitelaw talked ‘in hopefully glowing terms’ about the idea of ‘politicising the Provos . . . [as] an essential part of the solution to the Northern Irish problem’.17 In July 1972, a British government delegation met the Republican leadership in London; and while this meeting was later portrayed by Whitelaw and others as a token exercise to demonstrate the Republicans’ intransigence, recently released records clearly show that the government hoped to find some IRA ‘doves’ who would ‘have a possible role in future political discussions’.18 Two years later, one of the first decisions taken by Northern Ireland Secretary Merlyn Rees was to legalise Sinn Féin. The government embraced the opportunity to meet the Republican leadership shortly after the IRA had announced a temporary cessation of its campaign in December 1974. According to the Republicans’ own account, rather than talking about the withdrawal of British troops, the government was keen ‘to persuade Sinn Féin to take part in the elections for the Constitutional Convention’.19 Even in the 1980s, which appeared to represent a climax of London’s efforts to marginalise the Republican movement, London’s attitude towards Sinn Féin was much more pragmatic than its rhetorical postures suggested. In 1985, for example, Northern Ireland Minister of State Nicholas Scott pointed out that while it was necessary to ‘draw as firm a distinction as possible between those who advocate constitutional politics and those who advocate violence’, he accepted that the continuation of this policy was ‘a matter for political judgment, and that judgment could change from time to time according to the circumstances that prevail’.20 Like Scott, most members of the government were convinced that ‘sooner or later it had to be done’21 – that is, to talk to Sinn Féin – but as, for most of the 1980s, there were no signs that the Republicans had any intention of ending its military campaign, the government viewed the continued exclusion of the Republican movement simply as a practical necessity.

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Following the abolition of Stormont in 1972, the British government re-revaluated not only its political but also its military strategy. Policymakers recognised that the conflict in Northern Ireland was unique and complicated, and that the military response had to be shaped accordingly. The hybrid nature of the conflict,22 the domestic context, and the need to facilitate a complex political objective, all added to the impression that a purely military defeat of the IRA was impossible, and that the purpose of the military instrument was to help bring about a political solution, which would then marginalise and make irrelevant the ‘men of violence’.23 Three principles emerged: first, given the ultimate political aim of inducing a cross-community settlement, Britain’s military strategy had to account for the sensibilities of moderate political leaders on both sides of the sectarian divide (the principle of ‘acceptability’). Second, hoping that this would further an atmosphere of stability and political compromise, the military campaign needed to be as unobtrusive as possible (the imperative of ‘normality’). Third, aiming to maximise the legitimacy of constitutional government, the rule of law had to be seen to be preserved (the notion of ‘legality’). The most significant changes in these respects were implemented in the 1970s. In what came to be known as ‘criminalisation’, the government decided to abolish the two most obvious anomalies in Northern Ireland criminal law, namely the use of internment without trial and the assignment of Special Category status to paramilitary prisoners. This, it was argued, had helped the paramilitaries gain legitimacy, implicitly recognised the warlike situation of the conflict, and undermined the state’s monopoly on the use of force. In other words, the emergency laws ran counter to the idea that Northern Ireland was an essentially ‘normal’ society which had been hijacked by a small number of extremists. Hence, internment was gradually phased out, and newly convicted prisoners were deprived of Special Category (in March 1980, the status was withdrawn from all remaining inmates). In addition, there was a distinct change in governmental rhetoric, which denied the political content of terrorist activity and sought to portray its perpetrators and mindless thugs and criminals. Rees’ successor as Northern Ireland Secretary, Roy Mason, rarely referred to IRA members as terrorists, simply describing them as ‘gangsters and destroyers’.24 The other main initiative was the introduction of ‘police primacy’. Of course, London was keen to reduce its military commitment, especially at a time when the main job of the British Army was believed to be the defence of the Western alliance, ‘not chasing around the backstreets of Belfast’.25 Yet, among policymakers, there was also a (typically British) belief in the police force as the ultimately superior mediator in situations of violent conflict.26 From 1977, the lead in all law enforcement and counter-insurgency was returned to the RUC, and this was accompanied by the systematic expansion and professionalism of the force. (It is, in fact, somewhat misleading to reduce this development to the popular term ‘Ulsterisation’: one of the two locally recruited security agencies, the UDR, had for some years declined in strength and would continue to do so; and the Army would still perform its policing role in ‘tough areas’ like west Belfast or south Armagh.)27 Although this strategy provided a sound framework within which to conduct

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the government’s military campaign, it was far from perfect. The implementation of the ‘criminal justice model’, for example, turned out to be highly disruptive. The withdrawal of Special Category was resisted by many Catholics, who perceived it as an attempt to criminalise their entire community. Resulting in the so-called Hunger Strikes of 1980 and 1981 and the election of (IRA prisoner) Bobby Sands as a Member of Parliament (MP), it triggered the rise of Sinn Féin as a political party, as well as forcing the SDLP into adopting a more intransigent and openly Nationalist position vis-à-vis the British government.28 Furthermore, despite various modifications of the legal process (for instance, the introduction of juryless courts and extended periods for questioning), it still proved extremely difficult to achieve guilty verdicts in court. As a result, many terrorists went free; others – such as Lenny Murphy, whose ‘Shankhill Butchers’ were responsible for the sadistic murders of up to 30 Catholics – could be convicted only of minor offences and continued their activities after being released. In this case (as in others), the difficulty of achieving convictions had nothing to do with government collusion, but simply with the process of ‘normal’ law, which required the highest standards of proof and ruled out much of the evidence that was collected by clandestine means. Arguably, the government’s military response was most effective whenever it crossed the boundaries of the criminal justice model. The ‘supergrass system’, whereby people were convicted on the word of an accomplice, managed to ‘[break] up the Ulster Volunteer Force command structure . . . and virtually eliminated the Provisional IRA in north Belfast’.29 However, it also produced a number of unsafe verdicts, and needed to be ended as a result. The systematic penetration of paramilitary organisations with informers (the ‘dirty war’) helped save many lives, yet it also implicated the security forces in the crimes of their agents.30 The entrapment and killing of terrorist operatives by British special forces (the so-called ‘counter-ambush’) eradicated entire IRA units, yet it is hard to see how this sort of tactic conformed with the domestic imperative of ‘minimum force’.31 In that sense, then, the military containment of the conflict was achieved not only through adherence to the criminal justice model, but also by the occasional – yet carefully calculated – breach of it. In the sphere of economic and social policy, it took considerable time for the British government to find a coherent approach. Throughout the first two decades of the conflict, policymakers in London believed that there was a causal relationship between the lack of prosperity and the inclination to commit violence, which meant that the prospects of a peaceful resolution could be enhanced if general material conditions in the province improved. However, the principle of ‘peace through prosperity’ was implemented rather simplistically in the 1970s, when a seemingly unlimited amount of cash was made available to attract inward investment, improve housing conditions and expand the public sector to achieve parity with the rest of the country. Still, with adverse economic conditions throughout most of the 1970s and early 1980s, the government’s ‘wild orgy of senseless spending’32 produced very limited results. Indeed, failed investments like the DeLorean sports car factory, which resulted in the loss of £85 million in government subsidies between 1978 and 1982 (when the West

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Belfast plant was closed down), came to signify the thoughtless and (plainly) irresponsible attitude with which taxpayers’ money had been spent.33 Changing attitudes towards public spending across the Irish Sea meant that there was increasing pressure on Northern Ireland ministers to ensure ‘value for money’, and even if the canons of monetarism applied to the province only in a fairly restricted sense, Thatcherism nevertheless prompted the government to think about how public resources could be used in a more targeted way. The Thatcher period also saw an astonishing about-turn regarding the issue of ‘relative inequality’, that is, the significant differentials between Catholics and Protestants in relation to employment and income. Throughout most of the 1970s, the government found it convenient to ignore what was a persistent grievance of the minority community, hoping that its efforts to achieve economic parity with the rest of the United Kingdom would eventually pay off and eradicate any tangible differences in material status between the two communities. Even though there were some attempts to locate new investment in Catholic areas (such as, for example, DeLorean), there was no consistent approach, and legislation extended only to individual legal safeguards against discrimination (which were rarely used) and the creation of a Fair Employment Agency that ‘[opted] for education and public relations exercises’ rather than any substantive approach of altering the sectarian structures in the employment sector.34 In the second half of the 1980s, the government’s reluctance to upset intercommunal relations was overcome by external pressures, particularly from within the United States Congress and the Irish government, which had both lobbied the British government extensively on the issue. In fact, the Northern Ireland Secretary at the time, Tom King, now confirms that external influences were decisive in impressing upon London the need for stronger legislation.35 The resulting Fair Employment Act (1989) was significant in that it accepted the need to go beyond individual safeguards, and it allowed for stringent monitoring procedures. Yet it also displayed the unease with which the government still approached the issue: for example, while compelling employers to consider affirmative action in order to redress existing imbalances, it explicitly prohibited them from taking measures that were exclusive to one particular community.36 Such contradictions made it clear that the British government had been a reluctant convert to the notion that – in a deeply divided society – equality of opportunity is perceived not only in individual terms but also in relation to one’s community. By the beginning of the 1990s, the British government found itself in a distinctly more comfortable position than two decades previously. As Margaret Thatcher pointed out, paramilitary activity had reached a plateau below which the government’s security effort could be sustained almost indefinitely.37 According to some estimates, around 85 per cent of IRA operations in the late 1980s were aborted for fear of detection or could be prevented by the security forces.38 Hence, when the Republicans started to reach out to other Nationalists and the British government, they did so from a position of military weakness, not strength. As the IRA’s former Belfast Brigade commander, Brendan

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Hughes, put it: ‘[The IRA] came to the conclusion that the British military regime could not be defeated, and there had to be negotiations . . . [T]he only alternative was to carry on a futile war’.39 The insurgents were losing – but was the government winning? Containment did not equal victory, nor did it mean peace. Northern Ireland and the British mainland remained vulnerable to attacks. In fact, on two occasions – in 1984 and 1991 – the IRA almost managed to kill the Prime Minister as well as wipe out the entire British Cabinet. While weakened, therefore, the organisation still had the capability to trigger a political crisis, and it was only logical that the government would respond to – and indeed encourage – the IRA’s attempt at strategic re-evaluation.

Settlement, 1992–1998 The 1990s were dominated by the search for a political accommodation that included the political representatives of the paramilitary groups, especially the IRA. Initially, this was considered an impossible task, not least because of the highly dogmatic nature of Republicanism. That the quest for a settlement was successful, and that it could be achieved without giving way on core constitutional principles, is the result of the successful mediation of the British government. Paradoxically, though, the government’s eagerness to bring the paramilitaries into the political arena not only paved the way for the conclusion of the Belfast Agreement, it also sowed the seeds for years of political deadlock. As detailed, there is a popular misconception which seeks to portray the British government as an opponent of an inclusive political process.40 In reality, London welcomed as inclusive a settlement as possible. From a British perspective, however, there were two conditions. First, there could be no compromise with the ‘men of violence’, and any involvement in violent activities had to be ended before integration into the democratic process could be contemplated. The second was that – if a stable institutional arrangement was to emerge – the Republicans’ inclusion in a negotiated settlement could not be imposed, but that it needed to be accepted by the other political parties. This was not to grant the Unionists a veto, as the Republicans claimed. It was simply a matter of reality: ‘A settlement which did not enjoy genuine consent’, Prime Minister John Major recognised, ‘would have stood no chance of working.’41 The exact process by which the political representatives of the IRA could become part of a negotiated settlement was subject to fierce debate between the British and Irish governments. The British government favoured an ‘indirect approach’ whereby a talks process between the moderate parties would be launched first, creating a dynamic that would (then) compel the Republicans to take a decision to abandon violence and sign up to the political process. According to one of London’s key civil servants: ‘It was hoped that this would bring pressure to bear on them because they would be missing what would be an important event.’42 The Irish government, however, believed that this would alienate the IRA, and that any process leading up to a comprehensive settlement had to revolve around the wishes of the Republicans. The ultimate priority was

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to trigger a cessation of IRA violence, which appeared to equal peace and thus represented the final point of any peace process. In the words of the Irish Taoiseach, Albert Reynolds: ‘Peace can’t wait. The killing must be stopped. Time is not on our side.’43 As a consequence, Dublin – in alliance with the SDLP – consciously sabotaged the 1992 Mayhew talks, making it clear that the IRA would have to be ‘stitched into a settlement’.44 As the self-declared ‘honest broker’, it fell to the British government to pick up the pieces and construct a viable political process. The so-called Downing Street Declaration (announced by Major and Reynolds in December 1993) represented the successful conclusion of this task.45 After many months of hard bargaining, London had effectively managed to turn a staunchly Nationalist draft (which had originated from discussions between the leaders of the SDLP and Sinn Féin) into a document which united the whole spectrum of constitutional Nationalism and the Ulster Unionist Party behind the principles of consent and non-violence. While the overall tone of the declaration was ‘green’, thus allowing the Nationalist side to claim ownership of the document, the government had avoided the granting of any special privileges or political concessions to the IRA. With the Irish government now satisfied that the Republicans had been offered a fair deal, London’s ‘indirect approach’ could eventually be made effective. In mid-1994, Reynolds recommitted his administration to the idea of constitutional talks, and he warned the IRA that if no cessation of violence was to follow, ‘I’ll go off down that . . . talks road with John Major.’46 Several weeks later, the IRA declared an unconditional ceasefire. Throughout the IRA’s first ceasefire period (September 1994 to February 1996), the political process was deadlocked over the issue of decommissioning. Only Labour’s election victory in May 1997 brought fresh political momentum, yet the change in government made little difference in relation to London’s overall strategy. Embracing Major’s ‘indirect approach’, Tony Blair’s first move was to announce the date for another round of constitutional talks, thus reassuring the Unionists while compelling the IRA to decide in favour of another ceasefire. In what summarised British policy ever since the Mayhew talks, Blair warned the IRA that ‘the settlement train is leaving. I want you on that train. But it is leaving anyway, and I will not allow it to wait for you’.47 The essence of the ensuing agreement,48 concluded in April 1998, seemed to vindicate the government’s posture. Notwithstanding the commitment to a ‘new beginning’ in policing and the strong emphasis on ‘equality of esteem’, the core provisions of the Belfast Agreement largely follow the example of previous, non-inclusive attempts at producing an agreed settlement. With a devolved Assembly, executive power-sharing and an institutionalised – albeit fairly limited – Irish dimension, the Agreement contained all the ingredients which London had regarded as essential elements of a constitutional compromise as early as 1972. The text of the agreement, however, cannot simply be removed from the political context in which it was negotiated. Despite London’s remarkable achievement in preserving the constitutional fundamentals, the integration of Sinn Féin into the political process extracted a high price. The most obvious

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concession was granted on the issue of illegally held weapons. The British government had failed to specify whether it was sufficient to call an extended ceasefire or if it was necessary to completely disarm one’s organisation in order to be considered eligible to enter the democratic process. On the whole, London had not expected this question to assume any real significance. It believed that a problem-free deal on decommissioning could be negotiated once a ceasefire was in place, and that – in any case – the IRA would find it impossible to return to war once their community had been given a taste of peace.49 In doing so, policymakers grossly underestimated the historical, tactical and strategic importance with which the Republicans viewed their arsenal – and they were consequently overwhelmed by the deadlock which arose from the Republicans’ categorical refusal even to consider a gesture of disarmament. Worse even, rather than confronting the issue – that is, making it clear to the Republicans that no democratic process could tolerate the threat of violence, even if it was implicit – the government then watered down the requirement, only for it to be dropped altogether once the IRA ceasefire had broken down. At best, this demonstrated a lack of clear thinking; at worst, it was a capitulation to the threat of renewed violence. Instead of learning the lesson from the political deadlock during the first ceasefire period – namely, that the continued existence of private armies was divisive and destabilising – the new Blair government repeated the mistake and continued to sideline the issue rather than confronting it. The assumption was that the Republicans were acting in good faith, and that any overt discussion of the topic would destabilise the movement’s leadership which – according to Northern Ireland Secretary Mo Mowlam – it was ‘essential’ to keep in place.50 As a result, the Belfast Agreement contains no clear timetable – or even obligation – for the paramilitaries to disarm. Rather, by failing to establish clear benchmarks, it encourages the Republicans to hold on to their arsenal as long as possible, and continue to employ it alongside their electoral mandate as an additional instrument with which to obtain political concessions. Related to this question is the issue of prisoner release. Throughout the process leading up to the Belfast Agreement, British policymakers emphasised that the principle of criminalisation was non-negotiable, and that ‘there will be no amnesty [because there] are no political prisoners in the United Kingdom’.51 In reality, though, London had decided to abandon the principle. From the very beginning, the idea was to turn the early release of prisoners into a bargaining chip with which to achieve the removal of the IRA’s weaponry. The Northern Ireland Office’s Political Director, Quentin Thomas, now confirms that the two issues were thought to be linked under the heading ‘the practical consequences of the ending of violence’, and that they were discussed as soon as the IRA had declared its first ceasefire.52 Four years later, however, in the final hours of negotiation, no ‘deal’ along these lines was done. As Mowlam herself admits, there was no attempt at all to link the two issues: the government agreed to early release not in return for the IRA’s guns, but hoping that this would persuade the Republicans to go along with the other parties’ constitutional ideas.53 In the end,

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therefore, London gave away what had once been a sacred principle without having addressed the issue of decommissioning at all. Of course, one may argue that the idea of criminalisation had always been flawed, and that it was about time to get rid of an outdated policy. On the other hand, there can be little doubt that the abandonment of the principle, and especially the circumstances under which this was done, sent a terribly flawed message. By conceding that all paramilitary prisoners had been little more than political hostages, it undermines the rule of law and questions all the judicial decisions taken in previous decades. In doing so, it also encourages the remaining paramilitary groups to carry on until their ‘grievances’ are recognised as political and somehow legitimate too. Moreover, even if one accepts the necessity to address the prisoner issue as part of an inclusive political settlement, by failing to achieve a direct linkage between early release and decommissioning, the government gave away the most powerful incentive for Republicans to make their adherence to peaceful means permanent. At first sight, therefore, the conclusion of the Belfast Agreement appeared to make possible everything the British government had ever aimed for: it provided for an end to terrorist violence, and it also created the constitutional framework within which it would be possible to gradually reduce London’s political and military commitment to the province. At the same time, though, the government’s eagerness to achieve any such deal meant that some of the key questions were left unaddressed, and that compromises were struck which carried within them the potential to negate the hoped-for benefits of a political settlement.

Appeasement, 1998–2004 The years 1998–2004 witnessed the gradual implosion of the Belfast Agreement. Failing to grasp the importance of creating equal conditions for all the political actors participating in the accord, the British government’s hapless attempts at easing the Republicans’ transition into the democratic arena caused a gross distortion of the political process. The consequence was a prolonged period of political instability with no real prospect of getting the institutions of the Agreement up and running. Devolved government under the Belfast Agreement was operating in three brief intervals (November 1999 to February 2000; May 2000 to July 2001; and October 2001 to October 2002), yet none of them brought the peace and stability which the Agreement had promised. Indeed, even at times when Unionists and Republicans were sharing executive office, the political atmosphere was marred by deadlock and political infighting, so that the new institutions could never quite settle in. The primary reason for this seven year long political stand-off was the IRA’s continued refusal to disarm, and the Unionists’ consequent reluctance to sit down in government with the political representatives of a movement which still maintained the best equipped private army in western Europe. In fact, not only did the paramilitaries fail to disarm, they continued to engage in terrorism: the 1998–2001 period saw an increase in

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shootings, bombings, and punishment attacks;54 and in early 2004, the Independent Monitoring Commission, which supervises the state of the paramilitary ceasefires, concluded that the IRA ‘maintain[ed] itself in a state of readiness’, and that it was involved in a range of criminal activities as well as in ‘the serious use of violence’.55 Immediately after the conclusion of the Agreement, Blair had pledged that the decommissioning of arms ‘should begin straight away’, that those who used or threatened violence would be excluded from the power-sharing executive, and that prisoners were to be ‘kept in’ until paramilitary activities had been ‘given up for good’.56 In reality, though, the British government failed to sanction any of the paramilitaries’ political representatives, and the early release of prisoners went ahead without an end to the violence or the handing in of any guns. From the government’s point of view, to put pressure on the paramilitaries was to risk the emergence of radical splinter groups, and that would have made the construction of a viable settlement even more difficult. As the chief constable put it: ‘The fact that [the paramilitary groups] remain intact presents the greatest opportunity for the delivery of true, enduring, disciplined and lasting peace.’57 An immediate consequence of this approach was to reverse the perceptions of who was responsible for the political deadlock. Instead of holding the paramilitaries to account, the British government now started blaming the Unionists. Those who insisted on decommissioning were portrayed as intransigent nay-sayers, and Northern Ireland Secretary Peter Mandelson even threatened them with the introduction of the Unionist nightmare scenario – joint rule by London and Dublin – if the so-called ‘hardliners’ (the Unionists, that is) were to maintain their position.58 Moreover, the Republican leadership became increasingly adept at exploiting the rumours about internal dissent in order to delay the beginning of decommissioning and gain further political concessions. Favours granted to the Republicans included, for example, the dismantling of military installations, an amnesty for so-called ‘on the runs’ (IRA operatives which had never been convicted), the granting of several inquiries into the alleged abuse of state power, the reorganisation of the police force’s special branch, the inclusion of IRA members on policing boards, and the increased use of the Irish language in public life. When the IRA eventually decided to get rid of some of their arms, it was at a time of their own choosing, carefully calculated to maximise the political advantage that could be gained from doing so. The first symbolic act – immediately following the terrorist attacks on 9/11 – aimed at reassuring their supporters, especially in the United States. The two other acts (in April 2002 and October 2003) both preceded electoral contests, and were generally seen as attempts to court the propeace vote among Catholics north and south of the border. Hence, in its misguided attempt at facilitating Republican inclusion into the democratic process, the British government rewarded the terrorists who kept their guns, and punished the moderates who had never had any. The outcome was a gross distortion of the political process. On the Nationalist side, the SDLP was overtaken by Sinn Féin, partly because the record of political concessions

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appeared to demonstrate the Republicans’ effectiveness at fighting their constituency’s cause. On the Protestant side, there emerged a widespread feeling of ‘betrayal’ and ‘unease’ about the peace process, which – in the view of a majority of Protestants – has delivered results only for one side of the community.59 Rather than strengthening the pro-Agreement forces around the Ulster Unionist leader David Trimble, the years since 1998 have seen an unparalleled rise in support for Ian Paisley’s Democratic Unionist Party, which rejects the Agreement as well as any co-operation with Sinn Féin. Paradoxically, therefore, the various attempts at implementing the Belfast Agreement have produced a situation in which the full realisation of the accord’s institutional and political objectives is less likely than ever. To a great extent, the responsibility for this situation lies with the British government, which – for more than ten years now – has shied away from compelling the Republican movement to complete their transformation from terrorism to democratic politics.

Conclusion If we accept that the British government’s objective throughout the conflict was to minimise its political and military commitment to the province, how has it fared? Was its response to the threat appropriate? Has it been effective? What lessons can be learned? As this analysis has shown, policymakers came to develop a sound understanding of the key political and military implications of the conflict. For more than two decades – in the so-called containment period – the government successfully protected itself against the political fallout from the conflict, and it brought down its intensity to a level at which the posture could have been sustained almost indefinitely. This, however, happened only once London had learned from its own, fundamentally flawed strategy in the 1969–1972 period. Back then, hoping that the undemocratic and inequitable structures of the Stormont regime could somehow be stabilised, the British government had actually made the situation worse, contributed to the rise of the terrorist challenge and damaged its own credibility in the eyes of the Catholic as well as those of the rest of the world. Not abolishing Stormont at a time when Britain still enjoyed the goodwill of the Catholics and the IRA had been little more than a folk memory, that was the government’s original sin – one for which it paid dearly. The implementation of the containment strategy from 1972 represents a good template for counter-insurgency in a liberal democracy. At all times, the military effort was informed by the government’s political objective of creating a crosscommunity settlement, which ruled out the application of overwhelming or indiscriminate force, and dictated that the process whereby terrorist suspects were brought to justice needed to be seen as legitimate. Even the government’s actions in the field of socio-economic policy were, to some extent, subject to its wider political considerations. Its stance on issues like fair employment legislation, for example, was strongly influenced by how this would be perceived in the

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two communities (as well as the outside world). No doubt, therefore, that the government’s co-ordinated as well as patient approach contributed greatly to the ‘neutralisation’ of its most potent enemy, the IRA, which could never hope to achieve its political objectives through violent means after 1972. It needs be pointed out, however, that there were inconsistencies too. It is possible to argue, for instance, that the security forces were most effective whenever they pushed the boundaries of the ‘criminal justice’ model, such as with the ‘counterambush’ tactic in the late 1980s. Regarding the most recent period of British involvement in Northern Ireland, it may be too early to come to a final judgement. Still, what we have seen over the past years is – possibly – another critical juncture in the history of the conflict. It may also come to be regarded as another fundamental error by future historians. While it was correct to offer the Republicans a political exit from their increasingly futile campaign, it is an entirely different question whether it was right to accord them preferential treatment in the ensuing political process. As things stand, the government’s weak and defensive position vis-à-vis the paramilitaries has not only ensured the survival and continued activity of these groups, it has also grossly distorted the political process, making a viable constitutional settlement even less of a probability. In that sense, London has contradicted its own objective, because – instead of reducing its commitment – the current situation has compelled London to deal with one crisis after the next. Critics of the current peace process are usually confronted with two main arguments. First, they are accused of being ‘armchair generals’ – people who know everything best but have no insight into the intractability of conflict resolution. Second, they are told that the peace process has already saved many lives, and that – in the words of the journalist David McKittrick – ‘without it many people who are alive today would be in untimely graves’.60 None of these arguments are intellectually valid. While it is impossible to even respond to the first critique (if only those that are actively involved in the resolution of a conflict are entitled to an opinion, we need to abandon newspapers, television stations, as well as the idea of free debate generally), the second one presents a false dichotomy. It suggests that the only alternative to the peace process is fullscale war. The truth is that it is impossible to know how the conflict would have evolved had the peace process not occurred. Maybe it would have raged out of control, maybe it would have continued at the same rate. Perhaps, though, the IRA would have followed the same trajectory as ETA, which – without any peace process at all – has virtually ceased to operate, because it finds it militarily and politically difficult to sustain a terrorist campaign. In fact, even some of the IRA’s former ‘hard men’ now admit that, following the 9/11 attacks, for anyone within the Republican movement ‘to even advocate armed struggle’ would be inconceivable.61 The more problematic aspect of the ‘untimely grave’ argument is that it denies that there is an alternative to this peace process, and that those who do not support every aspect of current government policy are enemies of peace. Again, this is a deliberate misrepresentation. Indeed, it is our contention that

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more lives could have been saved if the government had been more consistent and assertive in its opposition to all forms of violent threat. And if, instead of rewarding those who continue the old politics of threat and coercion, London started rewarding the moderates on whom it’s constitutional designs depend. Because if there is one thing the recent history of the Northern Ireland conflict proves beyond doubt, it is that guns and government don’t mix.

Notes 1 See, for example, David Miller (ed.) (1998) Rethinking Northern Ireland: Culture, Ideology and Colonialism (London: Longman); Liam O’Dowd et al. (eds) (1980) Northern Ireland Between Civil Rights and Civil War (London: CSE Books); David Reed (1984) Ireland: The Key to the British Revolution (London: Larkin Press). 2 Peter R. Neumann (2003) Britain’s Long War: British Strategy in the Northern Ireland Conflict, 1969–98 (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan), pp. 17–21. 3 As Prime Minister Harold Wilson put it in 1974, they were ‘people who spend their lives sponging on Westminster and British democracy and then systematically assault democratic methods’; quoted in Don Anderson (1994) 14 May Days: The Inside Story of the Loyalist Strike of 1974 (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan), p. 135. 4 Gowrie, quoted in Paul Bew and Gordon Gillepsie (1993) Northern Ireland: A Chronology of the Troubles, 1968–1993 (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan), p. 163. 5 See Neumann, Britain’s Long War, p. 22. 6 Public Record Office (PRO), CAB 128/44/41, 19 August 1969; also Harold Wilson (1971) The Labour Government, 1964–70 (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson), p. 876. 7 Healey, quoted in Tony Benn (1988) Office Without Power: Diaries, 1968–72 (London: Hutchinson), p. 196. 8 James Callaghan (1973) A House Divided: The Dilemma of Northern Ireland (London: Collins), p. 71. 9 PRO, CAB 128/45/21, 7 May 1970. 10 House of Commons Hansard (HC), Vol. 799, c. 321, 7 April 1970. 11 PRO, CAB 128/49/9, 9 February 1971. 12 See ‘Instructions by the Director of Operations for opening fire’, The Times, 1 February 1972. 13 Tuzo, quoted in ‘A fateful decision’, The Economist, 7 August 1971. 14 PRO, CAB 129/62/1, 3 March 1972. 15 Northern Ireland Office (1972) The Future of Northern Ireland: A Paper for Discussion (London: HMSO), p. 33. 16 For details of all these initiatives, including the Anglo-Irish Agreement, see Neumann, Britain’s Long War. 17 Mary Holland, ‘Miss McGuire and Mr Whitelaw’, New Statesman, 8 September 1972. 18 PRO, CAB 128/48/3, 22 June 1972. 19 Meeting on 5 March 1975; Republican minutes, quoted in Peter Taylor (1997) Provos: The IRA and Sinn Féin (London: Bloomsbury), p. 187. 20 HC, Vol. 81, c. 1025, 26 June 1985. 21 Lord Gowrie, interview with author, 13 December 2001. 22 By hybrid, we mean the simultaneous occurrence of insurgency (the IRA against the British state) and inter-communal conflict (Catholics versus Protestants). 23 Indeed, this is what Maudling meant when he referred to ‘an acceptable level of violence’ as the military aim of British policy in Northern Ireland; see Maudling, quoted in ‘Home Secretary says IRA may never be totally eliminated’, The Times, 16 December 1971.

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24 Mason, quoted in ‘No happy new year’, The Economist, 1 January 1977; see also Peter R. Neumann, (2003) ‘Winning the “War on Terror?” Roy Mason’s contribution to counter-terrorism in Northern Ireland’, Small Wars and Insurgencies, 14:3, pp. 45–64. 25 Northern Ireland Minister Roland Moyle, interview with author, 7 March 2001; quoted in Peter R. Neumann, (2003) ‘The myth of Ulsterization in British security policy in Northern Ireland’, Studies in Conflict and Terrorism, 26:5, p. 369. 26 Ibid. 27 For exact figures, see ibid., pp. 365–377. 28 Neumann, Britain’s Long War, pp. 110–111, 115–116. 29 Ed Moloney, ‘Will supergrass sow a bitter harvest?’, The Times, 13 September 1983; see also Tony Gifford (1984) Supergrasses: The Use of Accomplice Evidence in Northern Ireland (London: Cobden Trust). 30 See Martin Ingram and Greg Harkin (2004) Stakeknife: Britain’s Secret Agents in Ireland (Dublin: O’Brien Press). 31 See Taylor, Provos, Chapters 18 and 19. 32 Northern Ireland Minister Adam Butler (speaking about his predecessor’s actions); HC, Vol. 1, c. 335, 18 March 1981. 33 See Ivan Fallon (1983) DeLorean: The Rise and Fall of a Dream-Maker (London: Hamish Hamilton). 34 Vincent McCormack (1990) Enduring Inequality: Religious Discrimination in Employment in Northern Ireland (London: National Council for Civil Liberties), p. 33. 35 Tom King, interview with author, 27 November 2001. 36 Neumann, Britain’s Long War, pp. 143–145. 37 Margaret Thatcher (1993) The Downing Street Years (London: HarperCollins), p. 412. 38 Former Head of Special Branch, Northern Ireland Police Service, Bill Lowry, interview with author, 2 March 2004. 39 Hughes, quoted in Peter Taylor (2002) Brits: The War Against the IRA (London: Bloomsbury), p. 208. 40 See Peter R. Neumann (2003) ‘Bringing in the rogues: political violence, the British government and Sinn Féin’, Terrorism and Political Violence, 15:3, pp. 154–171. 41 John Major (1999) John Major: The Autobiography (London: HarperCollins), p. 441. 42 Quentin Thomas, interview with author, 20 February 2002. 43 Reynolds, quoted in Sean Duignan (1995) One Spin on the Merry-Go-Round (Dublin: Blackwater Press), p. 119. 44 Eamon Delaney (2001) An Accidental Diplomat: My Years in the Irish Foreign Service, 1987–1995 (Dublin: Mercier), p. 344. 45 ‘Prime Minister: Joint Declaration issues by Prime Minister Rt Hon John Major MP and Taoiseach Albert Reynolds TD’, Cmnd. 2442 (London 1994). 46 Duignan (2005) One Spin (Dublin: Blackwater Press), p. 144. 47 Speech by the Prime Minister [Tony Blair] at the Royal Ulster Agricultural Show Belfast, 16 May 1997; www2.nio.gov.uk/speeches.htm. 48 ‘The Belfast Agreement: agreement reached in multi-party negotiations’, Cmnd. 3883 (London, 1998); for a detailed narrative of the negotiations, see Thomas Hennessey (2000) The Northern Ireland Peace Process: Ending the Troubles? (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan). 49 See Neumann, Britain’s Long War, pp. 167–171. 50 Marjorie Mowlam (2002) Momentum (London: Hodder & Stoughton), p. 164. 51 Northern Ireland Secretary Patrick Mayhew; HC, Vol. 233, c. 794, 29 November 1993. 52 Quentin Thomas, interview with author, 20 February 2002. 53 Mowlam, Momentum, pp. 220–221, 227.

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54 See Peter R. Neumann (2002) ‘The Imperfect Peace: Explaining Paramilitary Violence in Northern Ireland’, Low-Instensity Conflict and Law Enforcement, 11:1, pp. 118–120. 55 See Independent Monitoring Commission (IMC) (2004) First Report by the Independent Monitoring Commission (London: HMSO), p. 14. 56 See ‘Tony Blair’s pledge to the people of Northern Ireland’, http://cain.ulst.ac.uk/ events/peace/docs/tb20598.htm; letter written by Tony Blair to David Trimble, http://cain.ulst.ac.uk/events/peace/docs/tb100498.htm. 57 Ronnie Flanagan, quoted in David McKittrick, ‘Documents that prove the IRA is still active dissolved’, Independent, 20 April 2002. 58 John Mullin, ‘Mandelson jolts Unionists with Dublin spectre’, Guardian, 6 October 2000. 59 According to the 2001 Northern Ireland Life and Times Survey; see Northern Ireland Political and Social Archive (ARK); www.ark.ac.uk/nilt/2001/Community_Relations/PEACE.html. 60 David McKittrick, ‘Does peace have a chance?’, Independent, 7 February 1999. 61 Martin Meehan, interview with author, 3 December 2003.

9

Northern Ireland terrorism The legal response Austen Morgan

Introduction The related problems of Republican and Loyalist violence in Northern Ireland from 1970 to 1997 (but continuing), met with a legal response from the United Kingdom (‘UK’) state. Initially, it was the devolved Northern Ireland administration in Belfast, which exercised legislative powers. But, from 1972, until late 1999 (and beyond), the central government in London had full responsibility for countering Northern Ireland terrorism. Consideration should also be given to the Republic of Ireland (‘ROI’), which played an ambiguous role in responding to Republican violence in Northern Ireland. The response of the UK, in varying relations with the ROI, was, throughout, politically led. There were almost always administrative and legislative reforms, addressing grievances. But, ultimately, it is the duty of the state to guarantee internal, as well as external, security. Belfast, but mainly London, sought to modify the administration of justice, thereby impacting on the principle of the rule of law. There was a succession of emergency legislative measures, which are the subject of this chapter. I will argue: one, the UK’s response throughout was reactive and pragmatic (and not the aggressive and imperialist oppression of Catholic Nationalist propaganda heavily subsidised by post-1960s international leftism); two, there were undoubtedly errors, but more in Great Britain than in Northern Ireland; and three, the contribution of the Northern Ireland human rights community was in the main unprincipled, being either covertly pro-Republican or, in the case of a secular current, based on the romance of selective people struggling.

Political violence during the Northern Ireland troubles The greatest abusers of human rights in Northern Ireland in the 30 years of the ‘troubles’ were, not the police and army, but Republican and Loyalist terrorists. Perplexingly, the basic facts are not generally appreciated.1 According to the monumental volume, Lost Lives, edited by David McKittrick and colleagues, and published in 1999 (and updated in 2004 and 2006/7), 3,720 people died in the ‘troubles’, from 1966 to 2006 (a moving end point). The largest category is persons killed by Republican (mainly IRA) terrorists:

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2,152 or 57.8 per cent. The second largest is killings perpetrated by Loyalist paramilitaries: 1,112 or 29.9 per cent. The security forces combined were responsible for 361 deaths: 9.7 per cent2 (in 2001, the European Court of Human Rights held, given there had been only four successful convictions for excessive use of force, that only that number had been unlawful3). It is therefore the position that the vast majority of deaths – at least 87.7 per cent – are attributable to illegal terrorist organisations; less than 10 per cent were the responsibility of the state. Most of the latter would have been as a result of force that was no more than was absolutely necessary.4 Almost all (if not all) of the former will have amounted to the abuse of the right to life under Article 2 of the European Convention on Human Rights. Republicans sloganise that there should be no hierarchy of deaths. There is. There are those lawfully, and then unlawfully, killed by the state. There are then those – almost certainly all – unlawfully killed by Republican and Loyalist terrorists. The Republicans seek to obscure their responsibility by talk of state killings (and of the autonomous role of loyalism by referring to collusion). A new hierarchy is created: at the top are the victims of state killings, especially those who warrant an (international) judicial inquiry; there follow all the rest – including the 2,152 Republican victims whose killers are unlikely to be pursued for fear of the contemporary peace process roles of Gerry Adams and Martin McGuinness being jeopardised.

Northern Ireland, 1920s to 1960s Northern Ireland – six of Ireland’s 32 counties – is not, and never has been, a state or, pejoratively, a statelet. From 1801, it was an integral part of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. It then – on 6 December 1922 – became a part of what became the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland (the state variously referred to by Gordon Brown as Britain and George Bush as Great Britain).5 Northern Ireland as a devolved administration saw the light of legislative day on 23 December 1920, when the Government of Ireland Act (‘GOIA’) 1920 received royal assent. This ordinary act of the UK parliament partitioned the lesser island between Northern Ireland and Southern Ireland, with subordinate administrations based in Belfast and Dublin. The first Northern Ireland government – led by Sir James Craig – took office on 3 May 1921. The seat of government was Stormont on the outskirts of Belfast. The Ulster Unionists had what they had never sought, namely the first devolved administration within the centralised UK state. Their principal preoccupation was the struggle between Sinn Féin/IRA6 and the London government throughout Ireland; they sought to immunise what they continued to call Ulster from the Anglo-Irish conflict. Few noted that the seeds of destruction of Northern Ireland 50 years later had been sown in the form of a Catholic minority, about a third of the population, inevitably located on the wrong side of the new Irish border.

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A great deal of the responsibility for what happened in Northern Ireland must be shared by London and Dublin, by the UK as the sovereign power and by the new Irish state because of its later irredentism – based on the imagined community of an all-Ireland nation. Southern Ireland became the Irish Free State (with dominion home rule), and statehood was achieved in international law by probably the mid-1920s. The Irish Free State had a written constitution from 6 December 1922. The ‘Free Staters’ respected the so-called 1921 treaty, between the UK government and Sinn Féin, as fundamental Irish law. When the Northern Ireland parliament declined to join the Irish Free State, Dublin agreed with London and Belfast in 1925 to recognise Northern Ireland as an integral part of the UK. This was to reckon without the civil war losers, who would soon be mobilised by Eamon de Valera’s Fianna Fáil party. He came to power in 1932, intent upon undermining the 1921 ‘treaty’. He achieved his external association with Bunreacht na hÉireann (literally, constitution of Ireland) in 1937. It amounted to a legal revolution (on a narrow plebiscite vote), with new senior judges and a new judicial oath. Articles 2 and 3 – ignoring the 1925 agreement – constituted a territorial claim over Northern Ireland, based on the concept of Ireland as a ‘national territory’. Republicanism was concretised in southern constitutionalism. This allowed de Valera to repress the IRA, especially when it jeopardised the Free State’s neutrality during the Second World War. However, verbal Republicanism became part of Irish diplomacy, especially during the barren 1950s in the ROI. De Valeraism was still dominant in 1968, when the civil rights movement began in Northern Ireland. The GOIA 1920 had given the Northern Ireland parliament ‘the power to make laws for the peace, order, and good government of . . . Northern Ireland’.7 All powers were transferred, except those expressly excluded (plus reserved matters, intended for any all-Ireland parliament created by consent between the two subordinate administrations). The nature of devolution determined what the Unionist-dominated provincial government could enact and what it could not do. Northern Ireland’s emergency legislation took the form of the Civil Authorities (Special Powers) Acts (Northern Ireland) 1922–1943 (the so-called special powers act). Temporary provisions assumed a more permanent character. However, this took time: the 1922 Act had to be renewed annually; in 1928, it was given a life of five years; only in 1933 was it made permanent. This was because of the failure of the IRA to fade away. There was also a series of special powers regulations. These were related to the various IRA campaigns against Northern Ireland – in the early 1920s, late 1930s and 1956–1962. Such Unionist measures, looked at from the point of view of a lawyer, represent considerable continuity with Westminster’s legislative efforts – the series of coercion acts beginning in 1763 and ending in 1920 – in pre-partition Ireland. The Stormont government did not resort to emergency legislation with gusto. The Criminal Procedure Act (Northern Ireland) 1922 provided for special courts

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(without juries). It expired in 1923, having never been used by ministers. (Juryless courts, however, would return, courtesy of the British, in 1973.) Specific public order legislation also existed, post-dating that in England and Wales: the Public Order Act (Northern Ireland) 1951; Flags and Emblems (Display) Act (Northern Ireland) 1954. The problem was sectarian confrontation, though the law appeared biased towards loyalism and against Republicanism.

The start of the ‘troubles’, 1968–1972 It took less than four years to bring down Stormont. This had not been the intention of the civil rights movement. However, the dynamic of minority politics was anti-Unionist, even if they did not explicitly state this. This period was one of reform in: policing;8 the prosecution system;9 electoral law;10 local government;11 housing;12 community relations;13 and accountability.14 The NI parliament enacted no less than six measures in 1969. The civil rights movement achieved its objectives, and more, in a relatively short time. But the Stormont government – under successively Captain Terence O’Neill, Major James Chichester-Clark and Brian Faulkner – had to deal with large civil rights marches and outbreaks of communal violence: the Protection of the Person and Property Act (Northern Ireland) 1969, passed on 3 December 1969 and dealing with petrol bombs; the Public Order (Amendment) Acts (Northern Ireland) 1970–1971; Criminal Justice (Temporary Provisions) Act (Northern Ireland) 1970, providing for a state of emergency from 30 June 1970; Criminal Justice (Temporary Provisions) (Amendment) Act (Northern Ireland) 1970; Prevention of Incitement to Hatred Act (Northern Ireland) 1970; Payment for Debt (Emergency Provisions) Act (Northern Ireland) 1971. The army, which had not been used in NI from 1921, came to the aid of the civil power in August 1969, first in Londonderry and then in Belfast. London became more closely involved. Internment followed in August 1971. In March 1972, Brian Faulkner resigned when Ted Heath, the UK Prime Minister, told him that Stormont would no longer have control of the police or army.

Northern Ireland under direct rule, 1972– The principle of the GOIA 1920 had been the withdrawal of London from Irish affairs. In 1972, the UK government was forced to accept that sovereignty required taking responsibility in Northern Ireland through direct rule. This continuing period was to be interrupted by attempts at devolution based on power-sharing (now inclusion) with an Irish (plus east-west) dimension: the so-called Sunningdale experiment in early 1974; the Anglo-Irish agreement of 1985, providing for consultation with the ROI; and the 1998 Belfast Agreement, which, since 2 December 1999, saw the Northern Ireland assembly suspended for longer than it exercised devolved powers. The years 1970 to 1997 were those of the IRA’s ‘long war’. Stormont security policy had been the excuse for the campaign. When Sinn Féin and the IRA

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split in 1969/70, the so-called provisionals opted for ‘national war’ despite the sectarian faultline in Northern Ireland. They continued it under the premierships of Ted Heath, Harold Wilson (again), James Callaghan, Margaret Thatcher and John Major. ‘War’ (as they referred to their terrorist campaign) got them nowhere, although they inflicted a great deal of damage on persons and property. The Catholic community suffered directly and indirectly. The breakdown of the ceasefires of 1972 (Whitelaw) and 1974–1975 (Wilson) was attributable to the IRA’s revolutionary fundamentalism. The end of the 1994–1996 ceasefire – on the spurious ground that John Major had ‘binned’ the Mitchell principles – was more strategic: the docklands (not Canary Wharf) bomb was designed to put manners on the UK government (and evidently did so). It is preposterous – as the late Joe Cahill claimed – to assert that the IRA won the ‘war’. The objective of Republicans remains a separate Irish state (outside the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation and presumably involving withdrawal from the European Union). Their goal has not been achieved. However, it is less easy to prove that the UK government won, given the way the peace process has turned out. The Belfast Agreement was made between the Irish state and the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. It was about devolution, with the institutions of 1921–1972 fattened up and expanded. However, the emphasis upon police and justice reform since 1998, and the rhetorical prominence of the Republicans’ human rights and equality agendas, creates the impression – in the minds of Catholics because of the behaviour of Protestants – that the pass has been sold (and that Paisley unionism is moving alongside Trimble unionism). From 1972 and through the 1990s, the UK government legislated against terrorism in two ways: specific Northern Ireland law; and general UK law (as a result of the spread of the IRA’s war to the mainland). The specific Northern Ireland legislation is: the Detention of Terrorists (Northern Ireland) Order 1972, made on 1 November 1972, providing for commissioners and a detention appeal tribunal; the Northern Ireland (Emergency Provisions) Act 1973, including the juryless courts recommended by Lord Diplock (a law lord).15 This act repealed Stormont’s special powers act. It also abolished capital punishment for murder; the Northern Ireland (Emergency Provisions) (Amendment) Act 1975, following a report by Lord Gardiner (the former Lord Chancellor); the Northern Ireland (Emergency Provisions) Act 1977, increasing sentences; the Northern Ireland (Emergency Provisions) Act 1978, a consolidating measure; the Northern Ireland (Emergency Provisions) Act 1987, following a report by Sir George Baker; the Northern Ireland (Emergency Provisions) Act 1991, re-enacting with amendments; the Northern Ireland (Emergency Provisions) Act 1996, again re-enacting (this act was due to expire on 24 August 1998); and the Northern Ireland (Emergency Provisions) Act 1998. The Northern Ireland (Emergency Provisions) Act 1998 was enacted on 8 April 1998 (two days before the Belfast Agreement). The power to intern – executive detention – was repealed. The act also extended the emergency provisions legislation to 24 August 2000 (by postponing the expiry of the 1996 act),

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and dispensed with the need for the annual continuation debate (during which the Labour Party, when in opposition, had come out against renewal).16 To this must be added the UK legislation, which also applied to Northern Ireland: the Prevention of Terrorism (Temporary Provisions) Act 1974, passed on 29 November 1974 following the Birmingham pub bombs. It provided for the proscription of organisations in Great Britain, and exclusion from there (to Northern Ireland) or from the UK to effectively the ROI. It also allowed for detention for 48 hours, followed by five days if supported by the Secretary of State; the Prevention of Terrorism (Temporary Provisions) Act 1976, reenacting; the Prevention of Terrorism (Temporary Provisions) Act 1984, following a review by Lord Jellicoe, again re-enacting; the Prevention of Terrorism (Temporary Provisions) Act 1989, following a review by Lord Colville of Culross; the Criminal Justice and Public Order Act 1994; and the Prevention of Terrorism (Additional Powers) Act 1996. The anti-terrorist legislative framework for NI – at the time of the Belfast Agreement – was constituted by: the Northern Ireland (Emergency Provisions) Act 1996, as extended by the 1998 act (‘the EPA’); and the Prevention of Terrorism (Temporary Provisions) Act 1989 plus the Prevention of Terrorism (Additional Powers) Act 1996 (‘the PTA’). Emergency legislation had three main aspects: proscription by the Secretary of State of terrorist organisations, with related crimes; specific offences connected with terrorism; and police powers. An interesting historical question arises regarding the use of Diplock courts in NI, but not in GB. In three decades of violence, the Republican movement and its fellow travellers never convincingly alleged a miscarriage of justice concerning a Catholic defendant. Might this have been because the Diplock system: led to judges sitting alone having to give written reasons for conviction or acquittal; and the automatic right of appeal on legal and factual grounds? In GB, in contrast, where Republican terrorists always had juries (and defence lawyers), we had the famous miscarriages of justice cases discussed further below.

The Belfast Agreement This international agreement,17 between the UK and Irish states (which also has an unenforceable political face), contains a section on security. It envisages ‘a normalisation of security arrangements and practices’ in NI. The most important paragraph in this section may be quoted in full: 2. The British Government will make progress towards the objective of as early a return as possible to normal security arrangements in Northern Ireland consistent with the level of threat and with a published overall strategy, dealing with: (i) the reduction of the numbers and role of the Armed Forces deployed in Northern Ireland to levels compatible with a normal peaceful society; (ii) the removal of security installations;

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(iii) the removal of emergency powers in Northern Ireland; and (iv) other measures appropriate to and compatible with a normal peaceful society. The commitment regarding emergency legislation is clear, but it is contained in a context: the goal of security normalisation (which does not mean no security); the idea of progress on a number of fronts, but also of a level of threat persisting (paragraph 3 of the section expressly providing for ‘any continuing paramilitary activity’).

Anti-terrorist legislation after the Belfast Agreement The UK government meant what it said in the Belfast Agreement about emergency legislation. However, the idea was to have permanent legislation against all terrorism, a plan that had been worked on for some time. The result was the Terrorism Act 2000. To this scenario, however, must be added the unpredictability of terrorism, both Irish and international. The former occurred before the enactment of the Terrorism Act 2000; the latter afterwards. Irish terrorism – in the form of the Omagh bomb of 15 August 1998 by the Real IRA, which resulted in the deaths of 29 people plus two unborn children – led to the recall of parliament and the passing, on 4 September 1998, of the Criminal Justice (Terrorism and Conspiracy) Act 1998. (There was similar, synchronised, legislation in the ROI.) The problem for London (but not Dublin) was the repeal of the power to intern in the UK two days before the Belfast Agreement. The government in London was unwilling to revisit that option even in the wake of the Omagh bomb. The Omagh act (as it may be called) further amended the PTA and EPA. It made admissible in court – in Great Britain and in Northern Ireland – evidence of a police superintendent that an individual belonged to a proscribed organisation (which was also specified under section 3(8) of the Northern Ireland (Sentences) Act 1998). It also permitted inferences from silence to be drawn. The act had retrospective effect as regards arrest and detention. The secretary of state was to report to parliament every 12 months on the working of the act (as with the PTA, which required to be renewed annually). There were no convictions in connection with the new provisions – police officer’s evidence, and inferences from silence – in the year of enactment or the following year. International terrorism – for example 9/11 – involving the deaths of thousands of people at the hands of Al Qaeda in New York, Washington and Pennsylvania on 11 September 200118 – led to the Anti-terrorism, Crime and Security Act 2001 (enacted on 14 December 2001). It amended the – permanent – Terrorism Act 2000. Part 4 provided for the certification of suspected international terrorists by the secretary of state. Section 23 permits detention under immigration legislation, when removal or departure from the UK is prevented by human rights considerations. Appeal against certification is permitted, however, to the

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Special Immigration Appeals Commission. These powers were due to expire finally on 10 November 2006. The Terrorism Act 2000 originated in an inquiry conducted by Lord Lloyd of Berwick, a law lord, which reported in October 1996.19 Lord Lloyd recommended new, permanent counter-terrorism legislation. Following the election of ‘new’ Labour in May 1997, there was an internal review of all emergency legislation (throughout the UK). A consultation paper, Legislation against Terrorism,20 was published eventually in December 1998. It was presented to parliament by the Home Secretary and by the Secretary of State for Northern Ireland. The consultation paper distinguished Irish terrorism (a concept which seems to have escaped criticism by the Irish government) from international terrorism but also from domestic terrorism (that is, in Great Britain, a concept which appears to have been overlooked by Ulster Unionists). The terrorism bill was introduced finally in the House of Commons on 2 December 1999 (the day devolution commenced in Northern Ireland). It was the responsibility of the home office and the Northern Ireland Office (‘NIO’). The Terrorism Act received the royal assent eventually on 20 July 2000. It contains a new and fuller definition of terrorism: (1) . . . the use or threat of action where – (a) the action falls within subsection (2), (b) the use or threat is designed to influence the government or to intimidate the public . . ., and (c) the use or threat is made for the purpose of advancing a political, religious or ideological cause. (2) Action falls within this subsection if it – (a) involves serious violence against a person, (b) involves serious violence to property, (c) endangers a person’s life . . ., (d) creates a serious risk to the health or safety of the public . . ., or (e) is designed seriously to interfere with or seriously disrupt an electronic system. (3) The use or threat of action falling within subsection (2) which involves the use of firearms or explosives is terrorism whether or not subsection (1)(b) is satisfied. . . . The Terrorism Act 2000 repeals the PTA (applying in GB), re-enacting and amending main provisions on a permanent basis. The EPA (applying in Northern Ireland) was to be repealed on 24 August 2000 (in fact, 19 February 2001). In those formal senses, parliament provided for the end of emergency legislation. It was, of course, re-enacted in permanent form. However, Northern Ireland remained exceptional. Part VII re-enacted Northern Ireland’s emergency legislation for a maximum of five years (until 19 February 2006). The problem was only finally resolved in 2007: Terrorism (Northern Ireland) Act 2006; and the Justice and Security (Northern Ireland) Act 2007, which received the royal assent on 24 May 2007. The Terrorism Act 2000 extends to the whole UK. It provides principally for proscribed organisations, terrorist property, terrorist investigations and counterterrorist powers. Part VII on Northern Ireland was the only particular antiterrorist legislation in force. It provided especially for scheduled offences,

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powers of arrest and specified organisations (under the Northern Ireland (Sentences) Act 1998). Under the Justice and Security (Northern Ireland) Act 2007, Part VII of the 2000 Act is to be replaced – from 31 July 2007 – with permanent Northern Ireland legislation enacted at Westminster.

The ROI It is always useful to compare the Irish with the UK government, something that rarely happens in Northern Ireland. Both are liberal democracies, and member states of the European Union.21 Such comparison is especially appropriate when it comes to emergency legislation. The conclusion is inescapable: the Irish have been more authoritarian than the UK in suppressing threats to public order and the institutions of the state. The constitution of the Irish Free State, drafted in Dublin but legislated in London, made no provision for national emergencies. The new government fought the civil war of 1922–1923, justifying martial law (including internment) on the basis of common law principles.22 In 1931, after several years of political stability, the Oireachtas (the Irish parliament) enacted the Constitution (Amendment No. 17) Act 1931. This draconian law was a public safety measure. It inserted a new article 2A in the constitution, making the rest of the text subject to its provisions. These included a military tribunal, which could impose a death penalty from which there was no appeal. Its validity was upheld by the supreme court in December 1934: The State (Ryan) v Lennon [1935] IR 170. In the successor state, Bunreacht na hÉireann came into operation on 29 December 1937. The declaration of emergency made in September 1939 – under article 28.3.3 of the constitution – continued until 1976. The Offences Against the State Act 1939 was passed in anticipation of war in Europe, and amended by the Offences Against the State (Amendment) Act 1940. The former provided for a special criminal court. This lasted until 1962, and was reactivated in 1972. It continues to exist. The latter allowed for internment. The Irish president referred the 1940 act to the supreme court, where it was upheld as constitutional. This means that internment is most unlikely to be challengeable as contrary to the Irish constitution. The ‘troubles’ in Northern Ireland led to the Offences Against the State (Amendment) Act 1972. This included the provision that where a police chief superintendent gave evidence that he believed ‘the accused was at a material time a member of an unlawful organisation, the statement [should] be evidence that he was such a member’.23 The killing of the UK ambassador to the ROI led to the Emergency Powers Act 1976. It provided for seven days’ detention following arrest for a scheduled offence. The president also referred this to the Supreme Court, and it was upheld as constitutional. The Offences Against the State (Amendment) Act 1985 provided for the forfeiture of bank accounts. The Offences Against the State Acts 1939–1985 were, and are, a formidable statutory framework, with constitutional underpinning, and the support of the courts. Yet the IRA came to accept the ROI, in the sense that, in order to

166 A. Morgan maintain its headquarters there, it would not overtly wage war on Irish soldiers and police. The position in Northern Ireland was, and is, very different. The Civil Authorities (Special Powers) Acts (Northern Ireland) 1922–1943, the EPA/PTA of the 1970s to 1990s and the Terrorism Act 2000 were, and are, arguably much more proportionate, given that the IRA wants to end British rule in Northern Ireland. To the list of Irish emergency legislation must be added the Offences Against the State (Amendment) Act 1998, which is renewable annually. This was rushed through the Oireachtas in the wake of the Omagh bomb of 15 August 1998. It was the first time the Irish state had so legislated in the wake of a Northern Ireland atrocity. The reason was the Belfast Agreement, the Irish government having a vested interest in making it work. The 1998 act includes provisions dealing with membership of an unlawful organisation, the right to silence, the creation of five new offences, increased powers of detention (up to four days), unlimited fines and the forfeiture of property. The minister for justice claimed that the bill was consistent with the constitution, and the state’s international human rights obligations. The Irish state was unable to use its internment powers in the 1940 act, because – irony of ironies – while Dublin was providing legitimacy for legislation in London, the UK feared legislating for internment having just removed it from the Northern Ireland statute book. The Irish state was slow to respond legislatively to 9/11. In the wake of the attacks on 11 September 2001, the EU issued a decision providing for a coordinated approach to the threat of terrorism.24 The Criminal Justice (Terrorist Offences) Bill was presented to the Oireachtas on 16 December 2002. It amends the Offences Against the State Acts 1939–1998. The bill was referred to a select committee, where it was amended. It went through final stages in Dáil Éireann, the Lower House, on 14 December 2004, and on to Seanad Éireann, the Upper House. The act was promulgated on 8 March 2005. The security section of the Belfast Agreement also imposed an obligation on the Irish state. It was to: ‘. . . initiate a wide-ranging review of the Offences Against the State Acts 1939–1985 [the 1998 act not then being enacted] with a view to both reform and dispensing with those elements no longer required as circumstances permit’. No time scale was mentioned. It began quietly on 22 July 1999. Its chairman was the Hon. Mr Justice Anthony Hederman (retired). Other committee members were: Prof William Binchy; Prof Dermot Walsh, Dr Gerard Hogan SC; and Eamonn Leahy SC.25 The committee – which was not independent – also included two representatives of the police, and a substantial body of officials.26 9/11 occurred as the committee was finalising its report. Though it had been asked to also consider international terrorism, it decided not to reopen the report. It envisaged ‘significant change to the law on terrorism in Ireland’ as a result of UN and EU proposals.27 The review of the Offences Against the State Acts 1939–199828 went to the minister for justice in May 2002, and was published eventually on 2 August 2002. The committee was split. Mr Justice Hederman, with Profs Binchy and

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Walsh, constituted a minority generally favouring the repeal of emergency legislation. The police and the department of justice wanted to maintain the existing legislative framework. The majority favoured re-enacting in the form of permanent legislation with reforms (effectively copying the UK). Internment would stay. So would the special criminal court. The government could continue to proscribe organisations, membership being a criminal offence. The committee divided on whether detention should be increased from 48 to 72 hours. There should only be inferences from silence if the accused had access to legal advice. There was no response from the Irish government following the publication of the report.

Miscarriages of justice One of the risks of emergency legislation is the conviction of innocent persons (which also happens under the normal criminal law). The Police and Criminal Evidence (‘PACE’) Act 198429 has done a great deal to improve police performance, though PTA investigations – in the late 1980s – were to lack some of the PACE safeguards. In NI, there is one well-known miscarriage of justice case, that of the ‘UDR 4’.30 This involved, not innocent Catholics accused of IRA crimes, but four local British army soldiers in the Ulster Defence Regiment. They were accused of killing a Catholic, and brother of a Sinn Féin councillor, Adrian Carroll, in Armagh city in 1983; they were sentenced to life imprisonment in 1986. The Northern Ireland court of appeal released three of the four in 1992 (after nine years in prison). The fourth, Neil Latimer, was released on licence in 1998 after 14 years, following a recommendation of the life sentence review board. He has failed so far to clear his name, despite a third appeal in 2004 after a criminal cases review commission referral. The famous miscarriage of justice cases (supposedly delegitimising British rule, according to Republicans) all relate to England: •

•

Judith Ward:31 following the bombing of a coach on the M62 travelling to an army barracks on 4 February 1974, in which nine soldiers and a woman and her two children were killed, an English woman, Judith Ward, from Stockport (who had been living with the two IRA members responsible), was convicted at Wakefield on 4 November 1974. She was sentenced to life imprisonment, with a recommendation of 30 years. She was released on bail on 11 May 1992, having served 18 years in prison. Her conviction was quashed by the court of appeal later that month: R v Ward (1993) 96 Cr. App. R. 1; the Guildford Four:32 following bombs in pubs in Guildford on 5 October 1974 and Woolwich on 7 November 1974, in which respectively five and two people were killed, three men from Northern Ireland and one young English woman were convicted at the Old Bailey on 22 October 1975. They were sentenced to life imprisonment, with recommendations as to how long

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A. Morgan they should serve. These convictions were quashed by the court of appeal eventually on 19 October 1989; the Maguire Seven:33 this case is related to the one above. Following the arrest of Gerry Conlon (one of the Guildford Four), his father, Guiseppe Conlon, visited London from Belfast. He stayed with his brother-in-law, Patrick Maguire, and his family,34 in Harlsden. They were all arrested on 3 December 1974. Seven members were convicted at the Old Bailey on 4 March 1976. They were sentenced to varying terms for possession of nitroglycerine. Guiseppe Conlon died in prison on 23 January 1980.35 The other six served their sentences, the last – Anne Maguire – being released on 22 February 1985. In October 1989, Sir John May was appointed to inquire into the convictions of the Guildford Four and the Maguire Seven. He reported on the latter in 1990 and 1992,36 and on the former in 1994 (following the trial of three police officers resulting in acquittal).37 The Maguire 7 convictions (having been recommended for referral to the court of appeal by Sir John May) were quashed on 26 June 1991: R v Maguire (1992) 4 Cr. App. R. 133; the Birmingham Six:38 following the Birmingham pub bombs on 21 November 1974, in which 21 people were killed and 162 injured, six men (all from Northern Ireland) were convicted at Lancaster on 15 August 1975 on 21 counts of murder each. They were each given 21 life sentences. The court of appeal quashed these convictions eventually on 14 March 1991: R v McIlkenny and Others (1992) 93 Cr. App. R. 285.

A number of points may be made about these cases. One, the IRA was responsible for the bombings, which led to the arrests (though only members of the Maguire family have stated that clearly over the years). Two, the IRA campaign in England produced a popular reaction evocative of the wartime blitz spirit.39 Three, there was less scepticism about the police in the mid-1970s than today. Four, there was more uncritical acceptance of forensic evidence. Five, the police tended to treat intelligence evidence as definitive. There was a great deal of group think (people conformed to collectively acceptable interpretations and failed to challenge consensus often enough). Six, the defendants all had normal trials.40 Seven, they were defended by solicitors and barristers. Eight, juries convicted the defendants. And nine, the criminal justice system, albeit belatedly and after much pressure from people generally concerned about the convictions, quashed all 18 convictions – releasing the nine men and two women who were due to spend many more years in prison. Some have rebuilt their lives better than others. The compensation (as always) is a poor substitute for years of lost freedom. The only general response should be: to weigh the culpability of the IRA (members of the Balcombe Street gang admitted responsibility for the Guildford and Woolwich bombings) against any failures of the English criminal justice system to learn the lessons necessary to prevent similar miscarriages (perhaps with other ethnic groups) in the future. If the courts of England and Wales got it wrong (initially) in these documented

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cases, it must also be acknowledged that they got it right in a greater number of cases where there were successful terrorist prosecutions (and no campaigns about miscarriage of justice). On 14 March 1991 – after the Guildford Four but before the Maguire Seven – the Home Secretary, contrary to the practice of the Thatcher government, announced a Royal Commission on criminal justice on the day of the quashing of the Birmingham Six convictions. It was to be chaired by Viscount Runciman of Doxford. Among the members was Sir John May, still conducting his separate judicial inquiry into the Guildford Four and Maguire Seven cases. The terms of reference included: police investigations; the role of the prosecutor; the role of experts in criminal proceedings; the arrangements for the defence of accused persons; rules of evidence; powers of the courts; the role of the court of appeal; and allegations of miscarriage of justice after the exhaustion of appeal rights.41 The Royal Commission considered written and oral submissions and conducted its own research. It published its report in a little over two years: Report, Cm 2263, July 1993. There were 352 recommendations, across the range of the criminal justice system. They involved changes of practice and procedure; there was little remaking of institutions, though the criminal cases review commission originated in the report.

The UK at Strasbourg In 1949, the UK helped establish the Council of Europe. The following year, the Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms was agreed. It provided for a European Court of Human Rights (‘ECtHR’), which was established subsequently at Strasbourg. The ECtHR, as a regional international court, allowed state versus state actions. But it also permitted individuals to bring an action against any of the high contracting parties, if the member state of the Council of Europe agreed. In 1966, the UK accepted the right of individual petition and the compulsory jurisdiction of the ECtHR. Between 1966 and the Human Rights Act (‘HRA’) 1998, the UK was subjected disproportionately to over 50 adverse judgments at Strasbourg. This was mainly because of the non-incorporation of the Convention in domestic law. Nine of these cases concerned Northern Ireland. Only some had to do with emergency legislation. These nine cases are: • • • • • • • • •

Republic of Ireland v United Kingdom (1979–80) 2 EHRR 25; Dudgeon v United Kingdom (1982) 4 EHRR 149; Brogan and Others v United Kingdom (1989) 11 EHRR 117; Fox, Campbell and Hartley v United Kingdom (1991) 13 EHRR 157; Brannigan and McBride v United Kingdom (1994) 17 EHRR 539; Margaret Murray v United Kingdom (1995) 19 EHRR 193; McCann and Others v United Kingdom (1996) 21 EHRR 97; John Murray v United Kingdom (1996) 22 EHRR 29; Tinnelly and McElduff v United Kingdom (1999) 27 EHRR 249.

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The UK lost seven; the applicants in Brannigan and McBride and Margaret Murray being unsuccessful. Ireland v United Kingdom was the first inter-state case at Strasbourg, concerning the treatment of internees in Northern Ireland in 1971. The ECtHR held that interrogation techniques had amounted to inhuman and degrading treatment but not torture. Two cases, Dudgeon and Tinnelly were discrimination cases, and not concerned with emergency legislation. McCann related to Gibraltar, where the SAS killed three IRA members planning a bombing. It is not strictly a Northern Ireland case. The remaining three – Brogan, Fox, Campbell and Hartley and John Murray – had to do with emergency arrest and detention powers. In Brogan, the ECtHR held that holding four men for at least four days and six hours, under the PTA, without bringing them before a court, amounted to a violation of article 5 (right to liberty and security). Fox, Campbell and Hartley is an EPA case: the ECtHR held narrowly that there had been a violation of article 5, in that there was an inadequate basis for the suspicion of terrorism.42 John Murray is an article 6 (right to a fair trial) case: the ECtHR held that there had been a violation, in that he had been denied access to a lawyer in the first 48 hours of detention (during which he had exercised his right to silence). None of these amounted to Strasbourg criticising emergency legislation in general, or the PTA and EPA in particular. The UK indeed had made practical or legislative changes in advance of the Ireland and Fox, Campbell and Hartley cases being heard (and subsequently in the case of John Murray). Brief mention may be made of the post-Belfast Agreement Strasbourg jurisprudence on article 2 (right to life), but only as regards procedural, and not substantive, violations: the four cases of Jordan,43 McKerr,44 Kelly and Others and Shanaghan decided on 4 May 2001 (plus McShane on 28 May 200245 and Finucane on 1 July 200346). The security forces in Northern Ireland killed some 361 persons (including Republican and Loyalist terrorists), only four of these killings being held to be unlawful. The McCann case concerning Gibraltar had been a landmark decision in 1995. However, it was not followed as regards Northern Ireland, either before or after the Belfast Agreement. The idea of a procedural violation – because of inadequate investigation of deaths – became established with the four Jordan cases (whether the state was directly or indirectly involved). In McCann, though there had been a substantive violation, the ECtHR had declined to award damages because the three were terrorists. Perversely, Strasbourg awarded damages in the Jordan cases, without giving any reasons. Since the court had waived the time limit for applying, the UK was facing a potential torrent of cases (if the relatives were willing), which had already been decided by Jordan, but where there was entitlement to damages. The House of Lords pre-empted possibly extensive domestic litigation – the application wanted an article 2-compliant investigation of a 1982 death – with In re McKerr [2004] UKHL 12 [2004] 1 WLR 807, holding that killings before 2 October 2000 (when the HRA was brought into force) could not rely upon the Jordan cases (throwing into doubt its earlier decisions: R (Amin) v Secretary of

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State [2003] UKHL 51 [2004] 3 WLR 1169; and R (Middleton) v West Somerset Coroner [2004] 2 WLR 800).

The NI human rights community: an infantile disorder The failure of the UK to incorporate the Convention was a just cause in the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s. But these were also the years of the PIRA’s campaign against British rule in Northern Ireland. They saw the emergence of a human rights community seeking to use so-called international human rights law to challenge the UK (thereby aiding terrorism wittingly or unwittingly). The principal organisation was the Committee on the Administration of Justice (‘CAJ’), founded in Belfast in 1981. ‘When we set up the CAJ’, Steve McBride – a past chairman – recalled, ‘there was a major recognition that what was needed was an independent, objective, organisation which would take an honest, non-partisan stand on issues of human rights in the North’. Speaking in 1995 as justice spokesman of the Alliance Party, he continued: I must say there are some aspects of the CAJ . . . which I would have to say I am frankly disappointed with . . . Do they recognise that the greatest abuse of human rights in Northern Ireland in the last twenty-five years is that carried out by the paramilitary groups . . .?47 On 31 March 1995, the CAJ (with the Irish Council for Civil Liberties in the ROI) made a presentation on human rights to the Forum for Peace and Reconciliation in Dublin Castle. They did not have an easy time. Angela Hegarty, chairperson of the CAJ, spoke for the two organisations. She said regarding emergency legislation: there is no emergency [the IRA had declared a ceasefire on 31 August 1994]. The recent renewal of the Prevention of Terrorism (Temporary Provisions) Act, 1989, is unjustifiable . . . There is no excuse for the continuing existence on the statute book of the operation and practice of emergency laws . . . It has always been our position that there was never any justification for emergency law . . . Since the inception of the Northern Irish State, there has been some form of emergency legislation.48 On 9 February 1996, less than a year after Angela Hegarty spoke, the IRA broke its ceasefire by bombing docklands in London. Following the Belfast Agreement, the Northern Ireland Office (‘NIO’) appointed the first Northern Ireland Human Rights Commission (‘NIHRC’) in early 1999. Prof Brice Dickson of the CAJ was made chief commissioner. There were nine commissioners, including Angela Hegarty. At least half the NIHRC came from the CAJ (indeed the latter even made an application to the Council of Europe on behalf of the former49). Though there was a statutory requirement that the NIHRC should be ‘representative of the community in Northern Ireland’,50

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and the Secretary of State had told parliament that this meant Unionists and Nationalists,51 there was not one commissioner sympathetic to the majority community. The antics of the NIHRC are for another occasion, but the following original commissioners resigned during their terms of office: Angela Hegarty; Inez McCormack and Christine Bell; and Patricia Kelly and Francis McGuinness (though they continued to be treated as members). Patrick Yu, appointed later, also resigned. The Holy Cross dispute in north Belfast in the autumn of 2001 broke the commission, with Inez McCormack and her colleagues subsequently seeking to destroy the NIHRC. The Lord Chief Justice held subsequently that there had been no merit in any of their arguments about human rights and policing.52 By then, an attempt to help the NIHRC had had exactly the opposite effect. Prof Dickson had long complained about inadequate powers. The joint committee on human rights at Westminster, chaired by Jean Corston MP, issued a helpful report on 15 July 2003.53 However, the evidence included a memorandum from Madden and Finucane, Solicitors on Holy Cross.54 With a campaign in the Irish News, it was not long before Nationalists withdrew their support from the broken-backed commission. There was a lesson here for Prof Dickson, but he has given no indication of having learned that dependency on nationalism does not necessarily help promote a genuine human rights culture.

Conclusion The job of legal critics and historians should be the same as that of practitioners throughout the period 1970–1997 (and beyond): namely, the testing of proposed emergency legislation in the context of the time. This chapter has provided only an overview. No final judgment has been made on each provision of each legislative measure, against the background of the defined problem and the effect the legislation had on Republican and Loyalist terrorism. One conclusion should be irrefutable: if the normal criminal law had been sufficient to deal with developing problems, then the governments in Northern Ireland and the UK would have used it to considerable effect. (That should suffice to dismiss the human rights community, with its evasion of reality and proffering of so-called international standards.) Emergency legislation is not contrary to human rights, the UK got a relatively easy ride at Strasbourg in the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s, and – unlike its terrorist opponents – changed its act when it was judicially criticised. A second conclusion is that the UK state will discharge what is the duty of every state, namely guaranteeing internal security (if only out of self interest). The EPA and PTA legislation, from 1973 to 1998, is proof of executive consistency. But this anti-terrorist legal framework was continually revised, suggesting the proportionality (to use a more recent legal concept) of the UK’s actions against principally the IRA in Northern Ireland and Great Britain. The Terrorism Act 2000 (and the Justice and Security (Northern Ireland) Act 2007) showed that counter-terrorism has become a permanent responsibility of governance.

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However, the distinction between Irish terrorism and international terrorism (domestic – Great Britain – terrorism has not been a problem) is a cause for concern. Westminster did legislate after the 1998 Omagh bombing, but, even with cover from Dublin, it could not restore executive detention to the statute book. There was no such inhibition in 2001 after 9/11, and it took over three years for the House of Lords to create legal difficulties.55 The subsequent control orders apply only to international terrorism (even if involving British nationals). Can it be that the political inclusion of Republicans, as well as Nationalists, through the Belfast Agreement, has weakened the will of the UK to guarantee internal security throughout the state? A third conclusion – and perhaps the starkest – is the inconsistency of Irish Nationalists regarding the ROI and the UK. The IRA is not an internal military threat to the Irish state. True, it is headquartered there. No one can be in any doubt about the IRA’s campaign there over the past three decades, and of its understanding of the peace process as one that will take it to a united Ireland. However, the irony is that the UK has used lesser powers in Northern Ireland and Great Britain, than successive Irish governments in the ROI. Internment remains on the statute book. Even after the Belfast Agreement (sanctified as the Good Friday Agreement by the Irish government), Dublin has not been prepared to shift on the priority of its own internal security. Repeatedly, the human rights community, and ordinary Nationalists, overlook this elementary fact, portraying UK law and practice in Northern Ireland as globally reprehensible (rather than in comparison with an Irish state dealing with what it characterises as subversives). The fourth conclusion is that the UK, by and large, observed the rule of law during the Northern Ireland troubles. The issue is not whether parliament enacted or not. It is the view taken by the courts, assuming an independent judiciary (currently under challenge from new Labour’s reforms). One may be more definite about the IRA: it consistently abused the human rights of very many people in the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s. And it has continued to do this under the Belfast Agreement. A lawyer always has a duty to his or her client, but, looking at the IRA’s 30-odd years of war in Northern Ireland, I have no difficulty concluding that helping the IRA was, and is, inimical to the rule of law including human rights. It is too early – like the French Revolution – to draw historical conclusions about UK counter-terrorism in Northern Ireland. If the Belfast Agreement succeeds (a benign scenario), because the Catholic minority integrates and accepts the UK state, with or without united Ireland aspirations, then the IRA’s war will have been seen to have been counter-productive. The UK will have been seen to win. On the other hand – a malignant scenario –, if the Belfast Agreement fails, because the UK tolerated Republican illegality to the point where Unionists and others lost faith in legitimate government, the IRA would not be the victors; the peoples of the UK and the ROI would be the joint losers.

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Notes 1 The two principal sources are: Marie-Therese Fay, Mike Morrisey and Marie Smyth (1999) Northern Ireland’s Troubles (London: Pluto Press); and David McKittrick Seamus Kelters, Brian Feeney and Chris Thornton (1999) Lost Lives (Mainstream Publishing). 2 The human rights community is concerned principally with these victims: Fionnuala Ní Aoláin (2000) Politics from the Blackstuff: The Politics of Force in Northern Ireland, Conflict Management and State Violence in Northern Ireland (Belfast: Blackstaff Press). 3 Jordan v United Kingdom (2003) 37 EHRR 52 paragraph 152. 4 There is no Strasbourg case finding the UK liable for a substantive breach of art 2 in NI. McCann v UK (1996) 21 EHRR 97 concerned Gibraltar (a substantive breach by ten votes to nine). The Jordan, McKerr, Kelly and Others, and Shanighan decisions of 4 May 2001 relate only to a procedural breach (by seven votes unanimously). 5 The names of the UK and Irish states are discussed in chapter 7 of Austen Morgan (2000) The Belfast Agreement: A Practical Legal Analysis (London: Stationery Office Books). 6 Irish Republican Army. 7 Section 4(1). 8 Police Act (Northern Ireland) 1970. 9 Grand Jury (Abolition) Act (Northern Ireland) 1969. 10 Electoral Law Act (Northern Ireland) 1969. 11 Local Government Act (Northern Ireland) 1969; Local Government (Boundaries) Act (Northern Ireland) 1971. 12 Housing Act (Northern Ireland) 1971; Housing Executive Act (Northern Ireland) 1971. 13 Community Relations Act (Northern Ireland) 1969; Ministry of Community Relations Act (Northern Ireland) 1969. 14 Commissioner of Complaints Act (Northern Ireland) 1969; Parliamentary Commissioner Act (Northern Ireland) 1969. 15 The Diplock courts system is not repealed until the relevant sections of the Justice and Security (Northern Ireland) Act 2007 come into force; no doubt, human rights activists will continue to characterise the new system – based on a prosecution certificate requiring a juryless court – as the continuation of Diplock. 16 The act allowed the temporary provisions, in NI and UK legislation, to continue in force until 15 June 1999. The Northern Ireland (Emergency and Prevention of Terrorism Provisions) (Continuance) Order 1999, which came into force on 16 June 1999, further extended the date until 15 June 2000. Schedule 1 of the Terrorism Act 2000 extended the EPA as amended from 16 June 2000 to 24 August 2000. 17 Agreement between the Government of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and the Government of Ireland, Treaty Series No. 50 (2000), Cm 4705. 18 (2004) The 9/11 Commission Report: final report of the national commission on terrorist attacks upon the United States, New York and London. 19 Inquiry into Legislation against Terrorism, Cm 3420. 20 Cm 4178. 21 The UK’s handling of terrorism in NI could most usefully be compared with how principally France, Germany, Italy and Spain dealt with their political violence at the same time. 22 Habeas corpus, for example, was not available during a state of war or armed rebellion. 23 Section 3(2). The special criminal court, however, acquitted if there was denial or controversion: The People (Director of Public Prosecutions) v Ferguson, unreported, 27 October 1975.

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24 Council framework decision of 13 June 2002 on combating terrorism, OJ, L164, pp. 3–7. The framework decision is scheduled to the bill. 25 He had difficulty attending the committee because of his practice, and did not sign the report. 26 Six. 27 Paragraph 1.7. 28 Report of the Committee to Review the Offences Against the State Acts 1939–1998 and Related Matters. 29 In NI, the Police and Criminal Evidence (Northern Ireland) Order 1989. 30 Ian Paisley Jr., Reasonable Doubt: Case for the UDR 4, Cork 1991. 31 Judith Ward (1999) Ambushed: My Story (London: Vermilion). 32 Robert Kee (1989) Trial and Error: The Maguires, the Guildford Pub Bombings and British Justice (London: Hamish Hamilton); Grant McKee and Ros Franey (1988) Time Bomb (London: Bloomsbury); Paul Hill (1991) Stolen Years: Before and After Guildford (London: Corgi); Gerry Conlon (1990) Proved Innocent: The Story of Gerry Conlon of the Guildford Four (London: Penguin). 33 Robert Kee (1989) Trial and Error: The Maguires, the Guildford Pub Bombings and British Justice (London: Hamish Hamilton). 34 Defined widely. 35 On the twenty-fifth anniversary of his death, there was a claim for a public apology by the Prime Minister. 36 Interim Report on the Maguire Case, 1990, HC 556; Second Report on the Maguire Case, 1992, HC 296. 37 Final Report: the Guildford and Woolwich bombings, 1994, HC 449. 38 Chris Mullin (1990) Error of Judgement: the Truth About the Birmingham Bombings, (Co. Dublin: Swords). 39 Mr Justice Donaldson said, in sentencing the Guildford Four: Your crime was not directed at those you killed, it was directed at the community as a whole, every man, woman and child living in this country. You obviously expected to strike terror into their hearts and thereby to achieve your objectives. If you had known our countrymen better, you would have realised it was a vain expectation . . . (Grant McKee and Ros Franey, Time Bomb, p. 297) 40 Sir John May, reporting on the Guildford Four convictions, concluded on the need to warn juries about convicting on the basis of confession evidence (which is subsequently denied):

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Today, in 1994, I would expect such a jury to be warned first that, surprising though it may seem on occasions, accused people do make false confessions. Second, that against the background of a terrorist bombing campaign such as there was in 1974/5, and the consequent public demand for the arrest and conviction of those responsible, there may be pressure on the police to induce persons accused to confess by conduct which is not acceptable. Further, where the police feel certain that they have indeed intelligence, but have little or no admissible evidence to prove their guilt, there may be a strong temptation to persuade those persons to confess. A jury needs to be warned of such a possibility. (Final Report: the Guildford and Woolwich bombings, paragraph 21.17) pp. i–ii. The three were convicted terrorists, and they were questioned about specific terrorist acts. Jordan v United Kingdom (2003) 37 EHRR 52. McKerr v United Kingdom (2002) 34 EHRR 553. McShane v United Kingdom (2002) 35 EHRR 23.

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46 Finucane v United Kingdom (2003) 37 EHRR 29. 47 Forum for Peace and Reconciliation, Report of Proceedings: volume 12: Friday, 31 March 1995, pp. 26–27. 48 Forum for Peace and Reconciliation, Report of Proceedings: volume 12: Friday, 31 March 1995, pp. 13, 23–24, 27 and 40–41. 49 NIHRC minutes, 8th meeting, 9 August 1999. 50 Northern Ireland Act 1998 section 68(3). 51 HC Hansard, 27 July 1998, cols. 59–60. 52 In the Matter of an Application by ‘E’ for Judicial Review [2004] NIQB 35. The judgment is dated 16 June 2004. 53 Work of the Northern Ireland Human Rights Commission, 14th Report, 2002–2003, HL Paper 132 HC 142. 54 Ev 63–7. My evidence was published at Ev 71–3. 55 A and Others v Secretary of State [2004] UKHL 56 [2005] 2 WLR 87. The decision was announced on 16 December 2004.

10 The Royal Ulster Constabulary and the terrorist threat Neil Southern

Due to the fact that, since the birth of Northern Ireland in 1920–1921, the Irish Republican Army (IRA) posed either a latent or actual threat to the state, this threat was reflected in the organisation and structure of the Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC). For example, during the 1930s and in each decade until 1997, RUC officers have been murdered as a result of IRA violence. Indeed, during the ‘troubles’, 302 officers lost their lives, the vast majority of whom were killed by the IRA and other Republican groups. The lethality of the terrorist threat meant that policing in Northern Ireland was prevented from following the style of policing adopted elsewhere in the United Kingdom. In order to protect both themselves and law-abiding citizens from terrorist violence as well as operating effectively in countering terrorism, the RUC evolved into a ‘formidable, militarized security force’ (Weitzer 1985 p. 4 emphasis in original). Indeed, as the ‘troubles’ took hold and IRA attacks intensified in the 1970s, police stations became structurally fortified and mobile patrolling was done in bullet-proof cars and armoured Land Rovers (Ryder, 2000). These measures were considered a proportionate response to the dangerous circumstances in which officers had to function. Yet, in addition to the paramilitary features of policing in Northern Ireland during the conflict, the RUC had to perform the full range of duties associated with normal policing (Brewer and Magee, 1991). Northern Ireland is a deeply divided society wherein disputes over the issue of national identity and state sovereignty ignited political violence (O’Leary and McGarry, 1995). In the context of the legitimacy of the State, while members of the Unionist community viewed the state as legitimate and the outcome of a justifiable act of self-determination, members of the minority Nationalist community took a different view. Hence due to political divisions, many members of the Nationalist community have had an historic problem when it came to supporting the RUC and the structures of policing in Northern Ireland (Ellison and Smyth, 2000). Aogan Mulcahy accounts for the problems that surround policing whenever a comprehensive endorsement of state legitimacy is missing: where state authority is widely disputed, the question of police legitimacy dominates the social and political landscape. The absence of prevailing consensus over constitutional arrangements ensures that state agencies face widespread dissension, opposition and resistance. (Mulcahy 2006, p. 3)

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This has led some commentators to describe the model of policing within which the RUC operated as colonial (McGloin, 2003). But there is inappropriateness about the application of this model to an historic analysis of policing in Northern Ireland: ultimately the source of the RUC’s legitimacy lay in the consent granted by the majority of the citizens of Northern Ireland. Also, the idea of majority consent and moral approval should not be considered to be ethnically specific. The RUC were able to discharge their duties throughout Northern Ireland in a normal fashion before IRA violence rendered this impossible at the beginning of the ‘troubles’ in 1969. Also, the RUC always had Catholic officers although less than the number that had been recommended when the force was formed in 1922. These points also undermine the suggestion that policing in Northern Ireland since the foundation of the state was part of what Ronald Weitzer (1990) describes as purely ‘sectarian security systems’. The IRA always posed a threat to the Northern Irish state and the fact that its members came exclusively from the Nationalist community meant that that community – within which the IRA functioned as a potentially subversive force – always was under the watchful eye of the state. Also, state preparedness for a military offensive by the IRA dictated the need for adequate security legislation in order that the RUC could effectively combat violent subversion. In August 1969 when the Nationalist community of Londonderry mounted a violent challenge to the authority of the state in what became known as the ‘Battle of the Bogside’ (see Kingsley, 1989), the RUC was unprepared for the scale and intensity of the violence that was unleashed. And when intercommunal violence erupted in Belfast in the following days, a shortage of manpower meant that the police were over-stretched and ill-equipped to cope. In order to assist the civil power in the containment of violence, British troops were deployed onto the streets. Government enquiries – the Cameron Commission (1969) and Scarman Tribunal (1972) – into the causes of the conflict, were critical of the RUC’s handling of some of the street demonstrations that occurred during 1968–1969. Similarly, in the wake of the sectarian violence, the Hunt Report (1969) on policing in Northern Ireland suggested changes to the structure and organisation of the RUC. According to Hunt, the RUC was to be disarmed and adopt the characteristics of a civilian police force. Yet Hunt was a touch idealistic in its recommendations for policing in Northern Ireland and certainly failed to account for the political and military ambitions of the IRA. Following the implementation of the Report’s recommendations, the RUC were disarmed. However, the murder of two RUC men in 1970 followed by a further 11 in 1971 at the hands of the IRA, led to a return to paramilitary style policing as an operational necessity in the face of a deliberate campaign by the IRA to target and murder police officers. In essence, a form of English policing could not become the model for policing in Northern Ireland whenever the police and other members of the security forces were considered suitable targets for killing. At the beginning of the conflict and until the mid-1970s the British Army was to the fore in combating terrorism in Northern Ireland. During this period a mili-

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tary solution to the terrorist threat was sought. But the Army’s attempt to counter-terrorism militarily had its drawbacks. For example, the Falls Road curfew of 1970 did more to harden local attitudes against the security forces than it paid a military dividend (Campbell and Connolly, 2003). The introduction of internment without trial in 1971 was neither militarily successful in quelling violence nor a sound political calculation. The ineffectiveness of internment lay in the poor intelligence upon which the arrest of suspected terrorists was based – the intelligence was outdated and lacked accuracy. Politically speaking, internment met with considerable international condemnation, which the British government did not wish to encounter again. Importantly, though, the political will had existed to use internment, which for some of the officers who participated in this research, would have been an effective counter-insurgency strategy if it had have been used in the mid- to late1980s, when intelligence on suspects was both comprehensive and accurate. However, respondents felt that by the mid-1980s there was no political will to introduce a military strategy of this sort. Following the introduction of internment, which greatly alienated members of the Catholic/Nationalist community, the use of lethal force by the Parachute Regiment in Londonderry in January 1972 (Bloody Sunday) further had the effect of increasing Catholic levels of IRA recruitment (O’Brien, 2002). In short, efforts by the military in the early 1970s were incapable of dealing adequately with terrorism that was twofold; first, a style of urban terrorism that was exacting a heavy price on the security forces, and second, the political radicalisation of Nationalist populations whose acquiescence, if not ideological support, facilitated the IRA’s terrorism. Problematically, however, political accommodation between Unionists and Nationalists proved elusive and ended with the collapse of the Sunningdale Agreement and its power-sharing government in 1974 (see Bew and Gillespie, 1993). In the absence of a political agreement the British government embarked upon a new strategy which had profound implications for the RUC and its role in combating terrorism. In an attempt to turn the tide against the terrorist it was decided that the RUC would be in the frontline of counter-terrorism. This policy became known as ‘Ulsterisation’ and introduced the principle of police primacy. The Army would adopt a supportive role to the RUC and provide military backup as Mark Urban comments: The advent of Police Primacy in 1976 – which granted the RUC the authority to direct all security operations, including those of the Army – coincided with a pronounced shift towards the improvement of intelligence-gathering and the establishment of more effective methods for its exploitation. (Urban, 1992, p. 238) The effects of this shift in British policy were considerable: the complement of the RUC would be increased from 5,000 to 13,000 as well as an expansion in the number of the Royal Ulster Constabulary Reserve (RUCR). The RUCR

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comprised both full-time members as well as those who worked on a part-time basis (Mapstone, 1994); professionalisation of the force in terms of intelligence gathering and the use of forensic science; £20 million increase in the budget from £49 million to £69 million, and an attempt to improve the operational effectiveness of the police through the provision of better weapons and a fleet of armoured Land Rovers and armoured patrol cars (Ellison and Smyth, 2000). The increased militarisation of the RUC as a basic requirement of the ‘Ulsterisation’ strategy, constituted a reversal of the demilitarisation recommendations of the Hunt Report. If Northern Ireland had terrorists intent on committing murder and causing destruction, then the police would have to be adequately prepared to meet the challenge. Police primacy was part of the government’s approach to delegitimising Republican violence and rendering the activities of the IRA simply criminal. The fact that British soldiers could be seen throughout Northern Ireland taking on the IRA was inconsistent with a government strategy which desired to undermine the idea that the IRA was locked in a violent military struggle against a colonial force (British Army) whose job it was to enforce foreign political rule. Accordingly, in order to criminalise the IRA it was necessary that the police and the courts to deal with terrorist-related issues. Developments in the legal sphere aided the move toward police primacy: the Northern Ireland (Emergency Provisions) Act 1973 afforded the RUC widespread powers to stop and question, search, and detain those suspected of terrorist involvement. The establishment of Diplock courts consisting of a single judge and no jury, was designed to prevent the legal system being hampered as a result of the intimidation of members of juries and witnesses. Additionally, in the mid-1970s terrorist suspects began to be sent to special RUC holding centres at Castlereagh in Belfast and Gough Barracks in Armagh for interrogation. Many confessions were gained from IRA suspects during this period thus damaging the IRA, but they coincided with an increase in the level of complaints about the RUC’s handling of terrorist suspects (Smyth, 2000). However, with the RUC in the forefront of counter-terrorism, and in increased numbers, so the brunt of IRA violence shifted to focus on them (Moloney and Pollak, 1987).

Territoriality and policing During the early years of the ‘troubles’ the territorial dimension to the conflict took on a stark shape, which impacted on policing. When discussing territoriality and violence it is important to note that not all areas in Northern Ireland had the same experience of conflict (Whyte, 1990) neither was the degree of threat to the RUC evenly spread throughout the province (Brewer, 1990). This said, however, certain parts of Northern Ireland, where the IRA was highly active and exercised a controlling influence, essentially became anti-state areas. Particularly in the urban settings of Belfast and Londonderry, anti-state areas existed near to, or beside, pro-state areas. These areas corresponded to the ethnic

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fracture between Catholic/Nationalist areas which were anti-state, and Protestant/ Unionist areas which were pro-state. During the early years of the ‘troubles’, the demographic consolidation of particular areas was caused by high-levels of population movement (Shirlow, 2003). For example, Belfast witnessed the consequences of a shift of its population (Murtagh, 1996). So also, did the city of Londonderry (Smyth, 1996). The case of Londonderry is especially interesting because of the movement of members of the security forces who had lived on the west bank of the city. Effectively, the west bank of the River Foyle became a strong anti-state area (with the exception of a numerically and geographically small Protestant enclave known as the Fountain). As in places of Belfast – especially in the West and north quarters of the city – this increased the operational capacity of the IRA. These demographic shifts also presented difficulties for the RUC in two specific ways. The first problem was that of how to maintain a security presence and minimise the risk of attack in places of high threat. Second, how could the RUC gather intelligence – especially human sources – in areas that were ideologically opposed to the state and where the RUC was considered to be the physical manifestation of state oppression? Thus the ethnic homogenisation of areas worked to the benefit of the terrorist. Of course, as well as the IRA and other Republican terrorist groups to be concerned about, the RUC had to combat Loyalist paramilitaries like the Ulster Volunteer Force and the Ulster Defence Association. From the perspective of the security forces, Loyalist organisations presented a different type of threat in the sense that as pro-state terrorist groups (see Bruce, 1992; 1993) it was not a policy directive to kill members of the RUC and Army. The pro-state disposition of the Protestant community not only meant that the threat to members of the security forces were significantly reduced, but also that many members of the community would have been prepared to contact the police if something suspicious was occurring in their area. Members of the RUC and especially the RUCR, could live in, or near, hardline Loyalist areas unlike Catholic police officers who would have become immediate and favoured targets of the IRA. As Steve Bruce (1994, p. 125) claims, ‘Catholic RUC men are more popular victims for the IRA than are Protestants in the police’. Also as a result of the policy of ‘Ulsterisation’ and the increase in police personnel, a considerable number of Protestants had members of their wider family circle in the RUC. So, practically speaking, in pro-state areas intelligence gathering did not necessarily have to be technically sophisticated or operationally intensive. The fact that there was an ideological connection (although imperfect for some) with the RUC as the morally acceptable law enforcement agency of a legitimate state, meant that the passing on of information to the police was not impeded by ideological factors. However, in militant Republican areas where popular support for the IRA was strong, the RUC had little by way of community co-operation. This improved the operational capacity of the IRA. Outside of the urban centres of Belfast and Londonderry, the IRA operated with considerable

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effectiveness along the border with the Republic of Ireland, which reflected the vital advantage of ethnic homogeneity and ideological cohesion. Neither was it easy for the RUC to make inroads into such communities despite having a Community Relations branch (Brewer and Magee, 1990). As a matter of priority, the IRA could not afford to allow normal policing to gain a foothold within its territories because, for instance, neighbourhood-style policing would have facilitated the building of inter-personal relationships between RUC officers and members of the local community. Relationship-building between police and community would have rendered members of the community less willing (and emotionally able) to have remained silent about pending IRA operations. The IRA needed as much operational confidence as possible and this would have been seriously undermined by relationship-building between police and community. In areas of high risk, the threat posed by the IRA to the physical safety of police officers in militant Republican areas served to sustain the emotional chasm between police and community. The RUC were heavily armed, patrolled in armoured Land Rovers and had Army backup. Often, a single RUC officer would patrol in the company of around 12 soldiers, thus giving the impression that the Army – the hated ‘Brits’ – was in control of the area. Additionally, the fortifications that RUC stations required in order to withstand a terrorist gun or bomb attack made them appear alien and hostile. The psychological effects of fortified stations and their actual social dislocation from their wider environment should not be underestimated. An appearance of hostility and foreignness was of benefit to the IRA in its quest to ensure the reproduction of anti-RUC attitudes. However, it was never the case that all young Catholics in hardline areas were prepared to become IRA volunteers or supporters. It was, then, necessary for the IRA (and other Republican groups) to capitalise upon every detail and opportunity in order that a sufficient level of alienation vis-à-vis the RUC exist.

Counter-terrorism in urban contexts The 1956–1962 IRA campaign was mainly confined to rural areas. However, from the beginning of the ‘troubles’ in 1969 the IRA engaged in both urban and rural forms of terrorism. This required that RUC officers be trained in urban and rural counter-terrorist techniques. The police officers who participated in this research had experience of working in both types of environment. Although sharing the threat of terrorist attack, each setting presented particular problems for providing security, which necessitated that officers receive training in combating both forms of terrorism. At the paramilitary level of policing in Northern Ireland, the counter-terrorist duties of RUC officers demanded versatility in their working life. One posting might have demanded that an officer discharge his duties in Belfast city centre only to be followed by a posting to a station in a rural setting, or one which required periods of rural patrolling beyond the boundaries of a town. Yet, whether urban or rural, RUC officers faced the fundamental need of terrorists to

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maximise the element of surprise and escape. This demanded constant readiness and appropriate training in order to respond effectively to an attack. Training in the techniques of reaction had to take into account certain environmental factors surrounding the potential for an engagement with the terrorist. Thus, RUC officers received training in both urban and rural counter-terrorist responses from the theory of classroom-based learning to simulated attacks during mock patrol exercises. The IRA’s urban terrorism was able to benefit from certain characteristics of built-up areas (Marques, 2003). In places like Belfast and Londonderry, and more specifically, in certain high risk areas within those cities, two RUC Land Rovers with three men in each would have been accompanied by two Army Land Rovers with a similar number of personnel in each. For example, in the anti-state urban geographies of West Belfast or the west bank of Londonderry, the RUC would not have patrolled without Army back-up. But mobile patrolling in narrow streets degrades the ability of the security forces to respond quickly to an attack. Manoeuvring a heavy vehicle in order to pursue a terrorist is not easy especially if access is impeded either by other vehicles, civilians or blocked by buildings or alleyways which do not permit vehicular access. Mobile patrols were particularly vulnerable to attacks by IRA Active Service Units using handheld RPG-7 rocket launchers. These weapons were reasonably light, manoeuvrable and transportable. This technique allowed the IRA to target a vehicle with an explosive device while at the same time reducing the risk of collateral damage both structural and human. In particular, the rocket was most effective when it struck the less protected parts of an armoured Land Rover, namely, the side, back doors and the front of a vehicle. In an attempt to reduce the risk of this type of attack, it was necessary that vehicles attempt to remain moving hence not offering a terrorist the convenience of striking against a static target. If, for some reason, a mobile patrol became stationary, its occupants would immediately get out and take up safe positions until able to move. Depending on the degree of risk in a particular area, disembarking a vehicle could occur even when a patrol was lodged in a line of vehicles at a set of traffic lights. Mobile patrols were also vulnerable when returning to a station when, awaiting entry, they became momentarily static – the policy was to radio ahead in order that the station’s gates be opened as the vehicles, having reduced speed, approached. One police respondent pointed out that, in terms of one station located in a militant anti-state area, the police had control over a set of nearby traffic lights. As the patrol approached it would contact the station which would then determine that the traffic lights were on ‘green’ in order to ensure that the patrol remained moving. A further strategy to cope with this problem was to deploy foot patrols in the general area in conjunction with mobile patrols. Foot patrols could, if needed, negotiate more effectively some of the challenges presented by the urban terrain if an attack had occurred in the vicinity. Of course, foot patrols in urban contexts were vulnerable to terrorist attack also. In militant anti-state areas like West Belfast, the RUC did not patrol

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without Army accompaniment. A regular foot patrol would often consist of a police officer and around 12 soldiers who were divided into three groups each comprised of four soldiers. The police officer would be part of the central group with the other two groups operating as ‘satellite’ teams and providing security on both flanks. However, sniper attacks and ambushes posed a serious problem because of the multiple places from which an attack could be launched. An attack could be directed from a building above ground or at surface level along a street. However, when it came to planning an escape route, the terrorist had to negotiate the added escape difficulties that elevated fire points a building presented. The terrorist had to ensure his personal escape or the hasty removal of the weapon by another member of the unit – as the security forces closed in. RUC and Army patrols in militant areas also had to develop tactics that attempted to guard against urban ambushes whether they involved attacks by means of guns or bombs. A favoured tactic of the IRA was to lure members of the security forces into a kill zone (Marques, 2003). This was attempted by getting RUC and Army personnel to respond to a phoney incident or investigate a suspicious device only to be confronted with a secondary explosive device which was real and potentially deadly, or become fired upon by a sniper lying in wait. In the case of a secondary device, a terrorist would anticipate where the security forces would be likely to establish their Incident Control Point (ICP) and place the bomb in its vicinity. The security force’s experience of the deadliness of a secondary device occurred in Warrenpoint in 1979, when the IRA attacked a British Army mobile patrol. The units that responded in support of those caught up in the initial attack were then attacked both by gunfire and a large bomb situated where the IRA anticipated the soldiers would take cover. Upon setting up an ICP, RUC officers would then attempt to establish a 25 metre secure zone by checking the area for secondary devices. Alternatively, the terrorist might plan to launch his attack at some point along the route that they anticipate the police and army are likely to take when attempting to attend the scene. An avoidance strategy required knowledge of the physical layout of the area and also knowledge of any terrorist incidents that had previously occurred. This demanded that all past attacks be accurately logged and brought to the attention of new officers serving in the area. Each station had (and has) an incident book which contained this kind of information. Information of previous attacks facilitated the RUC in deciding the route to take, how to approach the central area and where to disembark their vehicles. Officers mentioned that, when nearing the scene, it was sometimes best to approach on foot because this gave them a keener sense of what was going on. It also allowed them to use the difficulties which the urban terrain presented to the terrorist i.e. escape, to the RUC’s advantage. Due to the threat of ambush whether in rural or urban contexts, the RUC had to screen or check each telephone warning. If, for example, a caller reported a car accident, the police would contact the hospital to ascertain if an ambulance had been dispatched and to confirm the authenticity of the accident. While officers recognised that this was not a perfect way for the police respond, it was claimed to be a tactical necessity given the threat presented by the terrorist.

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Police response was always conditioned by the threat that existed in any given area. Thus, the curtailments to a speedy police response and the negative impact that this had on the community was caused by the terrorist. When reviewing the nature of urban terrorism and the threat experienced by the RUC, it is necessary that a city like Belfast be spatially differentiated. The geographical boundaries of the Republican strongholds of most of West Belfast and parts of north Belfast are located little over a mile from Belfast city centre. In these places the threat of terrorist attack was amongst the highest in Northern Ireland and as a result it was too dangerous for officers based at stations in these areas to drive directly to them in their own vehicles. Personal vehicles were not armoured or furnished with bullet-proof glass. As a result, officers would drive to a location in a safer part of Belfast, park their cars, and from there be driven in the customary armoured Land Rover to their respective stations and report for duty. This procedure was intended first, to preclude an attack by the IRA on a police officer as he drove into a dangerous area, and second, to reduce the intelligence gathering capacity of the IRA by denying them the convenience of monitoring the type, colour and number plate of an officer’s car as he accessed or exited a station. Yet, in stations located in other parts of Belfast, officers could report for duty directly because of a significantly reduced level of threat. Although stations might not have been too distant from each other, the difference in the urban threat influenced operational strategy. This presented its own problems when confronting terrorism. For instance, in Republican west or north Belfast, stations were highly fortified and officers were not expected to patrol without the security provided by the Army. Also, patrolling in these areas took place under an emotional condition of constant alertness and readiness for attack. Yet in a police station like north Queen Street which is located in Belfast city centre, RUC officers did not conduct their normal patrols supported by the Army and the station was less fortified. The policy in north Queen Street was for patrols around the city centre normally to consist of three officers. The demand for a more civilian, than paramilitary, style of policing, here, presented its own dangers because the area was still under a reasonably high-level of threat. In 1990, two officers were murdered while returning to the station. A police officer once based at this location referred to this fatal attack. He mentioned how he thought it had been encouraged in that although the policy for officers returning to the station was that they walk one behind the other and at an appropriate distance, on this occasion both officers returned side-by-side thus, it was argued, enabling the terrorist to strike. This was part of the danger that officers faced when they were based in stations that were neither in a high risk area but at the same time were not low risk. In such stations, there was an awkward blending of normal and paramilitary styles of policing. Some officers felt that providing a normal style of policing for too long could make one complacent and encourage a lowering of one’s guard. It was also felt by younger officers who had had experience of working in high risk areas in places like south Armagh that their experience of patrolling with older colleagues in medium risk stations in the likes of south Belfast increased

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their vulnerability to attack. When out on patrol, it was felt that older officers could be complacent about matters of security and generally not to be as alert. At the level of alertness and readiness, such officers preferred their posting in high risk areas where, it was argued, the members of a patrol were better prepared psychologically and physically for an attack. The fact that in dangerous areas the Army was also present added to officers’ senses of security and preparedness for attack. Officers felt that their security was enhanced when accompanied on patrol by the Army because the military were better trained to meet the challenges of terrorism.

Counter-terrorism in rural settings Counter-terrorist measures in a rural setting depended upon the actual location of RUC stations. In the south Armagh region no vehicular patrolling was permitted – it was simply too dangerous. The opportunity for the IRA to plant roadside bombs and culvert bombs was so great and difficult to counter, that the security forces were limited to foot patrols. Also, getting RUC and army personnel along with equipment and supplies to their postings in the south Armagh area could only take place by air. Helicopters operated out of Bessbrook; a safer haven in county Armagh. The key to patrolling in rural areas like south Armagh was to avoid walking along a road and instead walk from field to field. It was also recommended that officers take the least likely or accommodative route to get, for instance, from one field to another. Using an established gap in a hedge could prove deadly. A terrorist would determine the likely point at which a field would be accessed and plant an anti-personnel device accordingly. Thus, uniforms were in constant need of mending or being replaced since patrolling as safely as possible in difficult terrain also implied great wear and tear on clothing and other related forms of apparel. One of the problems with rural patrolling which officers experienced was a lack of immediate backup. Usually an RUC officer would patrol along with about 12 soldiers. Comparatively speaking, officers felt that a clear benefit of urban patrolling, even in militant anti-state areas in Belfast, was the quick response of other RUC or RUC/Army units to an incident. In rural contexts, this sort of support was delayed simply because of the distance. In rural areas aerial support could be called upon, but was often affected by climatic conditions, such as fog, or operational limitations specifically relating to air support, e.g. safe landing areas for helicopters. (One officer even mentioned that it was better to have the RAF in aerial support, rather than the Army, because they were more prepared to negotiate flying in poor weather.) However, if there was a severe deterioration in weather conditions and aerial support was deemed too hazardous for calling, then a patrol would make its way to the nearest police station and not patrol. Alternatively, a patrol would journey to the nearest army hilltop observation post – a structure that had become a common feature of the local border scenery since the mid-1980s. These posts had been strategically built on hilltops

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and offered greatly improved static and electronic surveillance of the rural landscape as well as improving the safety of foot patrols in the area. And both helped in the idea of dominating the local terrain and denying it to terrorists. In terms of planning a gun or bomb attack, the countryside and border areas, unlike the more populated and built up urban ones, meant that the IRA did not have to worry as much about the problem of collateral damage – human or structural. Large amounts of explosives could be used in a bomb attack especially in those rural areas where the police and army thought it safe enough to use mobile patrols. But it was more difficult for gun attacks to be launched at close quarters. The rural scene did not offer the same opportunity for the terrorist to use people as cover in order to strike nor to use them as a shield in order to facilitate his escape. But the threat of sniper attack loomed high for the RUC. In particular, the success of an IRA sniper team along the border in the 1990s led to the deaths of several members of the army and police until the team’s arrest in 1997 (see Harnden, 1999). Consequently, due to the danger posed by snipers it was best to remain moving in order to present the terrorist with a more difficult target. If a stationary position was to be adopted then cover was immediately sought and a crouching or prone position taken, again to reduce the target presented. In regions in south Armagh which were very close to the border with the Republic of Ireland sniping was also facilitated by the ability of a sniper to strike and then beat a hasty retreat across the border, so minimising their chances of being caught (see Dingley, 1998). A gun or bomb attack could also be launched from just within the Irish Republic where counter-terrorist security was considerably slacker, as was the case during the IRA’s gun and bomb attack at Warrenpoint in 1979. Whether urban or rural, if an RUC station was located in anti-state area then it was more vulnerable to attack. At the same time, while the location of these stations in such areas made them easy targets, their actual location was a crucial factor in the IRA’s planning of an attack. The IRA portrayed themselves as protectors and defenders of their community and therefore could not risk damaging an image which they depended upon in order to be granted a necessary degree of popular support. It would, then, have been counterproductive to launch an attack which resulted in Catholic causalities. In this sense, the IRA was concerned lest people from its own areas were injured or killed. Therefore, in places where RUC stations neighboured Catholic houses, a large-scale car bomb attack was a risky option. However, unlike the street protests at the beginning of the ‘troubles’ during which bricks and bottles were thrown at stations followed by handheld explosive devices being thrown over high perimeter fencing, the IRA developed a capacity to make and launch home made mortar attacks. Although the IRA had only limited success in the use of mortars, the lethal effects of this kind of attack – and a demonstration of the IRA’s refinement of this technique – was most evident in 1985 when a 50lb shell struck the roof of a Portakabin™ which was being used as a canteen within the compounds of Newry RUC station. While most of the shells launched in the attack overshot the station, the one which hit its target led to the death of nine officers and injured a further 37, 25 of whom were civilian employees.

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Following this attack all portakabins were removed from stations that were thought to be susceptible to mortar attack. In Newry, for example, all outbuildings were constructed with mortar-proof and blast-proof protection. In terms of operational policy, the incident at Newry dictated that mortar based-plate patrols take place in the vicinity around stations where it was thought a mortar attack could be executed effectively. This was a constant concern of stations that were thought to be under this type of threat and patrolling against mortar attack became routine procedure. The use of rocket attack by the IRA from handheld devices was a tactical compensation for the problems associated with the use of mortars in urban settings. Vulnerable police stations could be fired upon from a passing car or from a relative distance. Accordingly elevated sangers (large barriers) in police stations were fitted with a protective steel grid which was designed to function as a primary shield that would take the explosive force of the rocket. At the same time, ramps were created on the roads outside police stations as were barriers erected, and large metal drums filled with concrete were situated in order to create a chicane effect in order to reduce the speed of approaching vehicles. As the IRA became more technically proficient in its bomb making skills, the security forces had to adapt. In order to strike at a passing mobile or foot patrol, bombs could be detonated either by the more conventional means of command wire, or, by remote control. Both techniques required that the bomber maintain visual contact with the patrol as it approached the kill zone. Devices capable of being detonated by remote control reduced the likelihood of detection as a result of a foot patrol stumbling upon a command wire (although the terrorist made efforts to conceal it). When the technical ability of the IRA developed to the point that bombs could be detonated by radio remote control, joint Army and RUC patrols began to carry radio frequency jamming equipment. These structural defences and operational procedures were adopted by the RUC as the IRA campaign evolved. In a proactive context, uniformed officers were of the opinion that one of the most effective – everyday – operational tactics used by the RUC was the Vehicle Checkpoint (VCP). There were two kinds of VCP: static VCPs in places like border crossings or on the approach to Aldergrove Airport, and ‘snap’ VCPs. In particular, the ‘snap’ VCP had the element of surprise. Officers would decide to set up a vehicle checkpoint for around ten minutes and then move on. The suddenness of the ‘snap’ VCP meant that it greatly increased the risk factor for any terrorist planning an attack. The VCP was a highly effective tactic at the level of preventative policing because it could seriously interrupt the transportation of bombs, arms or personnel. If intelligence suggested that a bomb was in transit, it would only require a few strategically placed VCPs to put a network of roads in a state of gridlock. One officer pointed out that in the case of a bomb having been primed and ticking, an IRA unit stopped in a queue of traffic because of a VCP might abort the mission and its occupants later contact the police as to its whereabouts in order that the bomb – prevented from being planted as planned – be made safe.

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Additionally, a VCP was considered a good means of gathering intelligence. When stopped at a checkpoint, occupants of a vehicle would have to provide identification. Particularly in the case of a known member of the IRA being accompanied by others, it presented a good opportunity for gathering intelligence on them: where does the other occupant live? Why are they in the company of an IRA member? Also, by asking an occupant of a car to get out and walk to the rear of a vehicle for purposes of a boot inspection, enables the officer to note a description of the height and build of the individual. However, at all times police officers welcomed the military backup provided by the Army. Although RUC weapons training and counter-insurgency tactics were sophisticated and developed according to the acquired proficiency of the IRA, it was nonetheless acknowledged that the Army was better trained to directly engage the enemy. However, as a result of the doctrine of police primacy the RUC did attempt to address this problem by forming special antiterrorist units such as Headquarters Mobile Support Unit who could directly respond to terrorist operations (see Smyth, 2000; Ryder, 2004). There was a deference to the Army’s military capacity vis-à-vis a terrorist attack, which also reflects the ambiguity of the dual roles expected of RUC officers in a counterterrorism context.

Special Branch and the intelligence front: surveillance and informers (Throughout the UK counter-terrorism has always been the specialist area of policing known as ‘Special Branch’. Thus when the ‘troubles’ broke out in Northern Ireland the local Special Branch inevitably took on a primary role, which increasingly evolved around intelligence on the terrorist groups.) In the early years of the ‘troubles’ the priority of the police and army was to stop the killing. Resources were concentrated in the direction of tackling the violence on the street. In the worst year of the conflict, 1972, 479 people lost their lives when shootings and bombings were almost an everyday experience. During this period it was acknowledged that there was a need to adopt a more sophisticated and comprehensive approach to combating terrorism. However, the way in which to accomplish this feat was less evident. In part, this was due to the indeterminate nature of the campaign. At the start of the ‘troubles’ perhaps few would have thought that a quarter of a century would pass before the IRA decided to declare a serious ceasefire. The main problem was that of how to gather intelligence as the ethnic borders of militant Republican areas became rigidly marked out and defended with violence against the police. One former Special Branch officer pointed out that when the Army was deployed in 1969 it utilised the approach of MI5 as the main intelligence engine of its involvement, which was conditioned by a colonial experience that favoured a military solution to the conflict. As discussed above, however, military responses to the problem in 1970, 1971 and 1972 achieved little. The violent offensive adopted by the Provisional IRA in 1970 was dictated by the

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irredentism of Irish Republicanism and was therefore ideological. Although ideological, it was nevertheless able to utilise the communal disaffection felt by the wider Nationalist community toward the Unionist government in Stormont to increase the opposition to British soldiers on the streets. An ideologically driven organisation (IRA) which could profit greatly from the violence of contemporary events made it all the more necessary for the RUC to build an effective counter-insurgency intelligence service that moved beyond reactionary styles of policing. If the IRA was to be contained or defeated, then policing (and specifically the Special Branch) would have to become more proactive, ideologically sensitive and intelligent in its approach. The strategy of ‘Ulsterisation’, building on the failure of a military-led approach, provided RUC’s Special Branch with the opportunity and resources for developing a modern, professional, and intelligence led counter-terrorist operation. With the aid of MI5 (the UK’s main military intelligence agency), electronic and human covert surveillance techniques were developed or improved. Interestingly, an ex-Special Branch respondent claimed that MI5 would not, at first, make available to the RUC its newest technology. It was suggested that if, for example, state-of-the-art bugging devices had been used and subsequently discovered by the IRA, this might have compromised espionage techniques in more significant regions of the world where British Intelligence was operating. Thus, there was a pecking order in military intelligence and Northern Ireland was slotted-in well down the list. Yet bugging devices (and phone tapping) were effective and the security forces skilled enough to hide them in such unlikely places as the Sinn Féin offices in Connolly House, Belfast. Of course, the IRA was swift to counter this counter-terrorist technique by testing rooms and buildings for electronic equipment by means of metal detectors. But, as one respondent chose to describe both electronic and human surveillance techniques, ‘it is a probability game – it’s not an exact science’ because each method often provided only a piece of information. Human surveillance might inform the police as to where a person went but does not necessarily answer the question of why that individual went there or to whom the spoke to if entering a house. It is not accurate at determining who, out of a range of people a suspect might stop and speak to while under observation, is a member of the IRA. On the other hand, electronic surveillance, if dependent on batteries as a source of energy will eventually become exhausted and might prove difficult to replace. Also, electronic surveillance like that used in Connolly House, is limited in that it is static and depends upon conversations taking place at the location and occurring within the range of the device. Yet both methods enabled RUC officers to put together what effectively were different pieces of an intelligence jigsaw puzzle. However, although the developing intelligence picture might be incomplete if it was sufficient to suggest that an IRA operation was imminent in a particular place, then the policy was to swamp the area with uniformed officers conducting vehicle checkpoints, or use aerial surveillance in order to foil the anticipated attack. This preventative strategy was not a consequence of insuffi-

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cient intelligence but one often used to frustrate the terrorist. Such frustrations had been found to be more internally disruptive and demoralising to the terrorists than openly confronting them or having major ‘shoot outs’ with them, which could often provide the terrorists with excellent propaganda and long running inquests. These in turn could often be used against the police and Army to show them up as using ‘unnecessary force’ or being the ‘danger to the public’ or to gain significant intelligence on how the police or army conducted operations. Yet that this strategy was a second best option because it might merely delay a terrorist action, hence, the importance of the RUC using any delay in the terrorist’s execution of his plan to their future advantage. While both the technical ability and general skilfulness of RUC Special Branch improved, this was only one way in which intelligence could be used to combat terrorism. Human sources of intelligence gathering were deemed better than electronic varieties not least because they helped reduce guesswork. Hence a policy to recruit informers was developed. Informers were able to provide the RUC with a shortcut to higher-grade intelligence. An informant’s disclosure of the location of a weapon, who the volunteers were in an area, or the time and place of a planned IRA attack, was invaluable. In 2005 the admission of a senior Sinn Féin political negotiator, Donald Donaldson that he had worked for MI5 and RUC Special Branch as a paid informer, testified to the ability of the security forces to infiltrate the Republican movement at a high-level. Informers, however, had to be handled in a professional manner in order to minimise the risk of detection. As the history of the ‘troubles’ confirms, the detection of an informer within any terrorist organisation invariably resulted in the killing of the agent. The killing of an agent in, say, a certain part of Belfast, then made it very difficult for the RUC to recruit new informers, particularly in that area, not least because the facts seemed to speak for themselves regarding the question of the RUC’s ability to protect informers. Thus the RUC had to think carefully about how best to protect informers. Acting upon the information that informants provided was also a factor that the RUC had to take into account. An informer may be prepared to provide information that leads to the arrest of certain terrorists and their subsequent imprisonment. But if those who have been informed upon are killed in an RUC anti-terrorist operation, this may discourage the informant from providing other information – at the level of an informant’s conscience, the imprisonment of a friend, neighbour, comrade or even family member is likely to be preferable to their death. Interestingly, the phenomenon of ‘supergrasses’ during the early to mid1980s, often posed a threat to the RUC’s informant-based intelligence network. The term referred to a paramilitary who was prepared to testify against his fellow members in order to escape prosecution. The supergrass was likened by one respondent unto a ‘blunderbuss that takes everyone down around him’ including those individuals who were RUC informants. If the RUC attempted to protect an informant within an organisation who has been accused by the supergrass, then there is a risk that the informant will be exposed thus endangering his

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life. Or if the informant is convicted in a supergrass trial, the police then lose perhaps a significant source of intelligence on a terrorist organisation. Although an informant may continue to operate for the police within a prison, this was thought to be a poor form of compensation for the loss of an active informant on the ground. Neither could the RUC attempt to deal with this problem by making the supergrass informer aware of the identity of another informant. Not only would a policy of this kind have had serious legal implications regarding an individual’s testimony, i.e. it might have led to the RUC attempting to control what an informer said in court, but it might also have given a supergrass informant information that he could have bartered with to disadvantage of the RUC. Essentially there were two categories of informant: those inside the terrorist organisation and others who, although outside it, were nonetheless suitably close to the organisation to be of use to the RUC. Taxi drivers and barmen recruited by the RUC were able to furnish the police with information as outside informants simply by overhearing conversations. Individuals in these occupations could pick up on the substance of a conversation between members of an organisation, especially if they worked in areas frequented by terrorists. The neighbour of a known terrorist or a shopkeeper in his local area could also provide information about the movements of a terrorist – who the terrorist was in conversation with or who accompanied him. Obviously informants inside the IRA were more valuable and RUC resources were focused on the recruitment of this type of person. Ultimately it was only IRA members who could accurately account for what was being planned within the organisation. But they were often more difficult to protect since the more important the grade of information about some aspect of the IRA, the fewer members within the organisation privy to this knowledge and so traceable back as an informant. Special Branch had to take this into account when planning their response to intelligence information so that the identity of the informer would not be revealed. The protection of the informant, whose information was perhaps saving many lives, was paramount (see McGartland, 1997). Another problem encountered by the RUC in their handling of informants was that of money management. How best might informants, who were receiving regular payments, conceal their extra (and potentially lucrative) source of income? Displaying traits of a lavish lifestyle did not fit with living in a working-class Republican neighbourhood. To avoid suspicion, the RUC would often recommend that an informer wait until he was on holiday before spending what could have been a considerable amount of money. Or, if an informant was given to gambling, perhaps claims of a win could persuasively be proffered. In fact, during interview, it was remarked that the financial incentive to becoming an informer was not preferred by Special Branch as a means of recruitment. Rather, other reasons like an informant’s disillusionment with the conflict or avoidance of a prison sentence were considered better. The recruitment of people who were not members of an organisation was also important, because at times the IRA would make use of individuals outside of the organisation due to a fear of RUC infiltration. Infiltration was not easy and in

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certain brigade areas of the IRA, like the close knit rural community of south Armagh, which had a long history of Republican sympathy and active involvement, made penetration difficult (O’Brien, 1993). If, for example, the IRA needed the use of a car or a house, for purposes such as the brief storage of a weapon, they might prefer to use a home where no one is known to the police as having any connections with terrorism. The recruitment of informers, then, could occur at a number of different levels and not only of those belonging to the movement. Increased intelligence on the structure of the IRA also became important in counter-insurgency efforts. As the strategy of the IRA developed after the early years of the ‘troubles’ the RUC realised that, like any other organisation, the IRA required money and a steady flow of funds. Volunteers needed to be paid, operations financed, new weapons purchased as well as the families of prisoners financially supported. Financial aid for the families of imprisoned volunteers was deemed a priority because it was a way of maintaining the families and morale of members as well as wider communal support. This meant that the IRA needed more than a shoestring budget if it was to function simultaneously in each of these areas. Interestingly, when the political side of the Republican movement began to develop during the 1980s this added to the organisation’s financial burdens. Sources of IRA funding came from drinking clubs, gaming machines, financial scams, robberies, extortion and cross-border fuel smuggling (for latter point see O’Brien, 1993). Special Branch officers were not only aware of most of the illegal sources of IRA funding but also how the organisation had been involved in legitimate businesses. When attempting to address this problem, the RUC was hindered by an absence of legislation or a specific agency with the power of financial seizure while an investigation was conducted. Presently, this role is performed by the Assets Recovery Agency which blends financial and criminal investigations in order to disrupt organised crime. A suspect can have his or her finances seized pending the outcome of an investigation. But no such agency existed during the Northern Ireland Troubles. This was a significant weakness in combating the financial sources of a terrorist organisation which helped fund its military and political operations. Like other branches in the RUC, Special Branch refined its counter-terrorist role. This meant departmental adaptability: as the IRA became more adept at waging its war on the British state the RUC needed to find ways of keeping up and if possible getting ahead. This demanded a constant analysis of terrorist tactics and techniques. It also called for the collation of disparate sources of intelligence both from uniformed RUC officers as they conducted their daily patrols as well as the intelligence drawn from surveillance and informants. This intelligence then had to be graded and, if required, fed back into the police system. This necessitated high-levels of co-ordination between different RUC departments and stations. But because the RUC received diverse intelligence from multiple sources it meant that only Special Branch had an overarching perspective on matters. And it was in the nature of intelligence that it needed to

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be guarded against leakage. Other RUC departments, then, had to trust Special Branch. When uniformed officers were asked about their feelings about Special Branch, it was a shared opinion that the department was trusted and that it had a very challenging job stopping terrorists do that which they do best, namely maiming and causing the destruction of property.

Conclusion The RUC lost 302 officers as a result of the ‘troubles’. Some of these officers were murdered while off duty. Part-time members would often be killed as they worked in their daytime occupations – not anticipating an imminent attack. Mark Urban (1992) draws our attention to the way in which many members of the local security forces have been killed, ‘Many of the killings have happened in circumstances where the victim was defenceless. A female UDR [Ulster Defence Regiment] soldier was shot dead as she lay in bed. Others have been killed in front of their children or mothers’ (Urban, 1992, p. 187). Similarly, James Dingley refers to the way in which it was not difficult for the IRA to launch attacks on the security forces which, it should be acknowledged, was a pronounced problem for the RUC as officers had to perform the normal duties associated with civilian policing, in uniform, in public, in Northern Ireland: it is quite easy to target members of the security forces. Their ability to shoot back is severely constrained not only by the element of surprise that works to the terrorists benefit but also by the fact that the terrorist can quickly hide amongst ordinary members of the public. The security forces are not permitted to open fire in a way that puts ordinary members of the public at risk. Also snipers . . . can operate from over a mile away from their target and slip across the border. Very easy! (Dingley, 1998, pp. 107–108) Further, as the conflict progressed the IRA widened its definition of who constituted a legitimate target to the point that it has been described as forming a ‘universe of, perhaps, 40,000–50,000 people’ (Bowyer Bell, 1990, p. 55) or as Bruce (1994, p. 124) puts it, ‘the Republican definition of a legitimate target expands’ to the degree that it becomes ‘hard to think of any category of Protestant excluded from the list’ (Bruce, 1994, p. 124). Attempting to provide security and combat a terrorist organisation whose selection of ‘legitimate’ targets was so vast, required unstinting professional dedication as well as an effective counter-terrorist strategy – operationally and intelligencebased – which was adaptable to the developing threat posed by terrorists. The IRA did not always limit their strikes to military targets. Non-combatants were frequently the victims of IRA bomb attacks. To take the example of one geographical context during the ‘troubles’, a number of Republican bombings on the Loyalist

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Shankhill Road in Belfast resulted in the deaths of 24 Protestant civilians – four of whom were children. In order to understand the difficulties that surrounded the RUC’s attempt to combat the IRA it is thus necessary to gain an understanding of the nature and consequences of IRA violence. This is a point that seems to be inadequately addressed or deliberately overlooked in some analyses of the RUC. Some analyses give rise to the picture of a Northern Ireland wherein the Nationalist community was weighed down under the sheer weight of repressive security legislation which was systematically and unwaveringly enforced by the RUC. However, Republican and Nationalist parades occurred in Northern Ireland despite their opposition to the state (see Jarman and Bryan, 1998). Although these commentators point out that the RUC was inconsistent in its policy toward the symbolism accompanying Republican parades, they make the point that the police often tolerated the open display of the Tricolour and Starry Plough (Republican flags). Neither does the image correspond to the reality that normal policing did occur throughout Northern Ireland before 1969 and that the RUC’s complement did consist of Catholic officers. These points suggest a greater degree of Nationalist acceptance of the RUC than some would have us believe basically because it complicates a particular analytical approach and argument. During interview each officer spoke highly of their fellow RUC officers who were Catholic. They acknowledged that Catholic officers often experienced additional challenges in that the IRA had often made it impossible for them to visit relatives in certain areas. Not only did Catholic policemen have to worry about a direct threat to their lives if visiting a certain area, but they also were fearful least they endanger their relatives if it became known that their relation was a member of the RUC. The RUC had to contend with an enemy that did not sign up to standard rules of engagement in a conflict situation. The IRA constantly attempted to kill police officers and other members of the security forces – whether armed or not, on or off duty – and refused them the right to surrender because it had ideologically ruled out the possibility of the detention and imprisonment of their victims. It is a disposition of this kind that makes a terrorist organisation a deadly organisation. Indeed, when reflecting upon the many murders and injuries suffered by the RUC during the ‘troubles’, Chris Ryder (2004) commends the force for its refusal to seek revenge. Indeed, those who participated in this research argued strongly that the laws under which the RUC operated within a democracy were necessary. They stated that they would not have wanted the right to adopt a shoot-to-kill policy. It was also argued that if such a policy had been adopted, then the death list of those claimed to have been killed as a result of such a policy would have been much longer. Similarly, it was also acknowledged that killing terrorists was not the best of options because it helped nourish the ideological grounds for political violence. Within the communities from which the terrorists come the killing of terrorists is likely to psychologically condition those communities in to an acceptance of the killing of members of the security forces. Thus, again, the

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shooting of terrorists was found not to be an efficient counter-terrorism tactic, which according to officers’ considerations undermined Republicans’ claims that a policy of this type was in operation. The ‘shoot-to-kill’ claim arose following the deaths of a number of people in late 1982 and was investigated by the Deputy Chief Constable of Greater Manchester, John Stalker (Ryder, 2004). Officers welcomed the military backup provided by the Army and felt that during operations levels of co-ordination and co-operation were good. It is important to note that RUC officers had an interest in trying to be constructive in their interactions with a local Nationalist community not least because the RUC were an indefinite security presence unlike an Army regiment performing a tour of duty. The relatively short stay of a regiment in the province meant that developing a relationship with a community was not a strategic priority. Although RUC weapons training and counter-insurgency tactics were sophisticated and developed according to the increasing proficiency of the IRA, it was nonetheless acknowledged that the Army was better trained to engage the enemy if attacked. As a result of the doctrine of police primacy the RUC did attempt to address this problem by forming special anti-terrorist units such as the Headquarters Mobile Support Unit (see Smyth, 2000; Ryder, 2004). Yet, irrespective of Army backup, the RUC’s confrontation with both urban and rural forms of terrorism resulted in a technical and operational proficiency in combating it. It would also seem that the experience of the RUC during the ‘troubles’ is considered of value in defeating insurgency movements elsewhere in the world – one respondent had not long returned from a six-month period in Iraq, during which he had been advising Iraqi security forces in urban and rural methods of counter-terrorism. It is only when faced with the kind of terrorist threat that the security forces in Northern Ireland experienced during the ‘troubles’ that one state is able to make an informed judgment regarding the counter-terrorist responses of another. For example, it was not anticipated that those members of the Irish National Caucus in American who were critical of the RUC and its anti-terrorist measures during the ‘troubles’, would eventually have the opportunity to evaluate their own state’s counter-terrorist approaches in such places as Guantanamo Bay – not to mention Afghanistan and Iraq. Finally, in 1999 the RUC was awarded the George Cross. The award recognised the courage and dedication demonstrated by police officers and their families during the ‘troubles’ in Northern Ireland. As the agency invested with the provision of law and order in society, it was inevitable that the anti-state terrorism of the IRA would result in their targeting and murdering of RUC officers as well as other members of civil society. That more were not killed was less a consequence of terrorist strategy than it was the effectiveness of the RUC’s counter-insurgency measures.

Bibliography Bell Bowyer, I. (1990) IRA Tactics and Targets. (Dublin: Poolbeg Press). Bew, P. and Gillespie, G. (1993) Northern Ireland: A Chronology of the Troubles, 1968–1993. (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan).

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Brewer, J. (1990) ‘Talking about danger: the RUC and the paramilitary threat’, Sociology, 4:4, pp. 657–674. Brewer, J and Magee, K. (1999) Inside the RUC: Routine Policing in a Divided Society. (Oxford: Clarendon Press). Bruce, S. (1992) The Red Hand: Protestant Paramilitaries in Northern Ireland. (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Bruce, S. (1993) ‘Loyalists in Northern Ireland: Further Thoughts on “Pro-State” Terror’. Terrorism and Political Violence, 5:4. Bruce, S. (1994) The Edge of the Union. (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Campbell, C. and Connolly, I. (2003) ‘A model for the “War against Terrorism”? Military intervention and the 1970 falls curfew’. Journal of Law and Society, 30. Dingley, J. (1998) ‘A reply to White’s non-sectarian thesis of PIRA targeting’. Terrorism and Political Violence, 10:2, pp. 106–117. Ellison, G. and Smyth, J. (2000) The Crowned Harp: Policing Northern Ireland. (London: Pluto Press). Harnden, T. (1999) Bandit Country. (London: Hodder and Stoughton). Jarman, N. and Bryan, D. (1998) From Riots to Rights: Nationalist Parades in the North of Ireland. Centre for the Study of Conflict. (University of Ulster). Kingsley, P. (1989) Londonderry Revisited. (Belfast: Belfast Publications). McGarry, J. and O’Leary, B. (1995) Explaining Northern: Broken Images. (Oxford: Blackwell). McGartland, M. (1997) Fifty Dead Men Walking (London: Blake). McGloin, J. (2003) ‘Shifting paradigms: policing in Northern Ireland’. Policing: An International Journal of Police Strategies and Management, 26:1, pp. 118–143. Mapstone, R. (1994) Policing in a Divided Society: A Study of Part Time Policing in Northern Ireland. (England: Avebury). Moloney, E. and Pollak, A. (1986) Paisley. (Swords: Poolbeg Press). Marques, P. (2003) ‘Guerrilla warfare tactics in urban environments’, unpublished MA thesis. www.fas.org/man/eprint/marques.pdf accessed: 16 May 2007. Mulcahy, A. (2006) Policing Northern Ireland: Conflict, Legitimacy and Reform. (Devon: William Publishing). Murtagh, B. (1996) ‘Peace line communities: implications for the fountain’ in Marie Smyth Aspects of Sectarian Division in Derry Londonderry. O’Brien, B. (1999) The Long War: The IRA and Sinn Féin. (Dublin: O’Brien Press). O’Brien, J. (2002) A Matter of Minutes: The Enduring Legacy of Bloody Sunday. (Dublin: Wolfhound Press). Ryder, C. (2002) The RUC 1922–2000: A Force Under Fire. (London: Arrow). Ryder, C. (2004) The Fateful Split. (London: Methuen). Shirlow, P. (2003) ‘Who fears to speak’: fear, mobility, and ethno-sectarianism in the two Ardoynes’. http://cain.ulst.ac.uk/ethnopolitics/shirlow03.pdf accessed: 29 January 2007. Urban, M. (1992) Big Boys’ Rules. (London: Faber & Faber). Weitzer, R. (1985) ‘Policing in a divided society: obstacles to normalization in Northern Ireland’. Social Problems, 33:1, pp. 41–55. Weitzer, R. (1990) Transforming Settler States: Communal Conflict and Internal Security in Northern Ireland and Zimbabwe. (Berkeley: University of California Press). Whyte, J. (1990) Interpreting Northern Ireland. (Oxford: Clarendon).

11 The military response Sir Alistair Irwin and Mike Mahoney

Introduction and background This chapter examines the military aspect of the Northern Irish Troubles. No doubt an official history of the role of the armed forces and police will be produced but if precedent is a good guide it will be a long time before it appears. Meanwhile there will inevitably be authors championing the cause of one set of protagonists over another. Northern Ireland’s situation has been so pervasive, so polarising, in its effect that very few people, Irish or outsider, seem able to take a dispassionate view of what has occurred. In this respect, as the authors of this chapter, we consider ourselves to be no different to anyone else, for we too know where our sympathies lie. Nevertheless we have attempted in what follows to be objective, even if a deep and predictable prejudice against all forms of terrorism will be quite obvious in our analysis. We begin with a brief résumé of the violent events that for nearly four decades has brought the British Army into direct conflict with some of the citizens of a small part of the United Kingdom. The wide-scale eruption of violence in Northern Ireland in August 1969 took both the IRA and the British Army by surprise. The manner in which each responded to this violence, and their respective actions as circumstances developed during the ensuing years, played a major part in influencing the duration and outcome of the conflict. The Northern Ireland campaign (Operation BANNER1) constitutes the longest episode of Military Aid to the Civil Power (MACP) in British history.2 An estimated 250,000 soldiers have qualified for the Northern Ireland clasp to the General Service Medal.3 Seven hundred and forty-seven4 soldiers have lost their lives; countless others have suffered physical and mental injury. We attempt here to summarise the campaign by focusing on the unfolding of the Republican terrorist campaign, concentrating on the period up to 1998 when the Good Friday Agreement was signed. Obviously terrorism and the Army’s involvement continued for some years after that but on a much reduced scale. This twilight period was marked by periodic upsurges in inter-sectarian violence5 and by continuing attacks by dissident Republican terrorists.6

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Campaign overview Background The British Army’s involvement in the Northern Ireland Troubles began at 5pm on 14 August 1969 when the Home Secretary, James Callaghan, acceded to a request from the Northern Ireland Government at Stormont, to authorise the deployment of a company of the Prince of Wales’ Own Regiment to support the Royal Ulster Constabulary in Londonderry. The following day, the 3rd Battalion the Light Infantry deployed into west Belfast with fixed bayonets to help the RUC separate rioting Catholic and Protestant factions (RUC). The decision was made reluctantly; the Irish Question has always been a bear-trap for British politicians and the preference would have been to stay well away. There was in reality no choice to be made. The scale and ferocity of the violence that had erupted had exhausted the police; there was no practical alternative to military intervention if order was to be restored to the streets. At first the task was simply to deal with the large-scale and vicious rioting mainly in the two big cities. However this civil disorder proved to be the seed bed for a burgeoning terrorist campaign; all too soon the Army’s task shifted to dealing with a shooting and bombing campaign that spread like spilled ink across the Province, then across the Irish Sea and later to British Army garrisons in Germany. The British Army’s organisation The military infrastructure on which the launching of Operation BANNER depended existed long before August 1969 as the Army had, of course, maintained garrisons in Ireland (from 1922, in Northern Ireland only) for generations.7 The specific requirements of Operation BANNER were bolted onto a pre-existing military structure. Headquarters Northern Ireland was based in Lisburn, a market town on the outskirts of Belfast. For operational purposes, the Province was divided into two and sometimes, three brigade areas: 39 Brigade (based in Belfast) which covered the east of the Province and 8 Brigade (based in Londonderry) which covered the west. An additional brigade, 3 Brigade, was based in Portadown and was responsible for the regions bordering the Republic for much of the campaign. The backbones of the brigades consisted of a varying number of infantry battalions, or other units (such as artillery regiments) acting in the infantry role. There were never less than three of these units in each brigade, but frequently many more depending on the threat, as Table 11.1 shows. A typical battalion would usually comprise about 650 all ranks. Brigades would also have other assets attached to them from time to time as the situation demanded. These would include units from the Royal Armoured Corps, Royal Signals, Royal Engineers and the Royal Logistic Corps. In rural areas, especially, troops relied heavily on Royal Air Force and Army Air Corps helicopters for routine and operational

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Table 11.1 Troop levels in Northern Ireland 1969–1998 Year

Army total

British regiments

UDR/R IRISH

1969 (June) 1970 (January) 1971 1972 1972 (July) 1973 (January) 1974 1975 1976 1977 1978 1979 1980 1981 1982 1983 1984 1985 1986 1987 1988 1989 1990 1991 1992 1993 1994 (July) 1995 1996 1997 1998

2,700 8,100 11,800 22,800 30,300 26,000 23,900 22,700 22,800 21,900 22,200 21,200 19,300 19,100 18,011 17,125 16,468 16,194 16,908 17,931 17,593 17,430 16,350 16,970 17,417 17,710 19,500 16,370 15,360 15,380 15,500

2,700 6,300 7,800 14,300 21,800 16,900 16,200 15,000 15,100 14,300 14,400 13,600 11,900 11,600 10,900 10,200 10,000 9,700 10,500 11,400 11,200 11,200 10,300 10,700 12,000 12,300 14,300 11,000 10,300 9,600 10,500

1,800 4,000 8,500 8,500 9,100 7,700 7,700 7,700 7,600 7,800 7,600 7,400 7,500 7,111 6,925 6,468 6,494 6,408 6,531 6,393 6,230 6,043 6,276 5,417 5,412 5,241 5,320 5,330 5,780 5,000

Sources: Compiled from www.cain.ulst.ac.uk and UK Defence Statistics 2003.

movement. From the outset, there was close liaison between the Army and the Royal Ulster Constabulary, with liaison officers from each organisation embedded into the command structure of the other. The challenge posed by the PIRA8 The main Republican terrorist organisation, the Provisional Irish Republican Army (PIRA) was formed in December 1969 after Republicans in Belfast split from the Dublin-based IRA leadership in reaction to what was seen as the overly political nature of the organisation and its perceived slowness to react to the events of August 1969. The PIRA was formed in order to wage war against the British, her security forces and supporters with the intention of forcing the reuni-

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fication of the two parts of the island of Ireland by force. War was to be waged by the most violent and direct means possible and the PIRA’s offensive began in earnest in 1971. An idea of the scale of the task that the Army faced can be gained from a brief overview of the first 18 months of PIRA operations. In the first six months of 1971, there were over 300 bombings, killing 31 people (including 13 soldiers and two policemen) and injuring 100 more. In one 12hour period in July 1971 the PIRA carried out 20 separate bomb attacks in Belfast, targeting shops, banks and public houses, injuring dozens of civilians.9 Army patrols were routinely engaged with small arms fire. Life in Catholic areas of the city was lived out against a nightly backdrop of running gun battles as the PIRA and the security forces vied for local supremacy. British Army troop levels steadily increased in an effort to contain the violence. The PIRA’s aim was to mount a widespread and sustained offensive that would make Northern Ireland ungovernable and break the will of the British government to maintain the Union, a strategy that was dubbed ‘one big push’. This period saw the PIRA introduce the car bomb, the nail bomb and various different types of incendiary bomb. It saw the proliferation of ‘no go’ areas. These were originally established in August 1969 as defensive enclaves against attacks by Loyalist gangs from across the sectarian divide. Later they sought to exclude the security forces and they continued under terrorist control until the barricades were torn down by the Army in Operation MOTORMAN on 31 July 1972. This also marked the start of attacks on mainland Britain as the PIRA reasoned, correctly, that such attacks would have greater shock value. The statistics for terrorist attacks, and for the death toll in the Province in this period, show a dramatic rise in all types of terrorist activity (see Tables 11.2 and 11.3). In July 1972, the climax of the strategy of ‘one big push’, there were 200 explosions and 2,800 shootings resulting in the deaths of 74 civilians and 21 members of the security forces. Almost all of this violence was generated by the PIRA.10 In mounting a campaign of this level of intensity, the PIRA was following what it believed to be established precedent, a view articulated by their first Chief of Staff, Séan MacStiofáin11: ‘The way to get rid of you British, as has been proved all over your empire, is violence. You will get fed-up and go away.’12 From the beginning the PIRA posed a significant challenge to the security forces. As well as the intensity of the PIRA’s campaign and the constraints placed upon the army of any liberal democracy when operating within its own borders (a factor we shall examine in greater detail later in this chapter), the Army also faced the additional challenges that flowed from the PIRA’s growing sophistication and its ability to adapt. This flexibility was demonstrated in two main areas, which we shall call technical adaptability and strategic adaptability. We shall examine them separately, although in practice they were closely related.

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Table 11.2 Security related incidents in Northern Ireland 1969–1998 Year

Shooting incidents

Bombing incidents Explosions

Devices neutralised

Total

1969 1970 1971 1972 1973 1974 1975 1976 1977 1978 1979 1980 1981 1982 1983 1984 1985 1986 1987 1988 1989 1990 1991 1992 1993 1994 1995 1996 1997 1998

73 213 1,756 10,631 5,019 3,208 1,803 1,908 1,081 755 728 642 1,142 547 424 334 238 392 674 538 566 557 499 506 476 348 50 125 225 211

9 153 1,022 1,382 978 685 399 766 366 455 422 280 398 219 266 193 148 172 236 253 224 166 231 222 206 123 1 8 43 N/a

1 17 493 471 542 428 236 426 169 178 142 120 131 113 101 55 67 82 148 205 196 120 137 149 83 99 1 17 50 n/a

10 170 1,515 1,853 1,520 1,113 635 1,192 535 633 564 400 529 332 367 248 215 254 384 458 420 286 368 371 289 222 2 25 93 243

Totals

35,669

10,026

4,977

15,246

Sources: Compiled from www.cain.ulst.ac.uk and UK Defence Statistics 2003.

The PIRA’s technical adaptability In order to prosecute a campaign on a scale big enough to make the British ‘get fed up and go away’, the PIRA needed to broaden its technical capability. It did this by two means: procurement and innovation. The weapons that the PIRA had procured by various means in the summer and autumn of 1969 were augmented during this early period by the arrival of the US Army M16 Armalite, a formidable improvement in weaponry for the terrorist. Table 11.2 illustrates the increase in the number of recorded shooting incidents following the arrival of the Armalite, rising from 213 in 1970 to 1,756 in 1971 to 10,631 in 1972. The Army’s casualty

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Table 11.3 Deaths due to the security situation in Northrn Ireland 1969–1998 Year 1969 (Aug–Dec) 1970 1971 1972 1973 1974 1975 1976 1977 1978 1979 1980 1981 1982 1983 1984 1985 1986 1987 1988 1989 1990 1991 1992 1993 1994 1995 1996 1997 1998 Totals Notes:

Police

Police reserve

Army

UDR/R IRISH

Civilian

Totals

1 2 11 14 10 12 7 13 8 4 9 3 13 8 9 7 14 10 9 4 7 7 5 2 3 3 1 0 3 1

0 0 0 3 3 3 4 10 6 6 5 6 8 4 9 2 9 2 7 2 2 5 1 1 3 0 0 0 1 0

0 0 43 105 58 30 14 14 15 14 38 8 10 21 5 9 2 4 3 21 12 7 5 4 6 1 0 1 1 1

0 0 5 26 8 7 6 15 14 7 10 9 13 7 10 10 4 8 8 12 2 8 8 2 2 2 0 0 0 0

13 23 115 322 173 168 216 245 69 50 51 50 57 57 44 36 26 37 68 55 39 49 75 76 70 56 8 14 17 53

14 25 174 470 252 220 247 297 112 81 113 76 101 97 77 64 55 61 95 94 62 76 94 85 84 62 9 15 22 55

200

102

452

203

2,329

3,286

Source: Police Service of Northern Ireland (PSNI). (2003) Deaths due to the Security Situation in Northern Ireland 1969–2003 (By Calendar Year); http://www.psni.police.uk/index/departments/ statistics_branch.htm.

rates for the same years (Table 11.3) illustrate the effect of the Armalite. In 1971, the year the Armalite began to appear, 43 soldiers were killed, 42 of whom died from gunshot wounds. By 1972 that figure had risen to 105 killed, 64 of whom died from gunshot wounds. In each case, the majority of soldiers killed by small arms fire were shot by snipers using Armalites.13 Later RPG-7 anti-tank launchers, heavy calibre sniper rifles and anti-aircraft weapons also found their way into terrorist hands. It should not be assumed of course that the security forces did nothing to interdict the flow of weapons into Ireland from overseas. Strenuous diplomatic and intelligence efforts, as well as seizures of arms shipments, helped to reduce the

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size and scope of the armoury available to the terrorist but the coastline and land border of the Province were always more porous than was comfortable. As can be seen from Table 11.2, between 1972 and 1975 the number of explosions also increased hugely. This can largely be accounted for by the invention of what one might term the PIRA’s principal legacy to the terrorist arsenal: the car bomb. The car bomb met a basic terrorist need: that of staging a spectacular and eye-catching attack that was unpredictable and difficult to guard against. The manner and means of its delivery overcame all of the problems traditionally associated with the concealment, transportation and planting of a bomb; the terrorist simply had to drive the car bomb to the target, park it and walk away. In the words of Sean MacStiofáin, the car bomb ‘provided an efficient container and an efficient delivery system. It yielded far greater administrative, industrial and economic damage for a given operation. And it required fewer Volunteers to place it on target’.14 The PIRA quickly realised the car bomb’s effectiveness. This can be seen in the figures quoted in Table 11.4. The total amount of explosives planted increased by almost 400 per cent from 1971–1972 as the PIRA channelled its efforts into its new weapon. For three years they sustained a level of explosions unseen before or since in the history of the ‘troubles’15 as they exploited the car bomb to its fullest extent, maximising the success of their invention. Although used throughout the Province, the principal target of the car bomb was to be Northern Ireland’s second city, Londonderry. From July 1972 to August 1973, the Derry Brigade of the Provisionals systematically destroyed the city’s ancient centre. At one stage, only 20 of the city’s 150 shops were left trading.16 The tactics used by the security forces to counter these car bomb attacks are described later. The car bomb was not the only technical innovation that the PIRA was able to exploit in order to broaden its range of options. It also led the way in the development of other forms of improvised explosive devices (IEDs) and in the production of homemade mortars. The PIRA’s IEDs often incorporated items that were commercially available, particularly agricultural fertiliser. From the

Table 11.4 Total explosives planted: 1971–1975 Year

Explosives planted (lbs)

1971 1972 1973 1974 1975

13,973 67,430 79,972 73,529 24,912

Sources: Compiled from Indices of Political Violence 1970–86, Table A.4 (Bruce, The Red Hand) and Security Incidents in Northern Ireland 1969–1994, www.cain.ulst.ac.uk)

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mid-1970s onwards, they were frequently built around the Czech explosive Semtex. As with weapons and ammunition, diplomatic and security efforts were made to cut off the supplies of commercial high explosive and high nitrogen fertiliser both at home and from overseas. IEDs came in a variety of types. They could be either incendiary or explosive in nature; they were packed into containers such as milk churns, or hidden in an everyday receptacle such as a public litter bin or roadside culvert. They could be detonated by a variety of means including command wire and radio control. Some were descriptively constructed as ‘victim operated’ devices. All types could be packed with nails or ball bearings to act as shrapnel. Mortars first appeared in 1974 but they were crude, unreliable and of minimal effect. Development continued; bigger and better versions were constructed. In February 1985, the PIRA’s newly created mortar unit attacked Newry RUC station with a battery of mortars fired from the back of a flat-bed lorry. Nine police officers were killed. The weapon was thereafter used increasingly throughout the Province and, on 7 February 1991, came within 30 yards of assassinating the entire British Cabinet when a battery of MK 10 mortars was fired at 10 Downing Street from a van parked in Whitehall. The PIRA’s technical adaptability, therefore, and the growing confidence that this generated, allowed it to broaden the scope of its targeting. It meant that it did not need to restrict itself to relatively ‘soft’ targets in the Province; it could also attack high-profile targets such as Lord Mountbatten in 1979, Margaret Thatcher in 1984 and Ian Gow in 1990 as well as the mortar attack on 10 Downing Street. It had the capability to target British military installations abroad as well as maintaining attacks on commercial targets in the Province and in England. As Brigadier James Glover (a future Commander Land Forces Northern Ireland) observed, this was an organisation that was ‘constantly learning from mistakes and developing [its] expertise’.17 Faced with all these threats, the Army needed to respond with appropriate and effective countermeasures, all with the single aim of closing down the options open to the PIRA. These countermeasures included the construction of bomb and mortar proof bases, intensive local protection patrols and intelligenceled searches and interdiction operations. The growing technical sophistication of the terrorist was matched by security force innovation, some of which is described below. Ammunition Technical Officers (ATOs) had possibly the most hazardous of all roles to play in the fight against terrorism. As with all other aspects of the military response to terrorism, their methods and equipment evolved over the years in response to the changing nature of the threat they faced. As the statistics in Table 11.2 show, the contribution of the ATOs to the fight against terrorism was enormous. On average, one out of every three IEDs planted was neutralised. This is not the place to detail the complexities and challenges of a highly technical game of cat and mouse played between the ATOs and the terrorist bombers, amongst whom could be counted graduates in physics, electronics and chemistry. Every terrorist innovation was trumped by a rapidly developed

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technical countermeasure the details of which were, and remain, secret. There were tactical and procedural countermeasures as well, all of them designed to minimise the risk of casualties and damage. For example, by the late 1980s, the Royal Engineers had greatly reduced the threat of the under-road bomb by blocking access culverts18 across the Province. ATO teams, at immediate notice to move, were positioned at strategic places throughout the Province. They deployed rapidly to the scene of an IED either by armoured vehicle or by helicopter. Once there, secured by an outer cordon of troops, the bomb disposal officer would begin the task of assessing the nature of the device and then neutralising it. At first this was largely done by literally a ‘hands-on’ technique; later technology, including the world famous ‘Wheelbarrow’ remote control vehicle, allowed much of the work to be done from a relatively safe distance. The first aim was to prevent the device from exploding; the second was to retrieve as much forensic evidence as possible both to prosecute the bomber and to learn as much as possible about his techniques. It was indeed dangerous and vital work.19 Other, more prosaic, technical innovations also demonstrate the adaptability that characterised the Army’s campaign. The development of baton rounds (the rubber bullet from 1969 which was gradually replaced by the plastic bullet from 1973) was intended to ensure that the Army could engage in effective crowd control without inflicting unnecessary casualties. Armoured vehicles, surveillance equipment and a vast array of specialist search equipment are further examples of the efforts devoted to providing the troops with the best and most suitable equipment possible. Good equipment has several benefits: it gives confidence to the troops that they have the tools they need to do their work and that they are as well protected as can be expected; it ensures weapons are found that might otherwise have gone undetected and that terrorist intentions are discovered before they can be carried out. The technical war was crucial to containing the threat posed by the PIRA. Each of the Army’s technical innovations constituted a specific military response to a specific terrorist threat. However, it would be wrong to assume that these somewhat specialised areas typified the soldier’s experience of Operation BANNER or that they were the only means by which the Army attempted to counter the threat of terrorism. To gain the wider perspective, one must examine the nuts and bolts of the campaign that the Army conducted. Although troops from every corps and regiment in the Army served in Northern Ireland, it was the infantry that bore the brunt of this campaign, conducting the routine operations that characterised military life in the Province. It is therefore appropriate to examine the infantryman’s experience in some detail. The infantryman’s perspective With the exception of the units of the Ulster Defence Regiment, an infantry battalion would serve one of two types of tour in Northern Ireland: a short tour of anything up to six months (known as roulement tours) or a residential tour of

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two years. Roulement tours were undertaken in the more dangerous areas along the border and in certain areas of Belfast and Londonderry. They were exclusively operational tours of duty away from home, family and barracks with only the briefest of breaks and with only very basic facilities for relaxation and leisure. The bases were heavily fortified and were often the targets for attack. Deploying troops in this way enabled a permanent presence in terrorist heartlands to be maintained and, as will be seen, allowed a very high work rate to be sustained. Headquarters staff, force troops such as the signals and engineer regiments and the infantry battalions occupying the permanent barracks in Belfast, Londonderry and Ballykinler, Co Down, lived and worked in Northern Ireland on a different basis. They were accompanied by their families who to a great extent were able to integrate into the local society. They were of course located in the more peaceful parts of the Province. The troops themselves, although committed to operations, were generally able to turn their attention also to other activities, such as training and leave. These residential troops provided the longterm intelligence and operational continuity needed to underpin the higher paced operations of the roulement troops. The burden of responsibility on the battalion’s commanding officer and on his company commanders was immense. Inevitably, though, it was the more junior commanders who were entrusted with the conduct of the endless patrols by groups of four man teams in the streets and fields of the Province. The platoon Commanders and Sergeants, and the Corporals and Lance-Corporals who led the four-man teams, could not all be closely supervised and commanded by more senior officers all the time; there was always just too much going on for that ever to be possible. It was therefore the junior commanders who came most frequently into direct contact with the population. It was onto their shoulders that the immediate responsibility for reacting to a terrorist attack fell. It was their personal behaviour, attitude and discipline that constituted the most visible and publicly noticed face of the British Army. They, and their men, had the ability to influence events, even world opinion, to a degree that far outweighed their position in the Army hierarchy. In recognition of this, Operation BANNER soon acquired the unofficial nickname ‘the corporals’ war’. As will be seen, great care was taken to train and prepare these junior commanders to deal with their responsibilities before they were deployed. In particular great emphasis was placed on reinforcing the Army’s well-established practice of delegating the power to make tactical decisions to the level, however junior, most immediately aware of the situation proved highly effective. The man on the spot is empowered to decide what action to take, ensuring a swift and appropriate response. All this needs good training and commanders who can trust the skills of their soldiers. For all ranks, the hours were punishing. For an average battalion, a 120-hour working week was not unusual. But, by the early 1970s, the routine of a battalion’s life in Province had been established. The main task was patrolling. There were three types of patrol: foot patrol, vehicle patrol and helicopter patrol, all of which were usually undertaken jointly with the RUC. Patrolling had two

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overarching aims: to dominate the ground (thus constraining the terrorists’ freedom of movement) and to gather intelligence. From 1969–1971 patrolling had been largely reactive, undertaken in response to the PIRA’s strategy of ‘one big push’. However, as the Army settled into the rhythm of tours and the intelligence picture began to build up, patrolling became the principal means by which the Army established local superiority over the PIRA. Twenty-four hour patrol coverage was essential; it required a complex matrix for a battalion (or company) to cover its entire operational area with mutually supporting patrols operating in an unpredictable pattern. In rural areas, a company’s responsibility could cover many hundreds of square miles of open countryside; in Belfast and Londonderry, it might encompass the homes of up to 25,000 people. The size of patrols of course depended on the nature of the task and the area of operations but typically, whether in town or country, a patrol would consist of three fourman teams and perhaps two policemen. This formula fitted in well with the established size of infantry platoons (which could if necessary field six four-man teams simultaneously); fortuitously it usually matched the scale of the local threat and the requirements to counter it. Patrol tasks would include setting up vehicle check points (VCPs), updating occupancy of houses and streets, carrying out searches; but these all fed into the overarching aims of maintaining a high profile deterrent presence on the ground and the gathering of intelligence. Intelligence could be gathered in any number of ways: unusual vehicle movements; the unexpected absence (or sometimes presence) of a known personality; crowds gathering at unexpected times or in unexpected places, or the absence of crowds at a normally busy location. Anything unusual was logged and reported back to the battalion intelligence officer and might be used to inform the next patrol matrix and subsequent patrol briefings. As will be discussed, intelligence was a vital element in the fight against terrorism. Linked to patrolling, another major battalion task was the establishment of permanent or temporary observation posts (OPs). These were static locations, which provided targeted surveillance over specific areas or individuals of interest. There were a number of permanent OPs whose location was well known to the PIRA. The best known and most controversial of these were in Belfast, such as those on top of the Divis Flats on the Falls Road and Templar House in the New Lodge; the Masonic tower in Londonderry; and the network of so-called Golf Towers in south Armagh. Others, however, were covert and could be established in a derelict building or, if in a rural location, might be dug into the side of a hill. A battalion’s close observation platoon (COP), introduced as a concept in the mid1970s, might keep an area under surveillance for many weeks at a time. These platoons underwent lengthy and testing training courses that demanded the highest standards of patrolling, observation and reporting skills. They always operated in uniform but their aim was to carry out their surveillance and reconnaissance tasks and to withdraw without their presence ever having been detected. A further routine task of the infantry battalion was to carry out searches. These were conducted in response to intelligence leads. Their object was principally to recover arms, ammunition and explosives and they were often,

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especially in Belfast and Londonderry, conducted in the teeth of violent disorder orchestrated by the terrorists, with the Army coming under attack from bricks, bottles, petrol bombs and small-arms fire. In the period from August 1969 to 31 December 1998, searches conducted by the Army yielded 11,483 firearms, 1.54 million rounds of ammunition and over 250,000lbs of explosive.20 Clearly, continuous infantry operations of this nature were extremely manpower intensive and Table 11.1 illustrates the pressure on the Army’s commitment to the Province. As might be expected, troop levels fluctuated according to the security situation but it can be seen that the Army would have found it all but impossible to meet this commitment had it not been for the formation, in 1970, of the Ulster Defence Regiment (UDR).21 The UDR drew many of its officers and senior soldiers from other parts of the Army but was largely manned by local volunteers, many of them part-timers who also held down civilian jobs. Members of the UDR were drawn from all parts and communities of the Province but perhaps inevitably the numbers from the Roman Catholic community were never very large and certainly never as great as the Regiment itself and the government would have liked. The reasons are obvious enough: Roman Catholics tended to towards the Nationalist/Republican agenda and so would have had little motivation to join part of the British military machine; and of those many Catholics who wanted to remain part of the United Kingdom significant numbers would have been understandably prevented from joining by the justified fears of fatal retribution from within their own communities. The UDR was consequently predominantly Protestant in character and this gave rise to many an accusation of bias, prejudice and outright collusion with Loyalist paramilitaries. No doubt there was an element of truth in some of these accusations over the years but the overwhelming majority of UDR members soldiered professionally and nobly. The UDR (which merged with the Royal Irish Rangers in 1992 to form the Home Service battalions of the Royal Irish Regiment) provided a degree of local knowledge and military continuity to the Army’s operation which should not be underestimated; most of all they demonstrated that the people of the Province were themselves willing to help in the most direct of ways.22 It holds two other distinctions: from its formation it was the largest infantry regiment in the British Army; and it spent the longest continuous period of time on active service of any British regiment since the Napoleonic Wars.23 Training The wide and varied nature of the duties undertaken by the Army required a comprehensive training programme. As the campaign developed so too did the training support given to units about to deploy. Although many of the troops returned again and again to Northern Ireland, there was always something new to learn, some new terrorist tactic to study, some new technique to practice. The Northern Ireland Training and Advisory Team (NITAT) delivered some of the most sharply focused and effective training that the Army has ever received

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before an operational deployment. The package covered: urban and rural patrolling; riot control; the powers of and procedures for arrest; PIRA operational techniques, capabilities, weapons and organisation; and of especial importance, the law and the rules about opening fire. It gave all ranks the opportunity to familiarise themselves the extensive range of specialist equipment that was developed largely for exclusive use in Northern Ireland. And above all perhaps, the training package went to significant lengths to explain the political and social background to the situation that the troops would find. Never before had troops been deployed on operations better trained or better informed. The training was as much about ideas and attitudes as it was about tactical techniques. In many ways it was the attitudinal training that was the most important for it attempted, with a remarkable degree of success, to humanise the context in which operations were being conducted. In practical terms this meant that soldiers understood the reasons for the use of minimum rather than overwhelming force; they understood that the justified (even fair) use of minimum force might contribute to long-term peace but that persistent over application of force might solve an immediate tactical situation but would certainly pay malign dividends later. It is a point that we develop later. The PIRA’s strategic adaptability As well as exhibiting technical adaptability, the PIRA also demonstrated that it could shape its strategic direction as events unfolded. The effects of this strategic adaptability on the Army were less obvious and clear cut than the more straightforward cause-and-effect of the technical war that we have described. However, as the PIRA’s campaign shifted in emphasis, from the early days of ‘one big push’ through to the ‘long war’ and the ‘armalite and ballot box’ tactic the British Army itself adjusted its deployments and tactics. It should perhaps be emphasised that ‘long war’ phase very specifically implied the use of politics as an adjunct to violence, not as a substitute; only towards the very end did the weight of emphasis shift emphatically onto non-violent politics. In the mid-1970s, it became obvious to the PIRA that the strategy of ‘one big push’ was not going to succeed. And so, in the safety of the prison wards at Long Kesh24 the Republican leadership prepared for a campaign that Gerry Adams believed would last for 20 years.25 The PIRA was accordingly restructured for the long haul. The ‘Green Book’, a 100-page document was issued. It set out the organisation’s beliefs and strategies which all members were required to read. An internal security unit (‘the unknowns’) was set up. Training in resistance to interrogation was introduced. Most importantly, the PIRA reorganised itself abandoning, in 1977–1978, its battalion formation in favour of a cellular structure based on four-man Active Service Units (ASUs) which, it was hoped, would tighten up the security lapses which had allowed the security forces to penetrate the Provisionals in the mid-1970s. From the second half of the 1970s, therefore, the PIRA’s operational professionalism was matched by a strategic realism that required the British Army to

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reassess its view of the anti-terrorist campaign it was conducting. An intelligence assessment of the PIRA’s capabilities written in November 1978 by Brigadier Glover concluded that the reorganisation had made the PIRA ‘less dependent upon public support . . . and less vulnerable to penetration by informers’. The report went on to say that the Provisionals now had members of sufficient calibre, and who were sufficiently well trained, to continue to prosecute their campaign.26 The statistics would appear to bear this out. One military assessment is that the PIRA in 1970 had to launch 191 attacks to kill a single member of the security forces. By 1984 that figure had fallen to one death for every 18 attacks.27 The implications were clear: the terrorist had become better at what they did; better in marksmanship, better in the reliability of their IEDs and better at maintaining security. There was no one single military response to counter the PIRA’s strategic adaptability. Each change of emphasis by the PIRA was met pragmatically as the situation dictated. Thus, as the PIRA attempted to extend its reach beyond the borders of the Province so the Army, sharing its intelligence with other national and international agencies, met the challenge either defensively (by raising the security profile of bases overseas) or more actively (as it did in Gibraltar in 1987). Similarly, at a local level, units were able to raise and lower their profile in response to the changes in the threat level generated by the PIRA’s switches of strategic emphasis. Thus the years passed by punctuated with a continuing catalogue of attacks on the security forces, on the economic and cultural infrastructure, from time to time indiscriminately on the population at large and often on specific individuals connected with the establishment or with the security forces. It followed a familiar and doleful pattern of assassinations, bombings, politically inspired street violence and fund-raising crime. Some atrocities stood out as more especially grim,28 yet somehow the population and the security forces stood firm. Meanwhile the terrorists themselves were suffering; many were killed in flagrante dilecto; very many others were arrested and convicted of terrorist-related crimes. Endgame A number of complex forces combined to influence the PIRA’s decision to abandon its armed struggle, among them political pressure, war weariness and the realisation that it was becoming counter-productive in political terms. Underpinning all of these reasons, however, was the cumulative effect of the Army’s success on the PIRA’s freedom of manoeuvre. The Army had been sufficiently flexible to meet the challenges of the PIRA’s technical adaptability; it had also been able to absorb the PIRA’s changes of strategic direction. By the early 1990s, the PIRA’s options had been severely curtailed. In the cost/benefits analysis that the PIRA conducted, it calculated that terrorism had failed. The Army had held the ring and could have continued to do so as long as it proved necessary. This self-evident truth is in wry contrast to the eccentric view

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expressed by Martin McGuinness of Sinn Féin in early 2007 that: ‘. . . we come from a tradition, the IRA tradition, that fought the British Army and the RUC to a standstill. Yes, the IRA fought the British and the RUC to a standstill.’29 This is the stuff of partisan crowd appeal, not of historical fact. On 19 September 1997, defence secretary George Robertson estimated that it cost the British taxpayer £500 million a year to maintain the Army’s operation in Northern Ireland.30 Six months before this, however, on 12 February 1997, the true cost of Operation BANNER was made apparent when Bombardier Stephen Restorick became the 700 and forty-seventh soldier to die at the hands of terrorists.

Part 2: the lessons learnt Introduction These, then, are the bare bones of the military involvement in the conflict that has blighted life for so many in Northern Ireland for the last 35 years. Although it is certainly too soon to confine the whole experience to history, it is not too soon to derive at least some substantial and universal lessons from that experience. But entertaining the ambition to identify universally applicable lessons is itself to joust with windmills. On an almost continuous basis since 1945 the British Army has been engaged in a succession of campaigns variously referred to as ‘internal security’, ‘counter insurgency’, ‘peace keeping’ and so on. From time to time various training publications have been produced with the purpose of defining how such operations and campaigns should be conducted. A comparison of the dates of publication of these volumes with the dates of the various campaigns reveals an interesting, if unsurprising, phenomenon. In effect each volume, despite attempts at camouflage, describes the conduct of the campaign that had just finished and leads the reader to suppose that this would be the way to conduct any future campaign. Hence, the troops that deployed on to the streets of Londonderry and Belfast in 1969 had in their hands the latest volume of Keeping the Peace Part III. This work relied substantially on the Army’s experience in Aden for its prescription as to how to carry out internal security duties. It is perfectly obvious that any similarities between the circumstances of Northern Ireland and Aden, or anywhere else for that matter, are to the say the least of it, tenuous. Despite these observations and the conclusion that they might inspire that there are no universal principles in these matters, we nevertheless believe that there is value in testing whether this is so. There is an important qualification before proceeding. Our analysis is predicated on the assumption that we refer to the counter-terrorist activities of democracies as opposed to those of dictatorships or totalitarian states. For these latter life is comparatively simple. Abuse of human rights, the curbing of free speech, lack of legal accountability, and carelessness for the value of human life all provide an opportunity to suppress terrorism through the use of unlimited violence. Suppression is the key here, rather than destruction or defeat. Under a

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totalitarian regime it may be possible to maintain internal peace and stability for protracted periods but if the political or social grievances remain, as they are probably bound to in a totalitarian state, so too will the latent urge to take up arms against the government. Democracies on the other hand have a much more difficult task because the very nature of a democracy places very proper limits on what security forces can do and on what governments can sanction. It is in that context that the remainder of this chapter is written. There are strategic and tactical elements in any counter-terrorist campaign. Military men refer also to the operational level of planning and action, that level that links tactical actions to the achievement of the strategic goal. In counterterrorism the distinctions between strategic and operational, and between operational and tactical, are usually blurred if not merely semantic. So for our present purposes we shall subsume the operational element into the discussion of the others. The strategic lessons There is no military solution At the strategic level the first and most fundamental lesson to be learned is that a democracy cannot defeat terrorism by military action alone. Nor even by military action in support of the civil power, the police. It is probably fair to say that when the Army first deployed onto the streets of Londonderry and Belfast in 1969 the issue seemed very simple both in description and solution. Civil unrest and rioting had occurred on such a large scale that the police had been overwhelmed. Reinforcements were needed. Troops were called out to restore law and order on the streets. The expectation at the time was that the job would be done in a matter of weeks. There was no sense that this was the beginning of a major insurgency that would last for a year or two, let alone 35 years. The shift from riot to terrorism, rapid as it was in retrospect, was sufficiently gradual for the military perception of the problem to remain as it had been at the outset, that peace in Northern Ireland was being disturbed by thugs and agitators on both sides of the sectarian divide. This could be put right by the sort of firm action that would remind the perpetrators that this was no way to behave. This after all was the British Army’s colonial experience, and it only been in 1967 that Britain had quit Aden, the last act in its withdrawal from Empire. This notion that peace could be restored by the firm application of force led imperceptibly to a conviction that, as the bombings and shootings increased in volume and intensity, the terrorist could indeed be beaten by military action. Furthermore there was a determination to do just that. It was not until 1977 that so-called primacy for counter-terrorist operations was returned to the police, perhaps the most potent outward indication that all concerned, not least of all the Army, had come to realise that the military action alone was not going to defeat the terrorist. Indeed, as Brigadier Glover is famously quoted as having written in 1979:

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By this stage it was obvious to everyone that the terrorist campaign had become so deep-rooted that the arrest or killing of terrorists and the seizure of their weapons were not in themselves sufficient to bring the campaign to an end. This is not the place to rehearse the various political actions that were taken throughout the 35 years but it is clear that the emphasis shifted substantially to the business of tackling the causes of grievance on both sides of the community, but especially perhaps on the Republican/Nationalist side. This is of course the golden key. Unless they are anarchists, terrorists do not usually materialise if there is no cause, no grievance of such substance that it is worth spilling blood in its name. Remove the cause, the grievance, the chances are that terrorism will subside and disappear. So in Northern Ireland, whether it was to do with equal opportunities, or human rights, or quality of housing, or education, successive British governments took steady action to go to the heart of the matter. Eventually the political wings of the various terrorist organisations were ensnared in legitimate politics. With the restoration of the Northern Ireland Assembly it is now certain that counter-state terrorism32 has virtually been eliminated from the Northern Irish scene. We have stated that the first and fundamental strategic lesson is that a democracy cannot defeat terrorism by military action alone. It would be better to turn this on its head and state a much more positive lesson, namely that a democracy can eliminate terrorism from its society if it concentrates on tackling the grievances that caused the terrorism in the first place. Indeed, as Prime Minister Tony Blair observed, albeit in a slightly different context: ‘Military action will be futile unless we address the conditions in which . . . terrorism breeds and the causes it preys upon.’33 We might ruefully observe that this implies that there need never be terrorism at all if we could spot incipient grievances and deal with them before they become the begetters of violence. We might further reflect that sometimes the grievance can be one that cannot be resolved. In the Northern Ireland context the Republican movement’s desire for a united Ireland could not be delivered on demand. It was an aspiration that was there to be argued for politically as the Nationalists did throughout. Republicans chose instead to fight for it; the opportunity to campaign peacefully and politically had to be restored to the point where this became an issue for which it was clearly not worth either dying or killing. Indeed, Republicanism’s trajectory, from a militant military absolutism, through the tactic of the ‘armalite and ballot box’ to the full constitutional engagement of Sinn Féin might be cited in evidence of this proposition.

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Containing the threat and maintaining the balance If military counter-terrorist action is not about defeating terrorism, what is it about? This is the next strategic lesson suggested by the Northern Ireland experience. The answer is simply stated but much more difficult to put into action as our later comments on tactics will illustrate. The job of the security forces is to keep a lid on terrorist activity to such an extent that the political activity to which we have referred can take root in a society that is as peaceful as it can be made, a society in which violence has been reduced, in the controversial words of Reginald Maudling, to an ‘acceptable level’. In suppressing terrorist activity a delicate balance must be struck between allowing too light a touch (in which case violence, not politics, dominates the scene) and applying so much force the terrorist cause is strengthened. Experience suggests that it is practically impossible to strike that balance and maintain it on a permanent basis, not least because it will be in the terrorists’ interests to upset that balance. Furthermore the terrorist must never be allowed the opportunity to think that the security forces have gone soft and that he, the terrorist, is ‘winning’. Despite these complications, if it is not a strategic intent to follow the fine dividing line between too much and too little force, the military contribution will always be more a part of the problem than of the solution. We shall elaborate on this point later. The importance of perception The next strategic lesson to be learned is that a terrorist campaign is as much about words as about bombs and bullets. The protagonists, as Templer famously observed during the Malayan Emergency, are engaged in a battle for the hearts and minds of the local population in which their words, as much as their actions, will help to shape perceptions. A counter-terrorist campaign that pays insufficient attention to the word-war is losing very much more than half the battle. The security forces in Northern Ireland had two very distinct disadvantages compared to their terrorist opponents. The first is that they had to tell the truth; if terrorists told the truth it was only because it suited them to do so. In fact the PIRA/ Sinn Féin became supreme experts in the use of propaganda, faltering only very occasionally. The world believed them whatever they said; the ticker tape parades in New York on St Patrick’s Day give eloquent evidence of this. Truth and fact were not crucial ingredients to their message, the PIRA/Sinn Féin could always beat the authorities to the headlines. Accurate official details about an event were almost always impossible to obtain quickly. This would be the case whether the subject is a terrorist incident, an air disaster or some natural calamity in another part of the world. Yet the news media were understandably always hungry for information. So far too frequently the security forces put out statements about incidents that were later proved to be inaccurate, thus merely adding to the perception that the only source of truth was the terrorist.

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The second disadvantage was perhaps even more keenly felt. The British government had an understandable aversion to using propaganda or psychological operations (psy ops) on its own account, indeed to the very words themselves.34 So in terms of moulding public opinion it seemed more often than not that the Republican movement was on the front foot, while the British government either followed on behind or failed to comment at all. Although the police were much less fettered than the Army in this regard, it was unquestionably the case that the job of the security forces was made very much more difficult by the reluctance to speak out more loudly and more frequently about what was really going on. Why was the reluctance to expose the Republicans, for the liars that they so often were, so important? In situations of this kind it is perceptions that are just as important as facts. It was perception that encouraged an ambivalent attitude to Northern Ireland amongst the population of Great Britain. It was perception that fuelled the huge moral and practical support from Republican sympathisers world-wide but especially in the US. It was perception that perpetuated the divide between the communities in Northern Ireland. And it was perception, just as much as the events around them, which encouraged the communities to support their particular terrorist organisations. There was very little effective counter to these perceptions and perhaps that too is almost impossible for a democracy to achieve. It is certainly impossible for an army to achieve on its own account except in the context of a government’s overall determination to take appropriate action. In 1971, for example, the Army was involved in two highly controversial incidents: Bloody Sunday and the introduction of internment. Both events were immensely damaging to the Army’s reputation. With internment, the Army was perceived to be implementing a one-sided policy on behalf of a partisan Stormont administration; in any event, the intelligence on which the initial round-up was based was woefully flawed. More tragically, six months earlier, in January 1971, elements of the 1st Battalion The Parachute Regiment had become involved in a major operation during the course of which 13 civilians were shot dead (a fourteenth died later) in circumstances that are still being disputed in court, 35 years later. Whatever the truth behind these incidents the perception of the Army’s actions, especially when ‘spun’ by Republican propagandists, was immensely damaging. The rift between the Army and the Catholic population was widened. The rule of law The next lesson, a fundamental principle for a democracy’s army, is that it should operate within the law. This is not a new lesson. It is one that has been understood with increasing conviction since, arguably, the enquiry into General Dyer’s action in the Jallianwalla Bagh in Amritsar in 1921.35 The Army’s Northern Ireland experience has revealed a complex public attitude towards military action taken outside the law. It has also shown how vulnerable government forces can be to the calculated exploitation of infringements by political and

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legal sympathisers with the terrorist cause. The very small numbers of wellpublicised incidents in which soldiers have been convicted of murder in Northern Ireland make the point all too well. The negative political and moral effects of these incidents were much greater in impact than might have been predicted by their rarity. The complex public attitude to which we refer is the product of a collision of views about what it is permissible for counter-terrorists to do. On the one hand, there is the unequivocal official and military position that all actions must be taken within the law. And furthermore there is the clear understanding that when the law appears to have been broken proper investigation and if necessary prosecution should follow. This was the position from the outset for the very important reason that a democracy is fatally undermined morally if it matches the terrorist atrocity for atrocity. Atrocity breeds contempt, fear and loathing: none of these things help to create an atmosphere conducive to the peaceful political activity that will bring a terrorist campaign to an end. So for moral and practical reasons there is no merit in setting out to operate outside the law, even in the highly unlikely event of finding any generals or others prepared to put their name to such an intention. There is a difficulty in sticking to the law. The terrorist, himself having no regard for the law, places himself at an immediate advantage, for by definition he operates outside the law. For him the law is there to be flouted when he is planning and attacking, to be exploited when he is caught and ridiculed when he is sentenced and finally released. A terrorist’s actions are not constrained by the legalities or by any sense of morality. The only constraints are those imposed by himself in terms of how far he thinks he can go before he stands in danger of alienating the domestic and international support on which he depends. So although the terrorists and the security forces in Northern Ireland have been boxing in the same ring only one side has been using Queensbury Rules. Under these conditions it is not surprising that the terrorist has been able to land very many painful blows. These blows have been the price that a democracy has had to pay to defend itself against this form of attack. Given these conditions it is remarkable how successful the security forces have been in their bid to preserve law and order. It is equally notable that good training, good leadership and the inherent quality of the troops themselves ensured that the Army understood the need to stay within the law and the reason for it. It should be noted in parenthesis that similar conditions apply internationally; British troops operating overseas do so under the terms of international and local domestic law; very often their opponents do not. One might suppose therefore that, whether in Northern Ireland or elsewhere, it would be hard work persuading the troops of the need to operate within the law, or that in some way having to do so would adversely affect their morale. In fact, and leaving aside the very small number of people who got it wrong, neither supposition was true. There were difficulties, certainly, in interpreting and understanding the particulars of the law. There were irritations, too, that the strictures of the law appeared from time to time to allow the

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terrorist to ‘get away with it’. Very few officers and soldiers, though, needed much persuasion of the essential rightness of being seen to be on the right side of the law. For those few that might have wavered, unequivocal leadership and military discipline were enough to have the desired effect. That all represents one side of the complex public attitude to which we have referred. On the other side, there has been a natural tendency to argue that since terrorists have no respect for human life or for the rights of others, there is no reason to give any such respect in return. It has been further argued that if extreme measures are needed to protect the population from danger they should be taken. This seemed to be a particularly prevalent view during the major PIRA bombing campaigns in England. It was also a view expressed in Northern Ireland by those who only wanted peace and were exasperated by the continuing violence. Such ideas are obviously so wide of the moral mark that it is hard to imagine, except in the case of a total collapse of society, that a democracy could ever cast aside this essential principle of counter-terrorism. Police primacy If it is the law that is to be the regulator of military action, then it must be the police that must be in charge. This is the next principle of counter-terrorism. This principle was not followed in Northern Ireland until 1977 when so-called police primacy was reintroduced. Police primacy made a clear statement that the government did not regard the situation as a war but a matter of law and order (that terrorists were criminals not combatants). It was therefore a matter for the civil authority, the police. The concept of an army working in close co-operation with, but ultimately subordinate to, a police force is both interesting and challenging for both parties. The pursuit of law and order by the police and the achievement of a military mission are quite different things, philosophically and practically. It is not therefore intended as a criticism to say that police think and behave differently to an army when confronting a situation, whether in the strategic or tactical context. Here are some examples. First, the concept of a long-term campaign strategy is largely a foreign one to a policeman as well as, incidentally, to a politician. Second, the more dominant driver for a policeman is to find immediate solutions to current issues, the prevention, detection and prosecution of crime in other words. Third, the willingness to take risk is always, and properly so, qualified in a policeman’s mind by the imperative that the safety of the public comes first. And fourth and above all, army officers are by training and instinct naturally inclined to want to take charge and are expected to do so. Against this background members of the Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC), and latterly the Police Service of Northern Ireland, while recognising the need for military support, would nevertheless have infinitely preferred to have maintained law and order on their own. Furthermore they were the local experts and served continuously; army units and individuals came and went. So in this unique and remarkable relationship there have been tensions. Nevertheless it has

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been one the notable features of the ‘troubles’ that the British Army and the police learned to work so well together almost exclusively in a spirit of comradeship and mutual respect; each learned to compromise and to understand the ethos and professional culture of the other. Had it not been so, the principle of police primacy could not have worked in Northern Ireland. It was achieved, perhaps not with total consistency over the years, by strong leadership in both parties, by a common recognition that the job could only be done by cooperation between professional soldiers and policemen at all levels, and by forming strong working relationships and lasting friendships in the face of a common adversary. The tactical lessons So much for the strategic view: the tactical lessons and principles are of course set in the context of those at the strategic level and at the tactical level the actions of individual soldiers and relatively junior commanders can have an equally profound effect on the strategic course of the campaign, whether positive or negative. We do not intend in this chapter to comment in detail on the lessons learned, sometimes the hard way, on how the various types of military operations should be conducted. The techniques for carrying out foot patrols, vehicle check points, searches and so on have great interest in the training establishments. Military manuals set them out with great clarity. But for our present purposes these details can be put to one side. Intelligence, proportionate action, impartiality, and minimum force; these are the main principles on which we intend to comment, for if the troops conducting operations get these things right everything else will follow. Intelligence It is appropriate to start with a look at intelligence, that is to say that information which tells the security forces who the terrorists and their supporters are, what their intended targets and tactics are, and what weaponry they have available. It is a fundamental principle that all military action should be, in the jargon, intelligence-led. Patrols go out for a specific purpose to specific places; searches are targeted on places indicated by analysis of the intelligence. Throughout the last 35 years the Army has devoted a very considerable amount of time, money and manpower to the business of gathering, analysing and exploiting intelligence. Not surprisingly, given the circumstances at the time, a poor start was made in terms of intelligence gathering. It took time to build-up the knowledge, the surveillance network and the means to analyse the information that became increasingly available. During this build-up period it was inevitable that the wrong people were arrested, the wrong houses searched and too many terrorist attacks slipped successfully through the net. As the Army learnt with the introduction of internment, such intelligence failures, especially when innocent

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people were detained, were propaganda gifts for the Republicans and often served to undermine the hearts and minds element of the Army’s campaign. The situation steadily improved, however, not least because of the effective and increasingly close co-operation between all the intelligence gathering agencies, including of course the police. More terrorist operations were thwarted, more weapons and bomb-making equipment was seized, more arrests and convictions of terrorists were achieved. Naturally, no matter how good the intelligence system, there could never be absolute certainty about terrorist intentions. In a perfect world the security forces would know all the necessary details all the time, while the terrorist would have no suspicion that he was compromised. Obviously the perfect world does not exist. Perhaps we shall never know the true extent of the intelligence successes (the failures have been all too obvious) over the length of the campaign. But it would not be unreasonable to speculate that the violence and human misery caused by terrorism on both sides of the sectarian divide was substantially curbed by the effort put in to gathering, and exploiting, intelligence. So the first crucial lesson to be emphasised is that the tactical intelligence function should never be underestimated or under resourced. Proportionate action The second tactical principle concerns proportionate action. By this we mean that security forces should take no more military action than the circumstances require. This is because in a counter-terrorist operation almost all military action is taken amongst a population that, whether supportive, neutral or hostile, needs as far as possible to be able to live its life without undue interference by the security forces. There is a balance between over-activity and under-activity and, given the previously noted terrorist aim to provoke over-reaction, it is a very difficult balance to strike. To explain why, we need to refer again to intelligence. The job of the security forces is to protect life and property. Without perfect intelligence a blanket of deterrence has to be thrown over the situation. This means, for example, patrols that discourage terrorist activity, vehicle check points that intercept the movement of weapons and bombs, and networks of surveillance posts and cameras that watch for people and vehicles of interest. These military activities unquestionably make it difficult and often impossible for the terrorists to carry out their plans. But at the same time they are bound to disrupt the lives of ordinary people as they go about their daily business. Such disruption is acceptable as long as the population can see that there is a need for it. Of course there were specific areas of Belfast, Londonderry and the rural areas where the presence of the security forces has always been profoundly unpopular. For those populations the balance between over- and under-activity could only ever be properly struck on those occasions when the security force presence was clearly aimed at preventing expected attacks from across the sectarian divide. But even in these areas it was very important that military activity was kept at the lowest level that the situation permitted, however inherently unacceptable that level may have been.

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Generally speaking if actions were proportionate to the situation an uneasy equilibrium could be maintained. But, as we have stated, the intelligence picture in Northern Ireland was at best imperfect; the extent and accuracy of the available intelligence more often than not has fallen short of what was needed. And throughout it was never far from the minds of the security forces that, as the PIRA itself declared more than once, the terrorist needed to succeed only occasionally while the security forces had to succeed every time; so a loose military grip risked high impact consequences. The principle of proportionate action applied just as much to the extensive construction of fortified posts and bases throughout the Province’s trouble spots. It is self-evident that the construction of a heavily protected, ugly and dominating base in the heart of West Belfast, or the network of observation towers in south Armagh, would certainly antagonise and alienate the population. In contrast the equally intrusive chain of permanent vehicle check points in Fermanagh was constructed at least in part to provide a literally concrete reassurance to the Protestant population that protection from sectarian attack was at hand. But in general all these constructions provided the Republican movement with yet another propaganda tool to exploit. Their dominating physical presence could be filmed and photographed in such a way as to provide powerful images that emphasised ‘brutal oppression’ by the British state. The negative effect generated by all these bases had at first to be subordinated to the greater need to station troops where they were most needed to keep terrorism under some form of control. In the latter years of the campaign the balance between military and police requirements and the sensibilities of the local populations shifted significantly away from the interests of the security forces, mirroring the gradual shift from Republican violence to Republican politics. Despite continuing terrorist activity, bases were abandoned or demolished and watchtowers began to disappear, although never at the speed demanded by the terrorists and their political spokesmen. The lesson is that an army must be as careful about its campaign infrastructure as it should be about the tactical conduct of its operations if it is to avoid alienating the population more profoundly than it is in any case bound to do. Impartiality The third tactical principle is to act with impartiality in those circumstances in which a military force is placed between the two sides of a divided community. No doubt there will be many critics and commentators who take the view that the military involvement in Northern Ireland was anything but impartial. The weight of military activity was undoubtedly, but by no means exclusively, directed against the Republican movement but this was because it was from the Republican terrorists that most, but not all, of the attacks against security forces came. It was the PIRA and others that forced the issue. So the military response was inevitable even if in making it the Army provided the terrorist with much useful propaganda material which was exploited to very good effect.

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It is not the soldier’s business to take sides in situations of this kind; if he can be partial at all it must be to the principle of right and wrong, to the support of the democratic state that he serves. His actions must be seen in the context of the proper response to a circumstance and not to a comparison of the merits of one side or the other, even if that very impartiality alienates him from some who might otherwise support him. Furthermore his actions should not be against a cause, whatever his personal views might be, but against the terrorism carried out in the name of that cause. It is regrettably the case that not all soldiers in Northern Ireland behaved with proper impartiality all the time. Collusion with terrorists on both sides, but usually with Loyalists, was a scourge that was made no less damaging or serious by the statistically tiny number of cases that occurred. The actions of a few tainted the actions of the many, providing juicy fodder with which to encourage moral and practical support for the terrorist both at home and abroad. Not only were these actions wrong morally and legally, they were counter-productive. Minimum force The fourth tactical principle is the use of minimum force. On the face of it this is a concept that has little enough meaning to those on whom force is applied, since for them any force is presumably too much. But one of the curiosities of the Northern Ireland experience, and perhaps more generally, is that those on the receiving end of military force generally did not make an issue of it if they knew that it was justified. This notion applied whether it was a question of use of lethal force against terrorists caught in the act, the control of public disorder or merely the taking of measures to ensure public safety. Only when there was a perception that excessive force had been used did significant protests materialise, supported by the ever alert propaganda machine. These helped to generate, for example, the high profile controversy about the socalled ‘shoot to kill’ policy and about the use of the riot control gun firing rubber and later plastic baton rounds. The term ‘shoot to kill’ was a deliberate and gross misrepresentation of both official policy and tactical practice. The British Army has for a very long time trained its soldiers to open fire with the purpose of killing the enemy.36 Indeed the Army’s shooting training manual, applicable to all forms of hostilities, was entitled Shoot to Kill. This was skilfully turned on its head by PIRA propagandists. They successfully suggested that the security forces, including the Army, systematically set out to kill terrorist suspects and supporters instead of arresting them and bringing them to trial. This propaganda coup was helped on its way by a small number of well-publicised incidents in which soldiers and police opened fire outside the rules of engagement37 and were later found guilty of murder, and by others (the ambush of a PIRA active service unit at Loughgall on 8 May 1987 for example) where there were accusations of excessive firing, more than was strictly necessary to achieve the purpose. The controversy over rubber and plastic baton rounds was even more complex but equally embedded in the propaganda war. In an exactly similar

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way, the argument was fuelled by some people being killed and badly injured by weapons38 that were supposed to be non-lethal in their effect; and latterly by close and critical study of the number of rounds fired and under what circumstances. All this reinforces very strongly the lesson that not only is the use of excessive force indefensible in its own right, but it too, along with a failure to be impartial, is highly counter-productive. This perhaps required elaboration. By definition a state of law and order is a non-violent state. The intrusion of violence, whether legal or not, necessarily introduces fear and alarm into the community. So the aim of creating an atmosphere in which politics can flourish is undermined. A terrorist caught redhanded might be shot dead by a single well-aimed shot to the head; the circumstances might indicate that this was justified and legal. Nevertheless there would be the potential for the terrorist organisation to exploit the death in propaganda terms, the more so if it were not just a single shot but several. Clever manipulation of the facts can quickly lead to popular sympathy lying with the dead terrorist and not with the security forces; the aura of martyrdom can be applied. How much better, therefore, for an arrest to be made. It is substantially less violent (and therefore in keeping with the aim of maintaining a state of law and order); and a murderer caught in the act and put on trial attracts much less public sympathy. To catch terrorists red handed it is necessary to focus on intelligence; the circle is squared.

Part 3: Conclusion We conclude this chapter with some reflections. First, those that claim that the British Army’s presence in Northern Ireland has been part of the problem are quite right. In fact anyone who has had any connection in any capacity with the ‘Irish question’ these last 35 years or so has also was part of the problem. The presence of armed troops on the streets and in the countryside is neither desirable nor normal. That very presence is bound on its own to add tension and animosity to the scene, whatever the troops may do, good or bad. However the Army has not just been part of the problem. It unquestionably has also been part of the solution. Speculation as to what might have been the outcome had the Army not been called in to support the police in 1969 or later is just that: speculation. But is it unreasonable to suggest that a state of anarchy would have prevailed, that casualties and economic destruction would have been far worse than they in any case were? Would Sinn Féin/the PIRA have come to the negotiating table if they had not seen so clearly that they would not achieve their aims by violence? We think not. The very substantial military effort and patience devoted to Northern Ireland over the last 35 years was the price that had to be paid to keep the terrorist campaigns and inter-sectarian violence under sufficient control to allow the political process gradually to dominate the efforts to find a solution to the ‘troubles’. The 747 soldiers who were killed in the process, together with 300 and one of their police comrades, each paid a very high personal price for this achievement.

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Through them it became possible to see the prospect of peace; they were indeed part of the solution. Second, although it is undeniable that a number of actions were taken by members of the Army that were reprehensible, the people of Northern Ireland, and particularly the terrorists and their supporters, were very fortunate that they had to contend with the British and another army. Despite the things that went wrong, the British Army displayed a remarkable degree of restraint and tolerance. It showed maturity in its approach to working jointly with the police. Institutionally and generally individually it displayed a natural instinct to behave humanely. It was indifferent to the claims and counter-claims of the protagonists on either side of the sectarian divide. The quality of its training and of its troops helped to produce an operational record that an objective history will judge to have been an extraordinary achievement. Third, despite that record, the Northern Ireland experience should tell us that deploying an army in support of the civil power is an action of last resort. Only in extremis should this be contemplated. To order such a deployment is in fact to acknowledge that normal politics have failed. Once a situation has become so bad that the police cannot cope without military assistance on a permanent and long-term basis, the conditions have been set for conflict. It was politicians that ordered the troops to deploy; in future it must be politicians who ensure that that stage is not reached again. To adapt a well-publicised prime-ministerial slogan,39 a government’s aim must be to be tough on terrorism and tough on the causes of terrorism. The latter is unquestionably the more important. And finally it has often been said, and with justification, that the Northern Ireland operation proved to be an invaluable training experience for very large numbers of commanders at all levels, particularly at the more junior ranks. It has been this experience that has helped the British Army forge an unrivalled reputation for effective intervention in the Balkans, Afghanistan, Sierra Leone and Iraq, deploying with confidence skills and attitudes that have been honed in Belfast and south Armagh. Specialists such as the bomb disposal teams seized the opportunity to become the finest in the world. Invaluable as this has been, and although it is a source of profound professional pride, there will be no British officer or soldier who ever served in Northern Ireland who will not have wished that their experience could have been gained in some other part of the world. There is something deeply sad about a nation’s army deploying within its own borders to face hostility from parts of its own population. It is distasteful and unglamorous. If, as this chapter is written, the armed conflict in Northern Ireland really is at an end, the British Army will be only too glad to see the Province returned to a state of peaceful normality. It will take much pride in the part that it played to bring that about but it is unlikely that there will be any triumphalism or glory seeking. It has all been much too close to home; it is home.

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Notes 1 The codename for the Army’s deployment throughout the period. 2 By way of contrast, the Army’s shortest MACP took place in London in April 1980 when the Metropolitan Police handed control of the Iranian Embassy siege to 22 SAS Regiment. MACP in this instance lasted just 11 minutes. 3 Source: British Army Medal Office, May 2004. 4 This figure includes former and serving members of the Regular Army, the Territorial Army and the UDR/Royal Irish Regiment. 5 Holy Cross Primary School and Drumcree are particularly well-known examples. 6 The most infamous was the Omagh bomb in 1998. 7 Indeed, before 1969 Northern Ireland was considered to be one of the more desirable postings in the Army, with unrivalled opportunities for field sports. 8 We focus on the PIRA because this was the leading terrorist grouping. There were of course many other factions within Republican terrorism, each of which posed its own particular threat. 9 Dewar, Michael (1996) The British Army in Northern Ireland (London: Arms and Armour), pp. 51–52. 10 The OIRA ceasefire had come into effect on 29 May 1972. 11 Neé John Stevenson, an Englishman and former JNCO in the RAF. 12 Taylor Peter (1997) Provos: The IRA and Sinn Fein (London: Bloomsbury), p. 143. 13 Sources for number of military fatalities caused by shooting: Deaths as a Result of the Northern Ireland Security Situation, www.ruc.police.uk and Taylor, see note 12. 14 Ibid., p. 134. In point of fact the car bomb appears to have been developed by accident. A batch of highly volatile home-made explosive known as the ‘Black Stuff’ had been sent from Dublin (where its inventor had blown himself up making a second batch) to Belfast but, given the fate of its inventor, it was considered too dangerous to use. As Brendan Hughes recalls: The stuff was unstable so when it got to Belfast, it needed to be got rid of. It had to be destroyed. Someone took a decision to put it in their car and drive it into town. He gave a warning and blew the stuff away that way. And that’s how the first car bomb came about. (Taylor, Provos, p. 134) 15 16 17 18

19 20 21 22 23 24

Or indeed elsewhere until the horrors of Iraq from 2004 onwards. See ibid., p. 158. Moloney, Ed (2002) A Secret History of the IRA (London: Allen Lane), p. 174. Culverts are standard features of roads; flood and rain water flow through them as part of the drainage systems designed to prevent the erosion of the road surfaces. They are often big enough to allow a man to crawl through them and they provide a readymade hiding place for IEDs. These can then be detonated from a distance as a vehicle passes over, with devastating effect. The full story is well told in a recent history of bomb disposal in Northern Ireland: Chris Ryder (2005) A Special Kind of Courage (London: Methuen). Eliot, S. and and Flackes, W.D. (1994) Northern Ireland: A Political Directory, 1968–1993 (Belfast: Blackstaff), p. 652. See John Potter, (1997) A Testimony to Courage – The Regimental History of the Ulster Defence Regiment, (London: Pen & Sword Books Limited). Over 200 UDR soldiers were killed and more than 400 wounded either on or off duty during the campaign. And in 2006 it was awarded the Conspicuous Gallantry Cross by HM the Queen at a parade in Belfast in recognition of the great service that they had rendered to the Nation. Later renamed the Maze Prison, and popularly known as the H Blocks.

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See note 17. Quoted in ibid., p. 174. See note 20. The most infamous of these occurred in on 27 August 1979, when 18 members of the 2nd Battalion The Parachute Regiment and 1st Battalion The Queen’s Own Highlanders were killed at Warrenpoint, on the border with the Irish Republic. This was the day on which Lord Mountbatten and some of his family were murdered while on a boating trip off the west coast of Ireland. Part of the transcript of the speech by Martin McGuinness proposing the Ard Chomhairle motion at the Extraordinary Ard Fheis 2007. See www.sinnfeinonline. co./news/3234. Ibid., p. 648. Holland, Jack (1981) Too Long a Sacrifice: Life and Death in Northern Ireland Since 1969 (New York: Dodd, Mead & Co), p. 143. We make a distinction here between counter-state terrorism and the sort of brutal gangsterism that is even now a frequent feature of life in certain parts of Northern Ireland and which is more often than not perpetrated by those who have been terrorists. Address to Labour Party conference, 28 September 2004. Quoted on www.labour.org. uk/2004conferencepages. For this reason, as well as for the more prosaic reason that they were deemed unlikely to succeed and had, in any case, fallen into disuse, the Army never seriously contemplated a campaign of psychological operations in Northern Ireland. The Amritsar incident took place at a time of political agitation in the Punjab; the authorities were concerned about the possibility of insurrection. Gatherings were banned. General Dyer led his troops to the Jallianwallah Bagh and ordered his men to open fire on the crowd. A Parliamentary enquiry censured Dyer and he was forced to resign from the Army. For an excellent analysis, see Nigel Collett (2005) The Butcher of Amritsar (Hambledon and London). There were three principle reasons for this. First, a dead enemy cannot return to the battle later. Second, it is difficult enough to hit a human target without adding the extra difficulty of aiming for a non-lethal hit on a limb for example. And third, opening fire with the intention of deliberately missing, merely to intimidate, risks hitting some completely unconnected target elsewhere. The well-known Yellow Card, issued to all soldiers on duty in Northern Ireland. Calls continue to be made to ban the use of these weapons but those making these demands do not suggest what else, other than the use of avowedly lethal force, that is to say rifle fire, can be used to control riots. ‘Tough on crime, tough on the causes of crime.’

12 From war of manoeuvre to war of position A brief history of the Provisional IRA and the Irish Republic John Horgan Introduction The true cost of the Irish ‘troubles’ will forever be impossible to measure. While the intractible conflict has to date claimed almost 4,000 lives since the most recent phase of civil unrest and a vicious paramilitary campaign since beginning in 1969, the suffering and pain caused by the ‘troubles’ has been astronomical. In a deeply divided society, this bitter ethno-Nationalist conflict recently culminated in an uneasy peace process which, despite setbacks expected of and inherent in such processes, remains progressively steady. Whether this peace will continue to be meaningful or represents merely another period of breathing space in Ireland’s ongoing Troubles, it is too early to know, although most remain cautiously optimistic that the worst days of the conflict are over. While most analyses of the Irish conflict tend to centre on activities in Northern Ireland, this chapter will attempt to provide a tentative commentary on the significance of the Republic of Ireland in the context of the ‘troubles’, and in particular on the relationship between the Irish Republic and the Provisional IRA. It is beyond the scope of this chapter to provide anything even resembling a definitive assessment, rather the purpose of this chapter will be to provide an overview of the historical development of the Irish ‘troubles’ (with the Irish Republic in focus) as well as provide a sense of the context behind current and expected future developments in the Irish Republic for the Provisional IRA and its political face, Sinn Féin.

Origins What we have seen across the whole of Ireland since the Good Friday peace Agreement of 1998 represents the culmination of groundbreaking political efforts at the end of current phase of the Irish conflict. The beginning of this latest phase of conflict can be traced to the early 1970s as a result of the ‘troubles’ originating in Northern Ireland when Loyalist and Republican paramilitary groups became part of a massive resurgence of civil unrest and paramilitary activity that continued unabated up until their respective ceasefires in late 1994. Beginning in January 1970 the Provisional Irish Republican Army (PIRA, or

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simply the IRA) developed a brutal campaign of urban terrorism aimed principally at undermining while seeking to remove the British state presence from Northern Ireland as well as restoring Ireland into a 32-county unified state, as it was before under the rule of the British Crown. Although Irish Republicanism can trace its political roots back to the ‘United Irishmen’ of the late eighteenth century and theoretically even traces its roots back to the beginnings of Irish resistance against Crown rule of Ireland as early as the twelfth century when England first claimed sovereignty over the entire country), it was not until Wolfe Tone’s United Irishmen in the 1780s–1790s that an organised insurgent campaign against British interests first began to see fruition. The triggering factor in this was the seventeenth-century plantation of Ireland when ‘the British Crown sponsored English and Scottish Protestants to settle in the north-eastern part of [Ireland]’ (Kennedy-Pipe, 1997, p. 8). Inspired by the French Revolution, the United Irishmen decided that British attempts to subdue Nationalists need not succeed and would, as in the case of the French paysans, be met with fierce resistance. The Irish Republican Brotherhood (an evolution of the United Irishmen) was the vanguard of Irish Nationalist force since the mid-1800s, and in the early twentieth century joined the newly formed Irish Volunteers. This Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB) and Irish Volunteers alliance was to later call itself the ‘Irish Republican Army’. While throughout the nineteenth century, the efforts of Irish Nationalists fighting for separation from Britain culminated in the establishment and development of the IRB and the Fenian movement (based in both Ireland and the United States), the first significant attempt (and certainly the most well known historical example in modern times) to undermine the British presence in Ireland came in 1916, when the IRA took control over a British army garrison near Dublin’s General Post Office in Sackville Street (now O’Connell Street) during Easter. In military terms, the ‘Rising’ was a disastrous failure, but the act achieved immense political significance later when following the executions of several of the leaders of the rising, Irish nationalism and sympathy for the IRA’s cause – profoundly fuelled by the severity with which the rising was subdued, as well as subsequent British military activity against Nationalists – re-emerged throughout Ireland: partly because of the treatment meted out to those behind the Easter Rising, Irish nationalism in the south of Ireland would quickly undergo a profound renaissance.

Breaking points Between 1918 and 1921, the IRA waged an insurgent paramilitary campaign directed against British security services based in Dublin and other parts of Ireland, both in the north and south of the country. The insurgency was led by Michael Collins (under the direction of Eamonn de Valera). Collins directed intelligence efforts in the Irish Volunteers and simultaneously held the post of Minister for Finance in the Dáil (Dáil Eireann – the home of the Irish government). Kennedy-Pipe (1997, p.16) notes that the ‘combination of functions

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summed up the dualistic nature of politics and the military in Ireland at this time’, an historical theme echoed in the structure of the pre-1994 ceasefire PIRA. She describes the response to Collins and his IRA (pp. 16–17): During the period 1920–1921, Crown forces suffered losses of 525 killed, while 707 civilians died. The British government banned the Dáil, proscribed Nationalist organisations, reinforced the garrisons in Ireland, and from the beginning of 1920, began to recruit in England for auxiliary “forces” which could be sent to Ireland. The result was the so-called “Black and Tans”. These volunteers were recruited from former servicemen, criminals and mercenaries, and by May over 1,000 had arrived in Ireland. The brutality of their behaviour, as they raced around the countryside in armoured cars engaging in what was essentially a policy of counter-terror, became infamous. In particular, they undertook a strategy of reprisals, that is attacking the property or families of those connected to Sinn Féin . . . The counter-response from Collins and the IRA was ferocious, their campaign reaching previously unacceptable levels of violence. However, by the end of 1921, Collins’ campaign had succeeded in procuring a vital political victory – British troops began to leave southern Ireland and by late 1922 they had completely gone. For the first time in the history of Anglo-Irish relations, the British government would renegotiate its presence in Ireland. Faced with what would certainly amount to a prolonged and arduous military campaign against the British (and obviously a resurgent British response), Eamonn de Valera sent Collins to negotiate what became known as ‘The Treaty’. In return for a cessation of military operations by Collins’ forces against any and all representatives and symbols of the British establishment in Ireland, the British government, under Lloyd George, would agree to withdraw its presence from 26 of the 32 counties of Ireland. It would still pave the way for the Irish to be able to create its own ‘Free State’, but six counties in the north (Antrim, Derry, Down, Fermanagh, Tyrone, and Armagh) would become and remain ‘Northern Ireland’ and also remain, with its Protestant majority, under British rule, as laid down in the 1920 Government of Ireland Act. With this, a local government was established in the north, and 1922 saw the official birth of ‘Northern Ireland’ with the official birth of partition – possibly the single greatest motivating and justifying factor sustaining Republican ideology even to this day. Many of Collins’ followers and colleagues were ecstatic at the perceived success that the Treaty brought with it – the prevailing belief was that in time, the six counties would eventually be incorporated into a united Ireland. However, others believed that he was wrong to ‘surrender’ the Northern counties and that the deal struck with the British was a betrayal of all that militant Irish resistance stood for and held dear. Nevertheless, on 7 January 1922, a 64–57 majority accepted the Treaty in the Dáil, giving ‘dominion status’ to the six counties in Northern Ireland. As Edward Moxon-Browne (1981) describes: ‘[l]inks with Britain that remained, and stuck in the throats of the anti-Treaty

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Sinn Féin. . . included a Governor-General, an oath to the Crown for members of the Dáil . . . and some concessions to Britain over military bases’ (p. 148). The year 1922 also marked the breaking point for those opposed to the agreement. A split ensued – between Collins and his pro-Treaty Republicans on one side, and de Valera and his anti-Treaty Republicans on the other. From 1922–1923, a bloody civil war ensued in the 26 counties, in which the Free State forces, led by Collins’ now legitimate army of the state, emerged victorious. Anti-treaty Republicans were undermined, disorganised, scattered, and practically defeated (see Bowyer-Bell, 1979). Collins himself was shot and killed by one of his former anti-Treaty Republican allies in his native west Cork in an apparent attempt to negotiate a settlement between the warring sides. Sinn Féin, under de Valera, reorganised and re-emerged to contest the 1923 elections but would not take their seats in the Irish parliament in a blatant refusal to swear allegiance to the British Crown. However, in 1926, ‘finding this abstentionism unproductive’ (Moxon-Browne, 1981, p. 148) de Valera founded the new ‘Fianna Fail’ party (translated from the Gaelic as ‘Soldiers of Destiny’) and entered the Dail. However, despite such political developments by de Valera and his ‘Fianna’, Moxon-Browne describes: ‘[c]ontinuing violence from the [increasingly isolated from de Valera] IRA in the 1930s was a constant reminder that it claimed to represent the ‘real Republic’, a claim that still found some sympathy among the public at large’ (p. 149). By the outbreak of the Second World War however, and having been declared officially illegal by 1936, the IRA’s presence in the south had been significantly weakened, due to a combination of absorption into state bodies after de Valera formed the first Irish government (later becoming its head for many years), as well as several constitutional reforms phased in by de Valera. Although on several fronts, the IRA’s raison d’être was being well and truly debased, the problem of partition remained (the border between the Free State and the north having been made official in 1925). During the second World War (during which the Free State remained neutral in an effort to assert its independence from Britain), de Valera’s view of the IRA as a by then unnecessary entity (given the gradual, but steady progress of his and Fianna Fail’s political programme of erosion of the British influence across Ireland) were realised with an orchestrated crackdown on the IRA which saw the introduction of special legislation (Offences Against the State Act 1939) to combat what remained of the organisation. The IRA was now extremely weak, but despite a prevailing sense of pragmatism in a new Ireland in its infancy, Fianna Fail and de Valera still ‘sympathised with the aspirations of the IRA, if not with its methods, when it mounted an international publicity campaign on the partition issue in the post-war period’ (Moxon-Browne, 1981, p. 149). In April 1949, the Irish Free State was declared a Republic. The IRA were still not defeated, neither in the spirit of its 1916 predecessors nor militarily, and re-emerged when it began to wage a sporadic terrorist campaign up to and during the 1950s, but with relative little popular support from fellow Irish citizens (Bowyer-Bell, 1979) north and south. The

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IRA maintained its activities in Northern Ireland, and continued to strike against symbols of the British establishment there, primarily identifiable members of the security forces (Drake, 1991, p. 43; also Coogan, 1995a). The IRA also denied both the legitimacy of the Dublin and London Governments, arguing that it was still the true successor of the original legitimate government of Ireland. The IRA did not emerge however as a significant fighting force until events which shook the foundations of the Northern Ireland state in the late 1960s. Following the impressive lack of success brought by the IRA’s border campaign in the mid-1950s to the early 1960s (a brief campaign spurred on by the failure of the Irish government’s attempt to oppose the continued partition of the country, and the perceived indifference of the British government towards a demand for debate), Cathal Goulding, a Dublin man who had led the IRA’s military campaign in previous years, began to realise the lack of success which the IRA’s sporadic, under-resourced campaign of violence was bringing with it. Throughout the 1960s, Goulding internally advocated that the IRA should shift its efforts on to more overt political efforts via Sinn Féin. Simultaneously, radical social upheaval in Northern Ireland culminating in street protests in the late 1960s saw the emergence of the Northern Ireland civil rights movements (whose first march took place in August 1968), advocating equal rights in what was seen as a government controlled society that appeared to favour those identified as Protestant (and therefore, ‘British’) citizens. Since 1921, power in Northern Ireland had lain squarely within the control of the Unionist Party at Stormont (home of the Northern Ireland government), which led to a ‘certain complacency in its own ranks and growing dissatisfaction among with Catholic minority with its virtual exclusion from meaningful political activity’ (MoxonBrowne, 1981, p. 150). Though the true extent of discrimination that existed is a hotly contested historical argument, it was becoming increasingly evident that Nationalists in Northern Ireland, who perceived themselves as Irish, certainly felt they were being discriminated against on several fronts, socially, economically and politically – that northern Nationalists were lumbered with a secondclass status had long served as a source of tension, but until now had not reached a flashpoint. Tensions between Nationalist and Unionist neighbours reached boiling point and emerged via violent conflict throughout the 1960s, when mobs of youths from Unionist areas organised and conducted what essentially were perceived as organised persecution against Nationalist families in largely Unionist-occupied areas of Northern Ireland towns and cities. Violent backlashes from Nationalists directed against their Unionist neighbours followed. It is widely accepted that Britain’s reluctance at the time to become involved in quelling the conflict in Northern Ireland was brought to an end both by quick escalation of the conflict (and later, actions by the Provisional IRA were to ensure its continued involvement) and the fact that the Irish government in the Republic announced that it would, in the words of the Irish Prime Minister at the time, Jack Lynch, ‘no longer stand idly by’ if the British government did not intervene to protect northern Nationalists. In an effort to contain the overflowing inter- and intra-community violence, the British government at Westminster was

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forced to respond, and the British Army was drafted in to Northern Ireland (ironically) in defence of the Nationalists from Unionist mobs, and subsequently vice versa. Before the world’s media, Northern Ireland was descending into urban chaos, with attacks and violence on a scale never seen before, Nationalists attacking Unionists, Unionists attacking Nationalists, and all attacks with upwards escalation in their ferocity and scope. Nationalist areas began to fall victim to fierce fire-bomb attacks by Loyalist gangs that quickly became organised and co-ordinated by local ringleaders into veritable paramilitary structures. During all of this, the Republic of Ireland-based IRA leadership consistently proclaimed that its units were actually active in Northern Ireland. With an obvious presence in certain sections of the civil rights movement, on the ground an armed presence to protect Nationalists was nowhere to be seen. Amid this trouble, however, in December of 1969, delegates from the IRA, including all leadership figures, held a top secret ‘General Army Convention’ in Dublin to discuss the IRA response to the conflict engulfing the North. Two proposals ‘sponsored by [Cathal] Goulding’ (Coogan, 1995b, p. 95), the then IRA Chiefof-Staff, were to be ratified. The first of these proposals was to establish a National Liberation Front between Sinn Féin, the Irish Communist party and other left-wing groups. The other to drop the traditional Republican policy of abstention so that Sinn Féin representatives, if elected, could take their seats in the Dáil, Stormont or Westminster. (ibid.) Ratification of the two Convention proposals would only serve to deepen the already existing wedge between the IRA’s hardline traditionalists, led by the emerging Sean MacStiofáin (the future Provisional IRA Chief-of-Staff) and those with an increasingly socialist political outlook (typified by Goulding). With these internal issues in place, an increasingly desperate Nationalist community and spiralling violence across the north, personal jealousies on the part of prominent figures within the IRA served as the catalysts with which, over the following 12 months, the IRA would split into the Official IRA led by Goulding, and the Provisional IRA led by MacStiofáin. As above, one of the great ironies of the ‘troubles’ has been that the British Army was originally introduced to the region to protect Nationalists from sections of their Unionist neighbours. And while initially welcomed by Nationalists (soldiers would often be offered cups of tea on people’s doorsteps) this would rapidly change. Throughout 1970 the British Army was ordered to engage in major security sweeps in urban areas of Belfast and Londonderry (Derry as it is known to all from a Nationalist background) to recover illegally held firearms and homemade explosives being prepared by Republicans. The oppressive measures that followed, combined with extremely poor intelligence, served only to isolate it from the Nationalist community, and to direct Nationalist sentiment directly into the arms of the emerging PIRA. McFarlane (1992) describes the state’s response as undeniably inadequate,

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worsened still by the police force’s failure to tackle the growing threat by the militant Protestant groups, groups that originated of course from the areas in which most of the police officers themselves grew up and lived. Also in 1970, further factors were to mitigate against the possibility of an even-handed approach to reinstating law and order when a newly elected Conservative government came to power in Britain, and soon began, inadvertently, to exercise significant influence over the sustenance and future direction of the conflict. The response by the state was not enough to convince northern Nationalists that their second-class status was not simply a perception. Perhaps with some hindsight it is not difficult to see why the situation did not receive more international attention: after all, as Mansergh (2000) argued, the communist influence across Europe and the continued existence of colonial empires meant that Northern Ireland’s problems were not particularly outstanding at the time. Although the Irish government had played a role in ensuring that something would come from Westminster, its own role in promoting subsequent restraint by both northern Nationalists and the emerging PIRA was belittled by what later became known as ‘the arms crisis’. High-ranking members of Fianna Fail, the Republican party in the south, had conspired to procure and ship military arms for the stated purposes of ‘self-defence’ inside Nationalist ghettos. The Fianna Fail members in question were prevented from doing so, and were subsequently sacked by Jack Lynch. To northern Nationalists and Republicans, however, this reinforced a sense of betrayal between north and south that to this day has not abated for many Republicans (Mansergh, 2000). Despite awakening Nationalist sympathy south of the border, the message was clear to the PIRA – they were on their own. An early intelligence document by the IRA (although originally developed by a key member of an IRA splinter group – copy in author’s possession) revealed the contempt with which the ‘26 county government’ was held: The notion still exists that the 26 County Government and its forces are friendly and well disposed towards Republicans: this is a fallacy and should be dispelled immediately. The 26 County Government has proved itself over the years to be a willing ally of the British interest in Ireland and has used its forces as means of repressing the people and Republicans and protecting the British Imperial interests much the same as the British troops are used in the north to protect its interests there. Though it should be said that elements of the 26 County forces would be susceptible to approaches from Republicans. Therefore all I.Os. [Intelligence Officers] in the south should carry out the same military intelligence as their counterparts in the North, but they should also try to establish as many contacts in the forces as is possible, and attempt to establish just how far such people are prepared to go to help the movement to win its objectives. (It should be clearly stated here, that there is no intention of attacking as such, 26 County military installations). Contact with such personnel should be maintained at frequent intervals and in the strictest security. If such a person seems prepared to help with an operation HQ should be informed as soon as possible.

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From an early stage, it became clear that the Republican movement would restrict its attacks to British targets in the north of the country. The IRA then used the less stringent security in the Republic to its tactical advantage by focusing its training activities there, and maintaining all its arms dumps in southern counties. Internally, and outlined in the same document, the IRA advised its members of the tactical exploitative potential of resources in the Republic: If however, a Garda [police officer] or soldier is not prepared to help with specific military type information, then perhaps they might supply information which is of importance strategically: information regarding future movements, searches, cordon and security exercises, and items such as manuals dealing with their current and future attitude to the people, (public), Republicans and so forth. Information on current causes of grievances and discontent – political or personal – among members of the States forces is useful in that it can be used to focus attention on their employers – the Government; the class structure of the Army should be publicised in a way which will be understood by the rank and the file soldier. Every rank and file soldier and Garda is not a conscious enemy of ours or of our aims and ideals for the establishment of the republic. They do receive a constant indoctrination, however, which is calculated to give them the wrong idea of our policies, and make them adopt a personally hostile attitude towards us: this makes it easier for the Government and the establishment to use them more effectively against us. Knowledge of the kind of anti Republican propaganda which it circulates within the state forces will make it possible for us to devise adequate and appropriate counter propaganda. In the North, events spiralled out of control. Hardline formal responses from the British government soon emerged to quell the violence. The distinction between what on paper might have seemed good ideas and their subsequently mediocre execution became evident during many counter-insurgency exercises across the North. When the British government introduced internment without trial in 1971, not one Loyalist suspect was arrested and interned until two years later, as McFarlane argues: ‘confirming moderate Catholic suspicions that the security forces operated on a discriminatory basis’ (pp. 92–93). Abysmal intelligence, mediocre understanding of the psychology of insurgents and their supporters in conjunction with increasingly frustrated and desperate measures led to hundreds of Catholic men being interned and interrogated often simply on the basis of their names, where they lived and naïve suspicions of their allegiances. In the south, this would sow the seeds of a latent sympathy which would eventually allow for, in many parts of the Republic, limited IRA activity to take root and develop throughout the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s. A turning point in the conflict, and an event that was to culminate in unprecedented support for the PIRA (North and South) occurred on Sunday, 30 January

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1972, when the Parachute Regiment of the British Army opened fire on protestors during a civil rights march in Derry where 13 unarmed civilians were shot and killed, a 14th dying days later. Widespread condemnation followed both nationally and internationally, and in the Republic the British Embassy in Dublin was burned down by angry protestors. A commission to determine culpability for the atrocity is continuing (at the time of writing) in Derry, but the most obvious lesson that remains is that Bloody Sunday served as an atrocious example of the state’s utterly misguided response to the insurgency. More examples of poorly executed counter-terrorist policies and activities were to follow, including murder by the security forces, degrading treatment, unlawful questioning, juryless courts and the outlawing of political bodies. Three weeks after Bloody Sunday, the PIRA launched a reprisal attack, killing seven paratroopers in a bomb explosion. On 24 March 1972, the British government formally abolished the local government at Stormont and imposed direct rule from Westminster, with the Northern Ireland government still proclaiming that it had not lost the ability to control the violence and would oppose Westminster’s new role in imposing law and order.

The growth of the Provos north and South Following the split, Sean MacStiofain’s Provisional IRA announced to the world (Bowyer-Bell, 1979, pp. 366–367): We declare our allegiance to the 32-County Irish Republic proclaimed at Easter 1916, established by the first Dáil Éireann in 1919, overthrown by force of arms in 1922 and suppressed to this day by the existing Britishimposed Six-County and 26-County partition states . . . We call on the Irish people at home and in exile for increased support towards defending our people in the north and the eventual achievement of the full political, social, economic and cultural freedom of Ireland. ‘Provisional’ Sinn Féin, later becoming known simply as Sinn Féin, simultaneously emerged as a political presence in the 1970s as the public vehicle for explaining, justifying and propagating the PIRA’s campaign of terrorism against British forces in the north while simultaneously attempting to mobilise public support for Republicans on the ground. It remains a myth that Sinn Féin and the IRA are two distinct entities – they are not nor have they ever been – they simply reflect different roles or functions of involvement in the Republican movement open to ‘volunteers’. Martin McGuinness and Gerry Adams have both been IRA commanders and have gradually exerted their control over the entire Republican movement. Sinn Féin did not display the seeds of becoming a successful political party until it emerged following the 1981 hunger strikes, when ten PIRA members refused food as part of an escalating protest at prison conditions. As with Bloody Sunday, the Republican movement once again quickly exploited the tremendous

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gains from a catastrophic and confused set of responses by the governments that demonstrated little sense of the planning by the Republican movement for a ‘long war’. Following the split, the PIRA quickly organised in areas (mostly urban) across the North. The successful smuggling and importation of arms into the province in 1970–1972 meant that the PIRA was well equipped to fight the British Army although the lack of experience by the PIRA’s recruits became an obvious limiting factor. Apart from sniping attacks against soldiers and police officers, the PIRA began to experiment with under-car booby trap bombs, and in particular used this tactic as part of an ‘economic strategy’ (Smith, 1994) from the earliest days of the campaign consistent with its aim of making the region ungovernable. To try to force Britain to acknowledge the financial drain upon the British Treasury (Drake, 1991) became central to the practice of placing car bombs in financial areas and a more practical ostensible aim of this has been the force the ‘troubles’ onto an otherwise indifferent arena – the British mainland. The famous Republican dictum that ‘one bomb in England is worth 20 in Belfast’ emphasised just how a simple but effective tactical rethinking about the direction of PIRA violence would, for the PIRA leadership, essentially facilitate its demands being taken much more seriously. From the early stages of the conflict, however, the British military responded in kind and 1971–1974 saw 73 PIRA members shot dead by the British Army (Smyth and Fay, 2000). The still relative inexperience of the PIRA leadership in managing a campaign of modern insurgency against a well-equipped military force was evident. Continued successful military and police victories against the PIRA was a factor in the movement’s largely unified voice in negotiating with the British government as early as 1972, although the movement’s as yet naïve and overambitious political yearnings meant that the British government could not seriously entertain the PIRA’s demands, which included an unconditional withdrawal of all British troops by 1975. The talks were largely useless to all concerned, but they did at least clarify the fact that from the earliest days of the insurgency (and despite accusations of bad faith on both sides) the PIRA were willing to negotiate. Senior political figures that were soon to play the most significant part in the management and direction of the PIRA were Martin McGuinness and Gerry Adams. McGuinness, who was the PIRA second in command in Derry in the early 1970s became convinced by Adams’ views that in order to be taken seriously as the representatives of the Nationalist people that the the PIRA would have to develop an effective political wing, and not simply to have a political wing in name only with limited practical scope. Thus, it also appears that the PIRA realised from a very early stage that a military victory on its own (while helping to sustain continued involvement of the movement’s members) would not be sufficient to meet the movement’s aims. Throughout the 1970s and 1980s, Sinn Féin were undeniably a political nonentity in the Irish Republic. Never achieving more than 2 per cent of the popular vote, the presence of the Republican movement in the Republic was primarily expressed through organised criminal activity, both by the PIRA (and other

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Republican splinter groups) and alliances forged between the PIRA and traditional organised criminals. In 1979 alone, 228 armed robberies (Mulcahy, 2002) were committed in the Republic of Ireland, the vast majority of them by Irish Republican groups, and although during this time, the Irish police force was undergoing a period of rapid expansion, heavily-armed Irish army patrols soon began to routinely escort cash in transit due to increasing instances of armed robbery. That Northern Ireland remained the PIRA’s principal operational area obviously resulted in fewer murders in the Republic, with those that did occur largely confined to the border area. In fact, only on very few occasions did the Irish Republic receive any direct experience of terrorism. Most notable occurred in 1974, when Loyalist terrorists with suspected collusion with elements of the security services murdered 31 civilians in a co-ordinated bombs in Dublin and Monaghan. Just as in Northern Ireland, policing methods were also changed as a result of the special challenges posed by the terrorists. The ‘Special Branch’ of An Garda Siochana developed, and was largely confined to dealing with ‘subersive’ activities and intelligence gathering, primarily, but not exclusively in the border counties. As above, the IRA were careful to limit their military activities to the North, although its periperhal activities (e.g. armed robberies) soon grew in number and audacity across the Republic. Still, the need for careful manouevre in the Republic was drilled into each and every member of the IRA from the Republic. When a ‘volunteer’ joined the Provisional IRA, one of the first things that he or she received was their personal copy of The Green Book. This green-covered minimanual is 80 pages in length and contains chapters on topics from the initial lectures on the history of Ireland to later chapters on anti-interrogation guidance if captured. One of the most important sections, however, was that of Section 8, stressing the need to not engage in military operations in the South. Section 8 was always going to be a guideline however, as the lure of easy targets proved impossible for the IRA to resist. In 1976, the Irish government developed the Emergency Powers Act 1976. The main feature of this legislation was the provision of the Garda to be able to detain suspects for up to seven days without charge. This state of ‘emergency’ lasted until 1995, and largely coincided with developments in the peace process. In conjunction with this legislation, the older Offences Against the State Act (originally dating to 1939) was used on a regular basis to detain suspects for questioning. In 1998, when the Real IRA killed 31 people in the town of Omagh, Co. Tyrone, the Act was further amended in ways that curtailed the right to silence and expanded police powers of detention for the purposes of interrogation. Furthermore, the Irish government paved the way for a Special Criminal Court to be established. Similar to the juryless Diplock courts in Northern Ireland, three judges would hear evidence in the absence of a jury. The rationale behind this system lay in the possibility of intimidation of jury members. In addition, the sworn testimony of a Garda Chief Superintendent that an accused

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was a member of a terrorist organisation was sufficient to secure a conviction on the grounds of membership of an illegal organisation, although the fact that PIRA members were trained not to recognise the legitimacy of court was revealing enough. In 1985, the Irish government (under Garrett Fitzgerald) and Margaret Thatcher’s Conservative Party signed the Anglo-Irish Agreement. In other practical terms, the Anglo-Irish agreement resulted in greater cooperation between police forces northand South. The toll of violence on the Irish garda was to become significant however. With 13 members killed during the ‘troubles’, this number achieves greater signifance when, as Mulcahy (2002) reminds us, ‘prior to the conflict, 1942 was the last occasion on which a Garda was murdered on duty’. Additional challenges to policing the ‘troubles’ meant that the Irish police came under increasing scrutiny for allegations of mistreatment of suspects, leading to some high-profile cases collapsing. Mulcahy (2002) suggests that the traditional reticence of successive Irish governments to be less than critical of the Garda was primarily due to the fact that it was only the Gardai who had any role whatsoever in combating terrorism in the country, the Army’s role traditionally involving physical security in border areas for the most part. However, public support remained extremely high for the Gardai during the ‘troubles’, and this was dramatically illustrated when Garda Jerry McCabe was shot dead during a failed armed robbery by the PIRA in June 1996. The subsequent backlash by the public led to IRA sympathisers turning their backs on the movement with some even disclosing the location of hidden bomb factories and arms caches. While the IRA had been allowed implicitly to operate in certain sympathetic areas, mostly for logistical purposes (bomb-making, maintaining arms dumps, etc), the murder of Gardai dissolved this latent sympathy and support sustained only by naïve and romanticised perceptions of the Provos sustaining the military traditions of the older, original IRA of Collins and his colleagues. This perception suited the Provisionals, but was undermined any time they would engage in ‘breaches’ in the Republic, costing the IRA dearly on more than one occasion. For IRA men arrested in the Republic, Portloaise prison became a veritable fortress, with substantial security arrangements. As Gardai interviewed by Mulcahy (2002, p. 290) testified, the terrorists were ‘difficult to house, awkward to handle’, and ‘disciplined, dangerous, and you knew they might be thinking about escape, and of course they had support on the outside’. Prisoners sought ‘special status’ as in Northern Ireland. Public protests outside, sought prisoners’ recognition as political prisoners from the government. The prisoners retained strict structures and operational procedures inside the prisons, including marching and drill exercises in courtyards, more to the passive bemusement of their guardians than anything else. Terorist prisoners would not do ordinary prison work, and negotiated for the provision of Open University degree courses. Special arrangements, such as strip searching, led to tensions and the victimisation of prison officers. One prison officer was killed in 1983 by terrorists, while

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the Governor of Portlaoise had bombs placed under his car and other prison officers received death threats. In addition, crises and changes of various sorts in the Irish prison system meant that eventually, ‘ordinary’ criminals were also transferred to Portlaioise prison. These offenders would strike up relationships with the terrorists, each side exchanging tips on enterprise, structures, and operations. Indeed, many of those who later became significant figures in the Dublin criminal underworld admitted to learning about the benefits of organisational structrues from the Provisional IRA while in Portlaiose. It was not until the aftermath of the 1994 ceasefire however, that the Irish Republican movement’s strategic intentions for the Republic became more evident.

The ceasefires, peace process, and a new southern vision In many ways, the PIRA’s first ceasefire was a step in the dark, with unpredictable consequences, but at the very least, proved a positive kick-start to an otherwise stalemate condition. While naive media coverage may have built up unrealistic expectations on the part of the public, there was also a danger from the PIRA perspective that those expectations could become so strong that a return to previous violent strategies would become increasingly difficult. Presumably at the time this would have been an unacceptable constraint, and it is maybe that the timing of calling off the ceasefire was related to this. Also, while there may have been some political loss at calling off the ceasefire, this was probably more than offset by the gains the ceasefire produced, and especially in highlighting the reasons as to why the PIRA felt the ceasefire had to end. In organisational terms, it enabled a period of re-assessment and regrouping. In political terms, the broadcasting ban against Sinn Féin (introduced in 1988 by British Home Secretary Douglas Hurd in order to curtail the ability of members of parties associated with terrorist organisations to communicate over the airwaves – though, bizarrely, they could do so only if voiced by actors) was lifted, and the PIRA was introduced to the American public in a much more positive light than hitherto. Additionally, through constant reiteration of calls for peace, it allowed the PIRA to attempt to present itself as an agent of peace. However, more significantly for the long term, the ceasefire may also have been associated with a review of the relationship between the PIRA and the Republic of Ireland. The PIRA has used the Republic for many years to launder money raised from illegal activities, such that it owns and operates, through intermediaries, public houses and other businesses. In the main, however, it has not sought (or at least has not been able to maintain) an effective elected political presence in the Republic of Ireland. However, PIRA activists are now much more evident in the Republic in community politics, associated with a growth in the incidence of punishment beatings, etc., as the PIRA begins to make its presence felt. In the long term, it may be this feature of the ceasefire period that is of greatest long-term consequence for the island of Ireland. It is not a surprise that most critics of the initial ceasefire were even more pessimistic and cynical when the

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PIRA then reinstated a new ceasefire in July 1997, which has formally continued to this day. Since then, the nature and direction of PIRA violence has remained at what many cynically label as ‘acceptable’, but it is clear that there is now a sense of optimism and hope that the last several years in particular have solidified at least the PIRA’s commitment to the peace process by obliging it to accepting principles of non-violent protest, at least on paper. A return to large-scale violence is currently not an option for Republicans and a core factor in this relates to the social and political climate currently reigning in Northern Ireland since the signing of the Good Friday Agreement of 1998, effectively establishing the bases for both devolution of power once again to Stormont, and also allowing the democratically-elected representatives of Sinn Féin into government. A coalition government was formed between the main Nationalist, Republican and Unionist parties in July 1999, following the successful outcome of a referendum north and south held on 22 May 1998 to allow for changes to the Irish Constitution and Britain’s territorial claim over Northern Ireland. In particular, the Irish Republic would waive its territorial claim to the six counties of Northern Ireland (embedded in articles 2 and 3 of the Irish Constitution), while the British government would repeal the original Government of Ireland Act 1920. The Republican movement has been dealt significant concessions since the renewal of its ceasefire in 1997. The gradual release of almost all its prisoners, Sinn Féin’s entry into a Northern Ireland government and its now firm inclusion into the democratic political process – all incidentally, in advance of the disarmament of PIRA weapons. The issue of arms decommissioning remains the most significant threat to the new Northern Ireland government as Sinn Féin espouse the PIRA’s position that there need not be a formal handover of weapons given that they be allowed to ‘rust into the ground’ without use. The relative ambiguity of the Good Friday Agreement has meant that the issue has continued to be hazy, but has also continued to be the catalyst for continued political crises in Northern Ireland. Internally, it is clear that although the PIRA has engaged in developments to ensure the continued de facto ‘decommissioning’ of its weapons, any formal handover of weapons would serve to fragment Republican unity once again. The emergence of a breakaway group, the Real IRA, from the main Republican party was an illustration of the dissatisfaction with the slow nature of the political progress, amid accusations that Sinn Féin have embarked on the ultimate ‘sell-out’ of Republicans. Of course, by engaging in a Northern Ireland government and by continuing to seek to elect Sinn Féin members to the parliament in the Irish Republic, some of the core Republican principles were slowly compromised over the years. It has been an arduous task for the Republican leadership to convince its members of the reality of compromise and its contrast with the dream of a unilateral, uncompromising victory that has sustained the movement for so long. A point referred to above, and this illustrates how successfully Sinn Féin has been in shifting the focus for its struggle (for its members), has been in its

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revitalisation in the Republic of Ireland. The Republican leadership has indeed convinced its followers of the benefits of its entrance into a ‘new phase of struggle’, and nowhere is this more evident than in the Republic. The PIRA are commonly described as a Nationalist or separatist group, but the movement has attempted to reshape its identity in the Republic as nothing less than a ‘revolutionary’ movement. To understand the significance of this, we need to again consider the long-term strategy of the PIRA – the formation of a socialist democratic Republic. The socialist revolutionary nature of Republican ideals is often dismissed as a figment of a 1960s pseudo-Marxist sentiment that ultimately served as one catalyst in the separation of Republican identities into the PIRA and OIRA, but which contains little contemporary relevance. The issue has been gradually reworked since the beginning of the first ceasefire and now, it is clear that Sinn Féin is beginning to reap the political rewards south of the border. Whether initial successes can be sustained remains to be seen. In any military conflict, one’s credibility is often judged as indicative of an outcome of victory or otherwise, and the timely renewal by Sinn Féin and the PIRA of their ultimate aim has served as a useful tool with which the Republican leadership has effectively assisted in refocusing the movement once more. Republicanism has never been solely about the use of violence, but the degree of organisational problems faced by the PIRA leadership during the first ceasefire illustrated that the movement was not as prepared as it should have been ‘on the ground’ before announcing the ceasefire. Since then it has worked hard to move previously militant figures into key political roles and to emerge as a real political alternative to voters in the Republic. This has primarily worked through a combination of unrelenting localised community work and the development of an appealing political manifesto. There is however, a more sinister side to Sinn Féin’s current electioneering in the Republic, and one that is particularly significant given its newness in the south. The electoral performance of Sinn Féin in the Republic had been paltry throughout the 1980s and early 1990s, the party not receiving more than 1 per cent of the vote prior to 1996 (just under 2 per cent in the 1992 general election). While this should not be seen as a reliable indicator of the level of support Sinn Féin has in some areas of the Republic, more votes clearly became a major concern for the movement. The political and public attitude in general to politics in the Republic changed however, due to a number of conspiring factors: the ‘revitalisation’ and increased popularity of Sinn Féin was catalysed by their reaping the rewards of both a disaffected public in light of revelations of corruption among mainstream parties and less obviously but more practically relevant, a consistent level of hard work in communities, which has changed slightly in nature and direction. In light of the persistent bad press on a daily basis as a result of sweeping political scandals affecting the main parties, Sinn Féin have enjoyed an extremely good public image almost by default, so much so that recently, a number of Dail politicians and some senior RTE (the national broadcasting agency in Ireland) executives expressed alarm at the publicity Sinn Féin was

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cultivating in the Republic since 1997. This revitalisation of Sinn Féin in the Republic is nothing short of giving a renewed sense of purpose, vigour, and most important, direction for the movement that is modelled along the lines of a non-violent socialist revolution. The socialist language once proudly proclaimed by the original IRA is now carefully nuanced for a modern Ireland, and Sinn Féin are particularly proud of the term ‘activist’ which it uses to describe each and every member of the party. Sinn Féin is teaching its members, especially new ones, that once the problems of the north are on their way to resolution, that the focus would always turn southwards in an effort to gain much needed political power to influence the formation of an all-Ireland state. Republicans are being taught to seek bigger and better challenges than simply that of a ‘Britless Ireland’, and are attempting to harness a level of excitement and change within the party that is currently being very carefully fostered in the Republic. The nuanced nature of Republicans’ socialist ideals are nothing out of the ordinary, and indeed this is something that many terrorist groups have had to consider in successfully ensuring their longevity and continued political relevance. The socialist spirit of Irish Republicans remains however, and in the words of a Sinn Féin member, this new ‘revolutionary perspective’ has nothing less than the ‘weight of history behind us’. Sinn Féin’s activists in the Northern Ireland government are seen as the test pilots for what is still the principal aim of Sinn Féin in the twenty-first century: ‘Taking state power in Ireland.’ Bowyer-Bell (2000, p. xv) described the IRA in 2000 as ‘without a traditional role, without any compelling mission [and] a drag on the thrust of the peace process and increasingly irrelevant to contemporary Ireland’. While stalemates abound in Northern Ireland, with the suspension of the legislative assembly now reaching semi-regular occurrences, the Republican movement has been carefully striving towards a renaissance in the Republic. It remains engaged heavily in a wide array of organised crime activities and has both created and maintained a criminal infrastructure of accountants, lawyers, bankers and other financial experts to help the movement launder funds from robberies and extortion into property, hotels, security firms and clubs. Sinn Féin has recruited young, attractive faces, and overall has managed to effectively choreograph the pace of concessions and counter-concessions offered by the British and Irish governments aimed at keeping Sinn Féin ‘onside’, and fearful of their failure to remain signed on to the peace process.

Relatively unaffected, lessons unlearned? Students of terrorism and political violence studies often have difficult answering questions about distinguishing between the impact and effectiveness of terrorism. While the nature of terrorism, and its concomitant media coverage in a paranoid post 9/11 world is such that impact is all but guaranteed for even the smallest of bombs, the fewest of casualties and the least ideologically sophisticated of movements, it is more difficult for us to know if, and how, we might regard a terrorist movement as having been ‘effective’.

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The Irish Republican Army (IRA), one could argue, has on the one hand been a successful terrorist movement (although it is easy to argue that in terms of internal change and compromise the movement is seen by many of its detractors as having failed). Despite setbacks, it has demonstrated innovation, dynamism and flexibility and largely withstood successive phases of dirty counter-terrorist wars in Northern Ireland, despite coming close to defeat on a number of occasions. The IRA’s campaign of terrorism could hardly be described as sophisticated (unlike some of its technological acumen in the years before the ceasefires), but perhaps the greatest quality of the IRA has been its unwaveringly opportunistic nature which has served both political and terrorist sides of the Republican movement very effectively. By the 1994 ceasefire, the IRA had long surpassed the old Irish maxim of exploiting ‘England’s difficulties’, and while it would be premature to argue that the IRA has caused social and political change in Northern Ireland and beyond, it would be reasonable to suggest that it, and its brutal sectarian campaign has certainly been a catalyst for that change. It is difficult to know to what the IRA truly owes its effectiveness. There are both internal and external factors that contribute to this. A societal embeddedness as a service provider, a sense of future planning, the (relatively) early adoption of a twin-track ‘armalite and ballot box’ strategy, coupled with the increasingly discriminate targeting by the IRA (read as a careful attempt to not overstep locally determined boundaries) during the rise of Sinn Féin as its political wing, have all contributed to the strength of the Republican movement. Few would dispute the fact that the IRA was facilitated in its development by narrow counter-insurgency responses both in Northern Ireland and in the Republic of Ireland, which in turn encouraged public support (albeit sometimes grudging) for a movement whose members have remained unified by sense of direction and focus (even in times of confusion and disarray). It can certainly be argued that a large part of the success of the Republican movement in terms of gaining popular support has been a strong reflection of the failure to counter both the activities of the movement as well as the rhetoric and propaganda so astutely employed by Sinn Féin to distract attention from the IRA’s extensive involvement in wide array of illegal activities including murder, torture, expulsions, punishment assaults, mutilation, extortion, racketeering, money laundering and numerous others. Although it would be disingenuous to suggest that the Irish Republic has not been significantly affected by the Irish Troubles, successive Irish governments have continued to underestimate the challenges posed by the Irish Republican terrorist movements, particularly, and ironically, since the advent of the peace process and the Good Friday Agreement of 1998. Whatever the future brings, Sinn Féin’s revolutionary renaissance south of the border continues unabated. It is too early at this point to assess their progress and relative success in this, but if the Irish Republican movement’s successes and other experiences in Northern Ireland will not be effectively understood and/or challenged in the Republic, and assuming Sinn Féin continues to move with current opinion in an otherwise rapidly changing Republic of Ireland

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(economically, socially, and in other ways), then this it is a movement that could well continue to enjoy an increasingly bright future north and south.

Note This chapter was written in 2003, and borrows from some minor additional material that has appeared in Horgan, J. (2005). Militant Irish Republicanism: The Transformation of the Psychology and Strategy of IRA Violence and Politics in S. Germani and D.R. Kaarthikeyan (eds), Pathways out of Terrorism and Insurgency: The Dynamics of Terrorist Violence and Peace Processes (London: New Dawn Press).

References Bowyer-Bell, J. (1979). The Secret Army: The IRA 1916–1979 (Dublin: Poolbeg Press Ltd). Bowyer-Bell, J. (2000). The IRA 1968–2000 (London: Frank Cass). Coogan, T.P. (1995a). The IRA (London: HarperCollins). Coogan, T.P. (1995b). The Troubles: Ireland’s Ordeal 1966–1995 and the Search for Peace (London: Hutchinson). Drake, C.J.M. (1991). ‘The Provisional IRA: a case study’, Terrorism and Political Violence, 3 (2), pp. 43–60. Kennedy-Pipe, C. (1997). The Origins of the Present Troubles in Northern Ireland (Essex: Longman). McFarlane, L. (1992). ‘Human rights and the fight against terrorism in Northern Ireland’, Terrorism and Political Violence, 4 (1), 89–99. Mansergh, M. (2000). ‘The background to the Irish peace process’, in M. Cox and A. Stephen (eds) A Farewell to Arms? (Manchester: Manchester University Press), pp. 8–23. Moxon-Browne, E. (1981). ‘Terrorism in Northern Ireland: the case of the provisional ira’, Terrorism: A Challenge to the State, 6, pp. 146–163. Mulcahy, A. (2002). ‘The impact of the Northern “Troubles” on criminal justice in the Irish Republic’, in P. O’Mahony (ed.) Criminal Justice in Ireland (Dublin: Institute of Public Administration), pp. 275–296. Smith, M.L.R. (1994). Fighting for Ireland: The Military Strategy of the IRA (Oxford: Routledge). Smyth, M. and Fay, M.-T. (2000). Personal Accounts from Northern Ireland’s Troubles: Public Conflict, Private Loss (London: Pluto).

13 How significant was international influence in the Northern Ireland peace process? Paul Wilkinson

Introduction The extraordinary case of the Northern Ireland peace process is a rare example of terrorism being dramatically reduced, indeed almost extinguished, by means of a ceasefire followed by a comprehensive political agreement and a gradual movement towards establishing a power-sharing government. It is exceptionally difficult to succeed in finding a political pathway out of terrorism. Why did this method succeed in Northern Ireland while it has singly failed in so many other conflict situations, e.g. in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, the Kashmir conflict, the Tamil Tigers’ (LTTE) campaign against the Sri Lankan government? Was the successful peace process in Northern Ireland a result of a unique combination of circumstances, some of which were beyond the control of any of the participants or were unforeseen? To what extent could one legitimately describe the Good Friday Agreement and the ensuing peace process as a ‘tranformationist’ development? Would it be more accurately categorised as an ‘evolutionary’ process? Was the initiation of the peace process mainly due to indigenous factors such as war-weariness on the part of the paramilitary organisations and their support communities and the belief that political action rather than violence was more likely to win some, if not all, their objectives? Or was the peace process mainly due to the influence of exogenous factors such as Irish-Americans and the US government, the ending of the Cold War, the growing cooperation between the governments in Dublin and London, and their experience of membership of the European Union? In this chapter I aim to address the last of these questions. Put in another way, I intend to assess the extent to which the Northern Ireland peace process was precipitated and sustained by international pressures and developments, that is by exogenous factors external to Northern Ireland and the United Kingdom (of which Northern Ireland is part). I shall first briefly consider the role and influence of Irish-Americans prior to the latest ‘troubles’, during the conflict from 1970 to 1998, and the creation and consolidation of the peace process. The role of Dublin governments and Irish politics since 1921 will then be briefly examined.

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In the second part of the chapter I shall discuss the role and influence of successive US governments and US politics and the significance of British and Irish membership of the European Union. The chapter concludes by finding that by far the most significant exogenous influences on the Northern Ireland peace process were those of Irish Americans and recent US governments and politics. However, the author concludes that although these external factors played a crucial role in stimulating and encouraging the peace process, they were not by themselves sufficient to deliver success. They only ‘worked’ because the internal conditions of the mid-1990s enabled the leaders of the IRA, the major non-state paramilitary organisation, on the one hand, and the British government , the British Army and the RUC on the other, to initiate and (with the exception of one serious relapse into armed conflict) to maintain the ceasefire and the peace process. The author argues that the fundamental precondition for the peace process was the readiness of the Republican movement, comprising the IRA and its political wing Sinn Féin to suspend its campaign of violence and to adopt a purely political pathway to see if they could achieve key Republican goals by such means. It is suggested that the most fruitful way of tackling the question about the relative influence of international factors on the peace process is to focus on the influence of endogenous and exogenous influences on the Republican movement and the British government. It is obvious that the process could never have got under way unless both these key parties to the central conflict in the province had decided that they wanted a cessation of hostilities and a new political dispensation which would enable both to pursue their basic objectives without armed conflict.

Irish America It is not surprising that Irish America has had an influence on politics in Ireland and on relations between Britain and Ireland for 150 years. The United States received successive waves of immigrants during the nineteenth century, particularly after 1820, boosted by the worsening conditions which led so many to abandon the struggle to live off the land in Ireland and the reduction in the cost of transatlantic passage. As the historian Roy Foster emphasises,1 most of those who fled the land in the 1820s and 1930s settled for a rural life in America and after the Famine of the 1840s and 1950s most sought work in urban America, especially in the factories, railways and in the mining industry. Many Irish Catholics retained their hostility towards Britain, blaming the British government and the Ulster Protestants for the losses and suffering they had experienced in Ireland. Invitations to emigrate from the Irish people already in America also played a part in sustaining the flow of migrants. A major factor was the crisis of the Irish tenants. When the landowners were unable to collect rents from impoverished Irish tenants their estates were acquired by new owners, many of whom ruthlessly evicted the tenants and demolished their cottages to prevent other tenants from occupying them.

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It was not during the Famine but afterwards that an Irish secret society which became known as the Fenian movement was founded. The movement’s name derives from Fiann Féinne, a legendary force of Irish fighters. The Chieftain was Finn MacCumhaill. In Ireland the Fenian movement was founded and led by James Stephens. John O’Mahony founded and led the movement in the United States. Their scheme to mount a rebellion in Ireland was a dismal failure. It was swiftly crushed by the authorities. The US Fenians did succeed in carrying out a series of attacks against British Canada in 1866, 1870 and 1871, and they also provided most of the funds needed to finance the Fenian rising in Ireland. However, the Irish-Americans’ raids on Canada achieved little more than to put a temporary cloud over US-British relations, and the leaders of the 1867 rebellion in Ireland were swiftly caught and gaoled. However, although the efforts of Irish-America did not succeed in directly transforming Irish politics, they were one of the factors that persuaded W. E. Gladstone to see the urgent need for democratic reforms in Ireland. Among the most significant of these were the disestablishment of the Protestant Church in Ireland and the 1st Irish Land Act (1870) which conceded the principle of rights of secure tenure and compensation for improvements made to property. The success in getting these reforms through Parliament helped to encourage what has to be a highly significant long-term development, the founding in 1874 of the Home Rule League which aimed to achieve its objectives by peaceful constitutional means. This wider influence of Irish-America on Irish politics should not be underestimated.2 Irish nationalism in the nineteenth century struck a chord with many Americans who saw the campaign for Irish independence as part of the general struggle to get rid of the British colonial domination which Americans had been forced to fight to obtain their independence. (As we shall later observe the IRA used this kind of anti-colonial, anti-imperialist message in their propaganda to win support and funds from the US in the 1960s and 1970s.) However, as we shall see later, just as the Irish Nationalists in Ireland were split between those like the Fenians who supported violence and bombings and those who were wedded to constitutional means. The Irish-Americans were divided between those who backed the Fenians and those who supported the movements of peaceful constitutional reform in Ireland. The widespread British stereotype of all Irish-Americans as covert or overt supporters of the IRA is wide of the mark. However, American opposition to British colonialism went far wider than the Irish-American community. Radicals in both US political parties but especially among the Democrats were easily persuaded to oppose anything that could be portrayed as British colonialism. During the Irish Civil War (1919–1921) American influence was exerted to press the British government to pass the 1920 Government of Ireland Act, in effect splitting Ireland into two self-governing parts, Northern Ireland and Southern Ireland. And the US government was undoubtedly in favour of the Anglo-Irish Treaty (1921) which, in effect, ended the War of Independence in Ireland by granting Southern Ireland ‘dominion status’ comparable to the

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position of Canada and Australia. However, this compromise left the new dominion with control of only 26 of the 32 counties of Northern Ireland, and the hardline Irish Nationalists determined to fight on to expel the British presence from the island of Ireland and to unite the whole island of Ireland under Republican rule. The seeds of the future ‘long war’ were sown. How would the IrishAmericans and other international influencers and potential influencers respond to this future conflict and to the peace efforts which were made to try to find a non-violent pathway to resolve it?

The role of successive US governments Inevitably, when the US and Britain were close allies during the First and Second World Wars, US governments did not wish to take any steps that could have been seen as hostile by their British allies or which could have weakened Britain or deflected the British from their major struggle against Germany. US entry on Britain’s side in World War Two and the onset of the Cold War meant that it would have been totally against the strategic self-interests of the US to have pushed Britain into relinquishing sovereignty over Northern Ireland. In the communications and submarine war against Germany it was vital for the allies to be able to guarantee the use of Northern Ireland and its coastal waters and harbours. How could it have served US national interests to try and bring about the transfer of Northern Ireland to the control of de Valera’s neutral Irish republic? In the Cold War there were additional strong reasons for US governments to refrain from doing anything to assist or encourage pro-violence Irish Republicans and their Irish-American supporters and sympathisers. From the foundation of NATO the Special Relationship with Great Britain was particularly important as the lynchpin of the Alliance and its efforts at creating a degree of coordination unprecedented in the history of inter-state alliances: it would have been unthinkable for Washington to put this at risk by taking any action that would have been seen as a potential threat to British sovereignty over part of the British Isles. Moreover, by the early 1970s, when the Provisional IRA emerged in Northern Ireland and commenced its major campaign of terrorism, the United States was itself increasingly targeted overseas by a wide variety of terrorist groups attacking US diplomats, embassies, consulates, businesses, airliners and many other targets. It would have been totally inconsistent with America’s very strong declaratory policy against terrorism if the US government had been seen to be supporting or condoning terrorist attacks on their closest ally. The British government became very concerned about the funds and guns the IRA was able to obtain from its supporters in the US when it started its bombing campaign in the 1970s.3 It is well known that the US authorities were unable to completely shut down the supply of weapons and finance to the IRA. However, the British government was told by the US government that it would continue to take measures to stop the flow of finance to the IRA provided Britain’s policy in Northern Ireland was seen to be ‘even-handed’.4

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Washington was clearly reassured by Britain’s firm determination to cooperate closely with the Republic in handling the crises in Northern Ireland, and by the demonstrated efforts of the Heath government to set up a power-sharing government in Northern Ireland. It should also be borne in mind that John Hume, the gifted and highly respected leader of the SDLP in Northern Ireland, and the Irish government were working in concert with the US government to find a peaceful and democratic resolution of the Northern Ireland conflict. Ironically the collapse of the power-sharing experiment demonstrated to the US government and to other international influencers (e.g. the EU) that the conflict was predominantly terrorist and sectarian in nature, because the powersharing efforts were sabotaged by the Loyalist terrorists and paramilitaries, and both Republican and Loyalist extremists were bitterly opposed to the powersharing project. In addition the intensification of the sectarianism aspect of the conflict and the rise of a non-sectarian pressure group, the Peace People, trying valiantly to stop the violence, persuaded the US government and Congress that the violence in Northern Ireland was primarily terrorist and therefore criminal, and therefore something the US should try to halt. On this score there is little doubt that the Irish government’s strong campaign in the US against the IRA, and led by respected Irish statesmen such as Garret Fitzgerald and John Hume, gave huge additional impact to the message that British government ministers and the British Embassy in Washington were trying to project. As a result of this changed perception of the Northern Ireland conflict both in the White House, Congress and in the US media together with President Reagan’s strong focus on countering international terrorism and his very close Special Relationship with Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, US authorities cracked down hard on IRA efforts to obtain funds and weapons from America. In a whole series of cases the US Department of Justice, the Federal courts and the FBI showed determination and effectiveness in dealing with IRA suspects and those who attempted to escape British justice by fleeing to the US. These efforts were of course not decisive in the British security forces efforts against the IRA, but they did help considerably and were much appreciated by both the British and Irish governments. The end of the Cold War and the collapse of the former Soviet Union brought a new strategic climate in which the US and British governments were able to devote more attention and patient diplomacy to trying to resolve some of the long-standing minor regional and internal conflicts which were continuing to cost lives and economic damage and disruption. In the early and mid-1990s there were continuing efforts by unofficial peacebrokers such as John Hume, Catholic priests such as Father Reid, and Protestant clergymen, to try to develop a dialogue which could be the basis of moves towards Republican and Loyalist ceasefires and the beginnings of a peace process. The British government of Prime Minister John Major, ably assisted by his Northern Ireland Secretary, Sir Patrick (now Lord) Mayhew, played a key part in these difficult and complex peace efforts, in close cooperation with the then Taoiseach, Albert Reynolds, culminating in the Downing Street Declaration and the IRA’s 1994 ceasefire. However, although the primary impetus and

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driving force behind these peace efforts was endogenous we would be gravely mistaken if we neglected the exogenous influence especially of Irish-America and the US government which made an invaluable contribution to the ultimate success in achieving a more lasting peace. This contribution will be analysed in the next section of this chapter.

The influence of Irish-American and the US government in helping to prepare the way for the 1994 IRA ceasefire and the peace process Traditionally most social scientific and political analysis of peace efforts to end internal conflicts has tended to emphasise the key role of government and the domestic agencies of the state. However, when dealing with an armed confrontation between a state and a violent non-state organisation such as the IRA, the analysis needs to give equally close attention to the internal politics and behaviour of the non-state organisation.5 Because the IRA had a strong international dimension, with an active support network in the US and in the Irish republic, and a range of overseas activities such as obtaining weapons from Libya and elsewhere and attacking British targets in various European countries6 that analysis must be intermestic7 rather than purely domestic, i.e. it needs to examine both the domestic activities and developments within the movement in combination with the international developments and linkages with which they interact. There were four key events that revealed a distinct hardening in the opposition to the IRA’s campaign of terrorist violence among moderate political leaders who sympathised with the cause of Irish nationalism in America. First, there was the 1997 clear condemnation of the use of violence by the so-called Four Horsemen, (Senator Ted Kennedy, Senator Daniel Moynihan, Governor Hugh Carey of New York and Thomas Tip O’Neill, Speaker of the House of Representatives). Governor Carey denounced the IRA as ‘Irish killers’.8 In August of the same year President Carter issued a statement attacking Irish Republican supporters in the US and offering economic assistance in the event that a solution to the conflict was found.9 Another highly significant harbinger of a more internationalised approach to conflict resolution came with the Anglo-Irish Agreement (AIA) signed in 1985. According to Garret Fitzgerald, Taoiseach at the time, claimed that the Agreement was signed to contain international pressure from the US, the Republic and Europe.10 Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher had initially been reluctant to sign the AIA because she believed it implicitly undermined British sovereignty over Northern Ireland. However, in her memoirs, Lady Thatcher observed that international pressure was a constraining factor on British policy and stressed that the Anglo-Irish cooperation formally established in the AIA was helped in dealing with the Northern Ireland situation.11 In the academic debate about the extent of US influence in the period leading up to the ceasefire and the peace process there are those who argue that the US

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role has been grossly exaggerated. The political scientist, Paul Dixon, points out that the British government of Edward Heath had as long ago as 1973 joined forces with the SDLP and the Dublin government to seek a power-sharing government for Northern Ireland, and that the US had no input into this process whatsoever.12 But this overlooks the fact that the IRA at that time had not been won over to the idea of finding a political pathway out of the conflict. By the 1990s, after 20 years of bitter conflict there was a huge job to be done to persuade not only the leadership but also the rank and file of the IRA and Sinn Féin that they had more to gain by halting the violence and using peaceful political means to attain their objectives. It was in this difficult task that the voice of moderate Irish-America made an important contribution. In the wake of Bloody Sunday and internment the Irish Northern Aid Committee (NORAID), the IRA’s main fundraising body in the US in the early 1970s, did rather well in attracting support from leading Irish-Americans. However, in the mid-1970s John Hume the SDLP leader began to make real headway in persuading influential Irish-Americans such as Ted Kennedy of the grave dangers of supporting NORAID which not only condoned but actively supported the IRA’s terrorist campaign. Hume’s tireless efforts and those of well-informed representatives of the Irish government, who visited the US, inspired the efforts of those who wanted a peaceful and democratic Northern Ireland and an end to the terrorist violence of both the IRA and the Loyalist terrorist groups. The main group, set up by these moderate Irish-Americans in the 1980s was the Friends of Ireland Group (FOI). In common with John Hume’s SDLP the FOI argued that the unification of Ireland could only be based on popular consent of the people of Northern Ireland. FOI and another moderate group, Americans for a New Irish Agenda, strongly supported the 1985 AngloIrish Agreement and the aid programme approved by Congress which provided 50 million dollars of assistance in the first year of the Agreement. In the face of this moderate and constructive intervention in the Northern Ireland crises, NORAID’s influence was greatly diminished. Although Bill Clinton received support from Irish-Americans during his presidential election campaign and had publicly criticised the RUC, in office he took a moderate position, supporting the position of John Hume, the FOI and the Americans for a New Irish Agenda. However, it was not until after the Downing Street Declaration13 and the first IRA ceasefire (1994) that President Clinton, the State Department and Nancy Soderberg, his main policy adviser, felt able to play a more proactive interventionist role in supporting the Northern Ireland peace process. What changed in 1994? Was it the case that the whole impetus for the peace process stemmed from endogenous factors in Northern Ireland such as the war-weariness of the population and the belief of many Irish Republicans that their campaign had run its course and that there was now more to be gained by switching to a political pathway to secure their goals? Was it due to the perceived stalemate in the security situation, in which the Republicans increasingly recognised that they could not defeat the British security forces and the British government and its military and police advisers realised that there

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was no military or security solution to the Northern Ireland problem? There is wide agreement among participants and seasoned observers of the Northern Ireland situation that these endogenous factors were of critical importance, not least the readiness of the government of Prime Minister John Major and his colleagues to work closely with the Irish government to achieve a ceasefire and a breakthrough to a genuine peace process. What should not be overlooked is that the leadership and rank and file hard core members of IRA/Sinn Féin had to be won over to the idea of seeking a political path to attaining their aims, and setting violence aside. Some hardline Republicans argued strongly against the ceasefire and the political path, arguing that violence was the only thing that the British understood and the only thing that would deliver ultimate victory. Some took a more flexible position: they had no confidence that a ceasefire and a political path would work but were willing to give the idea a chance providing that the IRA kept its organisation intact, kept its weapons in case they were needed against and continued gathering intelligence on ‘the enemy’. Others were more favourable towards the policy of opting for the political path, and believed that this policy stood a real chance of success if they could secure wider political support, including from the Irish government, from John Hume, and from Irish-America. This concern over ensuring they had substantial support from Irish-America may surprise some who are unfamiliar with the history of the IRA. The key point to remember is that throughout its history the militant Republicans had been dependent on the backing of militant supporters in the US to provide them with considerable amounts of funds and frequent supplies of guns to sustain their violent campaigns against the British.14 It is estimated that by the 1980s there were over 40 million Americans of Irish descent. Republicans in Ireland had good reason to believe that they needed the endorsement of Irish-Americans for any major switch in strategy. John Hume and the moderate Irish-Americans were fully aware of the significance of this link. They recognised that Gerry Adams, as Sinn Féin President, and Martin McGuinness had key roles in any effort to switch to a political path. But they also realised that it was crucial to persuade the majority of the rank and file Republicans to back this new strategy. This is where the moderate Irish-American grouping and President Clinton’s administration were to make a valuable contribution. Many who were active in the moderate Irish-American groupings shared John Hume’s view that Gerry Adams, the Sinn Féin President, was in a uniquely advantageous position to lead the Republican movement to take the decision to declare a ceasefire. However, they were also well aware that this was not going to be an easy task.15 The IRA leadership would need to win over the rank and file to support such a decision. If the leadership failed to consult their hardcore members and failed to gain their backing for the change of policy there was a real danger of a major split in the movement, leading to more killings and sabotaging of any chance of finding a political pathway out of violence.16

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By the end of the intensive discussions between the leadership and the rank and file the majority of the Republican movement formed the view that it was worth giving the political route a try. However, they also believed that they had a better chance of succeeding in this new strategy if they could be sure of the support of a majority of Irish-American opinion and the assistance of the Irish government and John Hume. As the then Taoiseach, Albert Reynolds, recollects: I was well aware throughout from the very start that an alternative strategy would have to be put in place that would make it possible for the leadership of Sinn Féin to go to the IRA Army Council to try to convince them that there was an alternative route, a route through the democratic process that could produce results and that there was a vast amount of goodwill and support to be gathered around the world behind this new direction.17 It was precisely for these reasons that Albert Reynolds and his Irish government lobbied strongly in the US for Gerry Adams to be given a visa to visit the United States. Reynolds knew that Sinn Féin/IRA desperately wanted the US visa to be granted to Gerry Adams and that the British government was opposed to it, but he was simultaneously sending messages to the Republican leadership that the price the Irish government demanded for their support for the Adams visit was nothing less than a total ceasefire.18 A sure sign that Gerry Adams’ visit to the US in February 1994 had been of significant help in internationalising the peace process was the visit of an IrishAmerican delegation to Ireland on 25 August 1994. They met with Albert Reynolds and Dick Spring and were given a full briefing on Irish policy and the Dublin government’s hopes for a ceasefire and for a more durable peace process. This was followed almost immediately by a meeting in Belfast between the Irish-American delegation and the Sinn Féin leaders. Gerry Adams and Martin McGuinness were present. The Irish-American delegation passed on a very clear message from the Irish government reiterating its insistence on a complete cessation of violence by the IRA.19 On 31 August 1994 the IRA announced a ceasefire and it seemed to vindicate the statement by Bruce Morrison, a former congressman and a member of the Irish-American delegation who had said he hoped for a ‘dramatic breakthrough’ after his meeting with Sinn Féin.20 Once President Clinton and his advisers were satisfied that IRA/Sinn Féin were genuinely prepared to switch from violence to a political path the US government was able to be fully supportive of the peace process in Northern Ireland, and cooperation with the British and Irish governments in preparing the way for the Good Friday Agreement. Clinton maintained his commitment to the peace process even after the temporary breakdown of the IRA ceasefire in 1996. President Clinton’s personal commitment to helping the peace process was clearly demonstrated when he visited Northern Ireland in November 1995. The visit to the Province by an incumbent president21 was unprecedented. In the course of this trip he also met Gerry Adams. Although the hardliners of the IRA

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decided to abandon the ceasefire and launched a bomb attack on the City of London in 1996, Clinton’s visit undoubtedly helped to mobilise more popular support for the peace process in Northern Ireland and the street demonstrations against the IRA for breaking its ceasefire played a part in pushing the IRA to restore the ceasefire and pursue the peace process the public so yearned for. A tangible signal of the Clinton administration’s commitment to assisting the peace process was the appointment of former US Senator George Mitchell,22 an extremely able and experienced negotiator, as special Adviser for the planning of the Good Friday Agreement. He was then appointed Chairman of the negotiations that led to the Good Friday Agreement. He was so successful in this role that he was then appointed Chairman of a review of the Agreement. Senator Mitchell has written his own modest account of his work to help bring peace to Northern Ireland.23 His independence and fairness were respected by all those involved and his work is a reminder of the important work individuals can do in these situations and a less well-known but genuine example of the possible channels of international influence. Although in the early stages of initiating the peace process the Clinton administration did not believe it was necessary or desirable to insist on decommissioning of weapons by the armed groups as a precondition for entry to the peace process, President Clinton later intervened to urge the British Prime Minister to write to the leader of the UUP, David Trimble, to say that weapon decommissioning was a requirement of the Good Friday peace deal.24 It is hardly surprising that President George W. Bush has not devoted the same level of attention to Northern Ireland affairs as his predecessor. However, the unprecedented scale of the Al Qaeda terrorist attacks on the US on 9/11 led to President George W. Bush declaring war on terrorism worldwide. Although the US government’s prime concern understandably switched to countering the jihadi terrorism of Al Qaeda and its affiliated groups, two small groups which remained bitterly opposed to the Good Friday Agreement, the Real IRA and the Continuity IRA, were placed on the US government’s list of terrorist groups and their leaders and members were prohibited from entering US territory. However, the FBI proved extremely helpful to the authorities in Ireland on both sides of the border by running an agent, David Rupert, who penetrated the Real IRA and became the leading witness in the trial and conviction of the Real IRA leader Michael McKevitt in 2003.25 However, undoubtedly the most important US influence on the peace process in Northern Ireland since 9/11 was the unforeseen and unintended effect of the atrocities carried out by Al Qaeda on America’s perception of terrorists and terrorism. IRA/Sinn Féin leaders must have quickly realised that in the wake of 9/11 there was no chance that the US government and public would condone the idea that the IRA should be allowed to retain weapons for terrorist purposes, let alone to use them. Prior to 9/11 it seemed a near impossibility to persuade the IRA to decommission its weapons. Almost certainly the reason why the IRA eventually agreed to decommission its weapons was the realisation that the American public would never again find the image of IRA waging terror with

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bombs and guns ‘acceptable’. Perhaps the final nail in the coffin for the IRA recovering respectability for terrorism was the news that IRA men had been found in Colombia on suspicion of helping the FARC terrorists who played a key part in helping the drug barons protect their ghastly trade and traffic their cocaine on the streets of America.26 Once again it was evident that in the post9/11 climate the IRA and its diminished support network in the US had lost its older but highly romanticised image as an ‘army’ of anti-colonial liberators. The major role of the moderate Irish-American community and the US government under President Clinton and President George W. Bush has been to facilitate the peace process using ‘soft power’, diplomatic and economic.

The role and influence of the EU The role and influence of the European Union (EU) on the Northern Ireland peace process has been even less significant than that of the United States, despite the fact that both Ireland and the United Kingdom are members, and the EU’s long experience of promoting cross-border functional cooperation and greater economic integration. The determination of the Ulster Unionists to retain the separate identity and culture and the bitterness created by over a quarter of a century of conflict and terrorism still presents an apparently insuperable obstacle to the political unification of the island of Ireland. However, the indirect influence of Irish EU membership has indirectly yet significantly altered the terms of the economic relations between north and South.27 The impact of the EU investment and the stimulus of the EU market to the Irish economy have been remarkable in enabling the Republic to sustain one of the highest rates of economic growth in the EU. While the North’s economy was being battered and investment driven away as a result of the terrorist violence, in the Republic both urban and rural communities were able to prosper, and new and highly successful industries were attracted into the country. In the longer term, when political hostilities begin to diminish, this should leave the way open to much more cross-border economic cooperation and joint ventures. The work of the Special European Programmes Body28 offers many excellent examples of these possibilities and has made a real contribution to assisting economic recovery in the north and also in the border areas badly affected in the worst periods of the conflict.

Conclusion This chapter has concluded that although the United States, the Republic of Ireland and the European Union all refrained from any direct military/security intervention in the Northern Ireland conflict they have all contributed to some extent to the peace process. By far the most significant international influence has been the role of the moderate Irish-American grouping and the US government, particularly under President Clinton’s leadership, in encouraging and facilitating the peace process which led to the Good Friday Agreement in 1998 and eventually to the restoration of a power-sharing government in 2007.

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It is undoubtedly true that the main changes and ‘drivers’ behind the mobilisation of support for the peace process were endogenous and without these changes the Good Friday Agreement and all that has happened since would not have occurred. Nevertheless, the author concludes despite the ‘conventional wisdom’ which claims that the US role has been exaggerated, its significance as an influence on the crucial debate within the Republican movement has been largely forgotten or ignored by many commentators.

Notes 1 See Roy Foster (1990) Modern Ireland 1600–1972 (London: Penguin Books), p. 357. 2 For a valuable account of recent relations between Irish American and Irish Politics see A. J. Wilson (1995) Irish America and the Ulster Conflict (Belfast: Blackstaff Press). 3 On the importance of the US as a source of weapons for the Provisional IRA, see: Patrick Bishop and Eamonn Mallie, The Provisional IRA (London: Corgi Books), pp. 169–171. 4 House of Commons, Vol. 903, Col 160, 12 January 1976. 5 See for example Harry Eckstein (ed.) (1964) Internal War: Problems and Approaches (New York: The Free Press), and the classic and highly influential work by Ted Robert Gurr (1970) Why Men Rebel (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press). 6 On the campaign by the IRA’s European Department see Ed Maloney (2002) A Secret History of the IRA (London: Penguin Books), pp. 336–337. 7 The term intermestic first came into use in the late 1970s to refer to issues or policies where there is no clear boundary between the domestic and international context. 8 See A.J. Wilson (1995) Irish America and the Ulster Conflict, 1968–1995 (Belfast: The Blackstaff Press). 9 Ibid., pp. 135–136. 10 Garret Fitzgerald (1991) All in a Life (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan), pp. 468, 535 11 Margaret Thatcher (1992) Downing Street Years (London: HarperCollins) pp. 403, 413. 12 Paul Dixon (2001) Northern Ireland: The Politics of War and Peace (Basingstoke: Palgrave), pp. 177–178. 13 The heart of the Declaration was the following the statement: The British Government agree that it is for the people of the island of Ireland alone, by agreement between the two parts respectively, to exercise their right of self-determination on the basis of consent, freely and concurrently given, north and south to bring about a united Ireland, if that is their wish. It is interesting to note that the Republican movement failed to endorse the Downing Street Declaration. The movement sought ‘clarification’ by posing a series of questions to the British government and embarked on a ‘consultation’ with the rank and file. 14 A leading historian of the IRA observes: the Provisional’s real problem – in their Chief of Staff’s view – was resources: a lack of equipment and money. So the procurement of money and weapons was a primary focus of attention for the Provos, and their energy was partly directed towards the United States. (Richard English, Armed Struggle: The History of the IRA, London: Pan Macmillan Ltd, 2003, p. 155) 15 Ibid. 16 See Brian Rowan (1984) Behind the Lines: The Story of the IRA and Loyalist Ceasefires (Belfast: Blackstaff Press), p. 84.

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23 24 25 26 27 28

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Ibid., p. 89. Ibid., p. 93. Ibid. Ibid. Jonathan Tonge (2005) The New Northern Ireland Politics? (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan), p. 242. George Mitchell served as a Senator from Maine from 1980 to 1995, the last six years as Majority Leader. After leaving the Senate, in addition to chairing the Northern Ireland peace talks, he served as Chairman of the International Crisis Group, a nonprofit organisation dedicated to the prevention of crises in international affairs. Senator George Mitchell (1999) Making Peace (New York: Alfred A. Knopf). Tonge, op. cit., p. 242. Tonge, p. 243. See Ed Maloney, op. cit., pp. 489–490. For a balanced analysis of the EU factor see Tonge, op. cit., pp. 175–187. On the problems of implementing Peace II economic cooperation measures see, House of Commons, Northern Ireland Affairs Committee, 21 May 2003.

14 The war continues? Combating the paramilitaries and the role of the British Army after the Belfast Agreement Christopher Bass and M.L.R. Smith Introduction: the twilight of a forgotten army The original deployment of the British Army onto the streets of Northern Ireland in 1969 was always intended to be of limited duration. The deployment was expected to be a short term measure, maintained until the deteriorating security situation has been reversed and the normal workings of civil government restored.1 As it turned out, of course, Northern Ireland was for a generation to become the Army’s ‘biggest operational commitment’2 with nearly 500 army personnel giving their lives in the attempt to stabilise the province.3 Following the Belfast Agreement of 1998, however, it could be argued that the British Army has fulfilled its purpose in the province. The Belfast Agreement of April 1998 was intended to address the issues that had given rise to the years of relentless violence and, thereby, put an end to the campaigns of the main Republican and Loyalist paramilitary groups. All parties to the Agreement avowed their ‘total and absolute commitment to exclusively democratic and peaceful means of resolving differences’ and their ‘opposition to any use or threat of force by others for any political purpose’.4 With the IRA and Loyalist paramilitary ceasefires in place, and the framework for a devolved power-sharing government established, the principal rationale for the army to remain as a long term security presence has, in essence, been removed. While few expect Northern Ireland’s political progress to be anything other than gradual there has, some seven years on from the Agreement, been no slide back into full-scale hostilities. The phase of protracted military conflict appears for the moment to be over. What, then, can be said for the twilight years of the Army’s involvement in Northern Ireland? The prospectus for a slow but continuous reduction of troop levels would suggest that there is little worth dwelling upon. Yet, the British Army is still there. In 2005, more than 13,000 regular army were based in Northern Ireland.5 This was still a more significant military commitment than, say, the ongoing deployment of British stabilising forces in Iraq.6 That this fact excites little public interest substantiates the observation of a former General Officer Commanding Northern Ireland (GOC), Lieutenant-General Alistair Irwin, who stated that the commitment to Northern Ireland constitutes a ‘forgot-

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ten army’. The reason for this, he continued, was because ‘we are not of course main players, we’re simply creating a condition in which the main players can act’.7 Yet, crucially, it this very proviso that intimates precisely why the army’s continuing presence remains far from insignificant. More than that, the Army’s role illustrates the vital importance that ‘forgotten armies’ play in theatres such as Iraq and further a field in combating the threat of violence and instability. The question is, though, what is the underlying nature of the Army’s activities? Why is the army still in Northern Ireland in such numbers? What function does it serve? What is the thinking behind its presence? This chapter intends to address these questions. It will analyse the continuing involvement of the British Army in an attempt to identify its specific rationale. The analysis will seek to achieve this by outlining a theoretical framework that aims to arrive at a strategic understanding of the British Army in Northern Ireland, from 1998 to the present. This framework will help make explicit the army’s role. In doing so, this analysis reveals the continued centrality of the army’s purpose in Northern Ireland. In the first instance, an important clarification must be made. The army’s stated mission in Northern Ireland is ‘to support the police in the defeat of terrorism and maintenance of public order in order to assist Her Majesty’s Government’s objective of returning to normality’.8 In this regard the army has since the mid-1970s played a secondary role to the police in maintaining law and order.9 To that end, the army’s role is not a war or a campaign in the traditional sense of, say, the Gulf War in 1991, the Falklands in 1982 or Iraq in 2003. The army is not a strategic actor as such. It is not driven by self-induced political goals but operates in a context set by government. The Army is an operational actor, with limited operational goals designed to fulfil the wider objectives of policy. The army is, therefore, but one tool of government policy in Northern Ireland. As General Irwin declared, ‘we are dealing with a domestic crisis and it’s the police which has to impose law and order and our job is to make sure the police can go about their business’.10 In identifying the army’s strategic purpose in Northern Ireland thus entails trying to reveal a posture that is neither officially stated or acknowledge by either the government or the army itself. Nevertheless, by developing a framework based on the principles of strategic theory we can attain a fuller understanding of the army’s role that discloses its utility in achieving the wider policy goals set by the British government. In doing so, rather than seeing the army as a declining or even redundant support mechanism, we can unveil the military as a vigorous actor that remains a crucial element in the peace process in Northern Ireland.

Developing a strategic framework First, a brief excursion into strategic theory. In popular perceptions the notion of strategy is closely linked to ideas of planning and fighting wars. In his treatise on the nature of war, Carl von Clausewitz defines ‘strategy’ as ‘the use of the

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engagement for the purpose of war’.11 In Northern Ireland, however, we can discern immediately that the British Army has never been engaged in a war of the kind it fought in the Napoleonic era, and from which Clausewitz drew his main impetus to write. Thus, while Clausewitz captured the essential ‘meansends’ relationship, by the twentieth century his definition was, according to analysts, inadequate because it ‘failed to allow for the great variety in the methods of employing military forces and the choice of targets. Furthermore, the link with war itself was too direct’.12 The reason for the inadequacy of the Clausewitzian definition was not because he was an inadequate thinker. It was because he was attempting to philosophise about war, not theorise about strategy. In explaining the essence of war Clausewitz was simply trying to determine the role of strategy in war, as will be explained below. Strategy itself has no innate association with war. Conceptually, strategy is ‘all about the use of available resources to gain any objective’.13 It is the ‘endeavour to relate means to ends as efficiently as possible’.14 Indeed, in its modern academic incarnation, strategic theory is actually an offshoot of public choice economics, not international relations or war studies. The reason we often connect the notion of strategy with warfare is because it is in war that the extremities of the means-ends relationship most clearly manifest themselves, in life and death, in victory and defeat. Simply put, issues of strategy are easier to identify and study in war than in their more non-violent incarnations. However, strategy is inherently a multilayered idea. Even in its military manifestation strategy does not necessarily imply the functional application of war fighting power. Strategy is about more than just war and military campaigns. For this reason, Basil Liddell-Hart argued that the military dimension of strategy encompasses ‘the art of distributing and applying military means to fulfil the ends of policy’.15 By not referring explicitly to ‘war’ this definition acknowledges that military power can be used in peacetime and releases it from pre-conceived notions of war, such as the ‘battle’, (although for clarity, the term ‘war’ is employed in this chapter to identify a strategic framework relevant to understand the role of the British Army in Northern Ireland). Critics of Clausewitz often accuse him of failing to recognise that conflict has moved beyond state-based warfare.16 But, as others note, while Clausewitz’s conception of the trinity of the government, military and the people as drivers of military effort was based upon the state, ‘it is easily adaptable to forms of warring social organisations that do not form states. . . any community has its leaders, fighters and common people’.17 This allows us to conceptually recognise the role of non-state paramilitaries in any politico-strategic situation. War is a means towards an end. It is intended to serve a higher political purpose. Military means are employed to achieve political ends. Therefore, military means are conceptually subordinate to politics. If the military means represents the with what and the political ends the why, strategy represents the how, that is, how you use the means to achieve the ends? As the political level comprises both ends and means, to help us understand strategy – to understand the

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how with greater clarity – we must also break down strategy into means and ends. This is because that, while there are aims of war, there are also aims (and means) in war: what you want to do to the enemy as opposed to what you achieve by doing so. This is illustrated in Figure 14.1. According to Clausewitz, in its extreme theoretical expression war is a duel, and taken to its logical conclusion represents a single, instantaneous blow to wipe out the enemy. It is only by rendering the enemy incapable of further resistance that guarantees victory. In theory, the object in war must always be to destroy the enemy’s means of resistance (his fighting forces and will to continue), achieved by strategic means such as the decisive battle. In practice, Clausewitz understood that wars never correspond to this simple theory. In reality both the strategic means and the political ends will be limited from the theoretical absolute by any number of variables – finite resources, difficult terrain, the weather, ad infinitum.18 The fundamental limiting factor here is politics. The strategic ends must be in keeping with the political end. If the political ends possess a clearly circumscribed objective the strategic ends are likely to be proportionate to that objective in order to retain the political efficacy of war. So, for example, one would be unlikely to use nuclear weapons to resolve a minor border dispute. As Clausewitz maintained, ‘The political object . . . will thus determine both the military objective to be reached and the amount of effort it requires.’19 War must not lose its functionality. This understanding is especially relevant for any combatant engaged in an asymmetrical conflict with non-state paramilitary opponents because the stakes are not necessarily going to be particularly high. Hence, relating this understanding to Northern Ireland, the strategic implications are that governmental responses to the crisis are likely to be limited and proportional because basic issues of state-survival are not threatened. Within Clausewitz’s theoretical duel there may be a tendency for either side to escalate. As Herman Kahn, observed there is likely to be a ‘competition in risk-taking and a matching of local resources’ between two sides in a conflict. The expectation inherent in any attempt to escalate, Kahn continued, is that ‘either side could win by increasing its efforts in some way, provided the other

Means

Ends

Politics

Political means: war

Aims of war

Strategy

Military means

Aims in war

Combat

Aims of combat

Tactics

Figure 14.1 The relationship between means and ends in war.

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side did not negate the increase by increasing its own efforts’.20 One must bear in mind that in asymmetrical conflict the ability for one side – usually a nonstate actor – to increase its efforts, in terms of its capability, are often severely limited vis-à-vis its manifestly stronger opponent. The more powerful combatant may then attempt to stop the other from escalating through containment measures rather than something more absolute. The reason for favouring Liddell-Hart’s definition of strategy in this assessment is that, as Lawrence Freedman explains, it preserves the ‘connection with military means and in this differs from other contending definitions for twentieth century strategy’.21 Some commentators suggest that there are different levels at which strategy can be understood that encompass the non-military dimensions of a conflict,22 such as the political, economic and legislative, and incorporating them into the broad definition of ‘Grand Strategy’. For instance, Edward Mead Earle defines strategy as ‘the art of controlling and utilising the resources of a nation . . . including its armed forces to the end that its vital interests shall be effectively promoted and secured’.23 Freedman advises against the temptations of interpreting strategy in this manner, warning that: if we have to focus on all methods prevailing in any given conflict, the study of strategy ceases to be distinct from the study of diplomacy, or international relations in general, and the sense that we are dealing with functional and purposive violence is lost.24 For its part, British Military Doctrine recognises four levels of conflict: grand strategic, military strategic, operational and tactical. Grand Strategy is ‘the application of national resources to achieve policy objectives [and] will invariably include diplomatic and economic resources’. Military Strategy is ‘the application of military resources to achieve the military aspects of grand strategic objectives’.25 A dilemma thus arises: from all the sources consulted, there is general agreement that the maintenance of security in Northern Ireland involves multiple national resources and political means. Ian Kerr, Head of the Security Policy and Operations Unit in the Northern Ireland Office, states that security policy requires the ‘fulfilment of the broader political and socio-economic agenda, removing the causes of the conflict’.26 For example, the economic regeneration of areas like West Belfast is seen to enhance security, because it improves living standards in Catholic communities, thereby weakening the resort to violence resulting from social inequality.27 Nevertheless, to retain a clear focus, the primary concentration of this analysis is on the functionality of military strategy to achieve the military aspects of policy objectives. It is this dimension that will be elucidated below.

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Political ends Peace The first and overarching political aim has to be peace. The basis of the contract between the individual and the state is that in return for liberty, the state promises to provide security to the individual.28 That is, to ensuring that people are able to live in peace, secure against violence and constant challenges.29 Of course, there are many different ways to interpret what ‘peace’ means, but in the Northern Ireland context it refers to the return to conditions of normality. In this respect, the province is still not strictly a peaceful society, free from threats to the individual, and in varying degrees still subject to ‘constant challenge’. There remains the dual conflict of British-Republican and Loyalist-Republican interests, along with a host of other inter-communal tensions. Thus, the basic aim of the British government, as the sovereign authority, is to ‘secure lasting peace . . . in which the rights and identities of all traditions . . . are fully respected . . . and in which a safe, stable, just, open and tolerant society can thrive and prosper’.30 This is a traditional understanding of peace and constitutes the understanding used in this analysis. Even so, while they may share the above values, many Irish Nationalists and Republicans would no doubt understand true peace only when Northern Ireland becomes part of a united Ireland. In Northern Ireland, the distinctive historical characteristics of the conflict have been classically represented as the divergence between the ‘bullet’ and the ‘ballot’ as ways of achieving political ends. Irish Nationalists have historically had the objective of separating Northern Ireland from the UK and forging unity with the South. A variety of non-violent and parliamentary means have been employed over the years in an attempt to achieve this objective. As we know, some Republicans have been prepared to use physical force, aiming to ‘drive the British army into the sea’.31 Likewise, elements associated with unionism/loyalism have used violence to defend the union with Britain. Whereas Sinn Féin, as the political arm of the IRA and now the main political expression of nationalism in Northern Ireland, would once have fully endorsed the armed struggle as the principal method of attaining Republican goals, the party now embraces elements of the democratic process to advance the movement’s interests. This change in emphasis arose as a result of the ‘military stalemate’ and the realisation that Republicans would never prevail in armed struggle.32 As a result, political negotiation has gradually become the prime method of business in Northern Ireland even though there are still those who continue to adhere to the violent alternative. The British objectives – those goals that aim to attain peace – in Northern Ireland are very limited, but crucially they address the divergence in means. The overall thrust of current security policy, of which the Army remains a crucial pillar, is to further manage the transition of the political atmosphere away from the emphasis on violent means to prosecute political objectives towards more peaceful means of political expression. From the general principle that the

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overall political aim is to secure a favourable peace we can identify more specific policy objectives. Power sharing governance Although Northern Ireland is part of the United Kingdom’s sovereign territory, the British government has declared that it has no ‘strategic’ interest in the province. The reference to ‘strategic’ interest refers to the idea that there is no desire to hold on to the province for any other reason than this remains the wish of the majority of its population. This was stated unequivocally by the then Northern Ireland Secretary Peter Brooke in 1990, who declared that there was ‘no selfish strategic or economic interest in Northern Ireland . . . Britain’s purpose . . . is not to occupy, oppress or exploit but to ensure democratic debate and free democratic choice’.33 The government has continually reiterated that democratic means must prevail. In May 1997 British Prime Minister Tony Blair endorsed explicitly the principle of consent: ‘None of us . . . is likely to see Northern Ireland as anything but part of the UK . . . That is the reality, because the consent principle is almost universally accepted’.34 This was also a policy that had some correspondence with Blair’s wider devolution plans for Wales and Scotland. It is in this context that he believed that a consociational compromise would provide the solution encompassing both Nationalists and Unionists by establishing a power-sharing system of governance.35 The Belfast Agreement is the vehicle through which this policy has been driven and it has two main characteristics that aim to produce a constitutional settlement. Based on the principles of ‘consent’ and ‘no strategic interest’, it sets out a plan for devolved government in Northern Ireland in which all sections of the community can participate.36 Although the ‘troubles’ consist of a ‘web of problems’, the core issue – historically and currently – is about governance. The Agreement sought to provide an inclusive framework that afforded the opportunity for a complete rejection of violence as a means to an end. The key areas of social and economic policy would be managed by a cross-party elected assembly and a Northern Ireland Executive while relationship mechanisms between Northern Ireland, the Republic of Ireland and Great Britain would also be put into place.37 Here we can identify a further objective of British policy: to retain overall responsibility for constitutional and security issues. Crucially, the goals of British policy are augmented by ‘confidence-building measures’. These seek to address and compromise upon areas, which have traditionally been sources of tension, such as equal opportunities, policing, the administration of justice, decommissioning of paramilitary weapons, and the normalisation of security arrangements.38 The attainment of peace relies on the constitutional settlement working and this in turn relies on the will of the participants to want to make it work. As such, ideological concessions were made by both sides: the IRA/Sinn Féin accepting the principle of consent and the Unionists accepting Sinn Féin in government. However, as Tony Blair said, ‘even now, this will not work unless in your will and in your mind you make it

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work’.39 Political will can only be secured properly if both sides feel that satisfactory progress is being made with regard to their respective political goals and agendas. A power-sharing system of governance, which includes fulfilment of the confidence-building measures embracing those who wish to pursue democratic means, is therefore a primary political objective. The containment of ongoing conflict There are two caveats to be entered regarding the overarching goal of peace to be established through the mechanism of a workable power-sharing arrangement. The first is that while the Agreement aims to resolve the major causes of political and sectarian strife, plainly this is not going to be achieved quickly. As Tony Blair stated, when the Agreement was signed: ‘this isn’t the end. Today we have just a sense of the prize that is before us’.40 Indeed, the Executive has been suspended four times since 1998. Clearly the sectarian activity, and even occasional paramilitary bombings and killings are not simply going to disappear. For example, when the PIRA declared its second cessation of hostilities in July 1997, violence did not stop. The Northern Ireland Civil Rights Bureau calculated that between the signing of the Good Friday Agreement in 1998 and summer 1999, there were 61 PIRA and 71 Loyalist punishment shootings, and 152 IRA and 172 Loyalist punishment beatings.41 As well as taking time, the settlement is likely to work at different rates depending on the area of Northern Ireland. For instance, south Armagh is still an area where the PIRA maintains a strong relative power base. Therefore, there needs to be a policy which accounts for and addresses the ongoing remnants of the ‘troubles’. Second, and more specifically, while we have dealt with those actors who are committed – rhetorically at least – to peace and finding non-violent solutions, we must also acknowledge that there are those who are either neutral towards this position and will not seek to facilitate such an end, or, crucially, those who will proactively operate to undermine the objectives of the settlement. The prime examples of actors belonging to this group are the dissident Republican organisations, the ‘Real’ IRA (RIRA) and ‘Continuity’ IRA (CIRA). RIRA broke away from the PIRA in 1997 as a direct result of Sinn Féin’s policy of moving Republicanism into the political mainstream, resolving to continue the violent struggle against the British. Consequently, measures are required to address these twin issues that pose a challenge to the implementation of the Agreement. Both issues are addressed by classifying a second specific policy objective, namely, the containment of ongoing conflict. Under this category, security policy intends to deal with the problems arising from groups not involved in settlement negotiations. These include dissident paramilitary groups, sectarian gangs and other elements that may be identified as ‘anti-Agreement’ working to disrupt the Agreement. This objective can be construed only as a short- to medium-term goal to aid the transition to a peaceful society in the sense that British policy holds that a

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power-sharing settlement will provide the long-term solution. It is for this reason that the word ‘containment’ is used, rather than the more conclusive ‘elimination’, for example. Containment is not the ultimate political objective in securing peace: to reiterate, it is the belief of the British government that only a power-sharing settlement can ultimately do that. Containment of violence is an ongoing measure that will cease when it is no longer required. To appreciate how the fundamental aim of peace is to be achieved, the two specific policy ends identified here must be connected. In the context of the period in question, post-1998, one without the other would not accurately portray the reality of the situation and so would hinder our strategic understanding. To re-state again, then, there will be many resources, not just military, that will be employed to achieve the political ends. For example, as a confidence building measure, police reform has been one of the main demands of Nationalists many of whom perceived the Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC) as an instrument of repression and inequality, which was, according to Sinn Féin’s Alex Maskey, ‘totally unacceptable to the entire Nationalist people’.42 Hence, as a result of the commission chaired by Chris Patten, the Police Service of Northern Ireland (PSNI) came into being in 2000. Nevertheless, our absolute focus is to make explicit the army’s role in achieving the political ends outlined. And this can be seen most clearly by analysing the notion of ‘strategic ends’.

Strategic ends Strategic ends – the aims in war – also reside on a scale of limitation. For instance, we could suggest that the goal of forcing the withdrawal of the Iraqi armed forces from Kuwait in 1991, so regaining territorial control in order to achieve the political end of Kuwaiti liberation, represented a relatively limited strategic end. The destruction of an enemy’s entire means of resistance would constitute a larger strategic aim. In the Napoleonic era this entailed destroying the enemy armed forces, but in World War II the ‘enemy’ was extended to the industrial economy on the home front, which by implication included much of the non-combatant civilian populace. To understand how the British Army is used to attain current political objectives in Northern Ireland, one can refer to the words of one army commander who explained: ‘On a good day the army is part of the problem, on a bad day it is part of the solution.’43 That is, on a quiet, peaceful day the army’s presence contributes to the tension because it is a visible manifestation of the conflict, but on a violent day it helps prevent escalation of that tension, precisely because the army is on hand to deal with turbulent situations. As a result, the strategic ends work somewhat paradoxically to both resolve the ‘problem’ (part of the solution) but also maintain the ‘contribution’ the army makes (part of the problem). There are three components of the strategic ends that may be said to comprise British policy. The first is an explicit requirement of the Agreement and is concerned with securing Nationalist will to support the peace process and the struc-

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tures of power sharing. The second component is more implicit but derives from various official statements made over the previous five years that seek to secure Unionist will to support the Agreement. These two ends are coupled and relate mainly to the first political aim of a power-sharing settlement. The third component derives from the need to reinforce the first two and is concerned with neutralising peripheral threats that might destabilise the security environment and thereby jeopardise political dialogue. These three strategic ends will be further elaborated. Normalisation of security arrangements The first strategic end, which can be said to be aimed primarily at securing the consent of the Nationalist community, is the normalisation of security arrangements in the province. That is, the reduction of the overt presence of the army. The Good Friday Agreement states: the development of a peaceful environment . . . can and should mean a normalisation of security arrangements . . . The British Government will make progress towards the objective of as early a return as possible to normal security arrangements . . . [including] i) the reduction of the numbers and role of the Armed Forces . . . to levels compatible with a normal society; ii) the removal of security installations; iii) the removal of emergency powers.44 The reduction of the military presence has certain altruistic connotations. As GOC, Lt. Gen. Irwin commented, ‘My feelings about the army having to be deployed in Northern Ireland [are ones of] tremendous sadness because its the United Kingdom and it shouldn’t be happening’.45 Thus, the reduction in the role and responsibilities of the army in Northern Ireland is viewed by the army itself as a desirable goal. Evidently, though, the principal aim of this stipulation in the Agreement is to secure Republican and Nationalist backing because it is essentially directed at the demilitarisation of the conflict. Through its willingness to embrace the notion of a power-sharing arrangement for Northern Ireland Sinn Féin has demonstrated that it is committed in some respects to the democratic process. Even so, despite the concessions made to Nationalist sentiment under the terms of the Agreement, these have not altered the fundamental Republican goal of a united Ireland. As the alleged PIRA chief of staff Brian Keenan affirmed in 2001, ‘the revolution can never be over until we have British imperialism where it belongs – in the dustbin of history’.46 The British Army has been the PIRA’s declared enemy as the ‘oppressive forces of occupation’ and in order to accept the principle of consent and the Agreement itself, Sinn Féin and the PIRA have demanded that ‘all the guns’ are ‘taken out of Irish politics’.47 Any gestures they make must be matched by British ‘demilitarisation’. As one PIRA statement read:

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C. Bass and M.L.R. Smith The full implementation, on a progressive and irreversible basis . . . especially [by] the British government, of what they have agreed [i.e. normalisation] will provide a political context . . . in which Irish Republicans and Unionists can, as equals pursue our respective political objectives peacefully.48

Therefore, the first discernible strategic end to which British policy is committed and for which the army is intended to play its part, is to actually reduce the exposition of military power in order to secure Republican endorsement. Strategic theory tells us that military power does not have to be physically employed to be functional. The ‘carrot’ of reducing the army’s role and visibility in the province as and when conditions require is an effective way of utilising military power in the pursuit of the political goal of a power-sharing settlement. This is a necessary component of the strategic ends, particularly for its symbolic meaning to the Republicans as an indication of British will to de-escalate the conflict. Termination of the PIRA as a paramilitary force By itself the attempt to normalise security arrangements is insufficient. While it is a key demand of the Republicans, this measure provides no satisfaction for Unionists. To secure their backing Unionists need to see something in return, and as such we need to look at the notion of ‘decommissioning’. The key clause in the Agreement reads: ‘All participants accordingly reaffirm their commitment to the total disarmament of all paramilitary organisations.’49 From the outset, Ulster Unionist Party leader David Trimble insisted on ‘guns before government’,50 demanding that the IRA must start decommissioning before Sinn Féin could enter into any power-sharing government, principally because Unionists regard Sinn Féin as one and the same organisation. Certainly, the British government saw a clear obligation on the part of the paramilitaries to decommission since their political representatives – Sinn Féin, the Ulster Democratic Party (UDP), the Progressive Unionist Party (PUP) – had all signed up to the Agreement and its clauses. However, the issue was fudged. At no time did the IRA agree to actually hand over its weapons, and the Loyalist paramilitaries – the Ulster Defence Association (UDA) and the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) – made it clear that they would only start to decommission once the IRA began.51 One may be tempted to say that the decommissioning of IRA weapons – by which we refer to the main faction of the IRA commonly known as the Provisional IRA (there is not just one IRA it should be remembered) – is thus the second strategic goal of the British government because it is necessary to secure political trust. But the second strategic end does, in fact, go beyond just decommissioning. The arms issue has rumbled on unresolved. The PIRA has consistently stated that it would not ‘surrender’ any weapons,52 although over the past four years, beginning in October 2001, the IRA has moved to put quantities of arms

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‘permanently beyond use’.53 However, the reason for the fourth and latest suspension of the power-sharing Executive was not just because of the impasse over decommissioning but because of allegations of PIRA intelligence-gathering in the Northern Ireland Assembly’s secretariat during October 2002.54 This followed the arrest of three suspected IRA men accused of training the anti-US guerrilla movement, the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Columbia (FARC),55 and also suspected PIRA involvement in a break-in at Castlereagh police station.56 Unionists say they do not know if Republicans are pursuing a dual strategy of taking part in constitutional politics while retaining the capacity for violence.57 The result of these events is that it became increasingly difficult for Unionists to believe the IRA’s claim of genuine intentions of peace. It is now not just an impasse over decommissioning but seemingly a proactive continuation of their struggle. David Trimble labelled it as ‘political conspiracy on a massive scale’,58 claiming there was ‘an unambiguous finger pointing towards the IRA and the Republicans in de-stabilising Unionist confidence’.59 As such the Unionists have raised the stakes and led calls for the formal disbandment of the IRA. A review of recent statements from the British government makes apparent that it too expects more than just decommissioning. In a television interview in February 2003, the Northern Ireland Secretary Paul Murphy stated: the key issue is the end of paramilitary activity . . . they [the IRA] have to cease activity fully, totally and permanently . . . we would like to see the end of procurement of weapons, so-called punishment beatings, the end of activity . . . We want the IRA to be inactive.60 In the course of the interview Murphy was asked: ‘Would they [the IRA] have to say publicly they had disbanded?’ To this, Murphy replied, ‘I don’t know.’61 But, he continually repeated the word ‘cease’ or ‘cessation’ and this means something much more conclusive than ‘decommissioning’. Elsewhere, Tony Blair has said ‘the fork in the road has finally come . . . we cannot carry on with the IRA half in, half out of this process . . . Remove the threat of violence and the peace process is on an unstoppable path’.62 This suggests that, if the threat must be removed to achieve peace, then those groups posing a threat should also be removed. Therefore, we must discern if the PIRA really does pose a continuing threat. We can do this via a simple equation: CAPABILITY  INTENT = THREAT. Here, capability refers to the capacity to carry out threats. Intent refers to the willingness to execute the threat. The existence of just one or the other of these facets does not qualify as a threat, both are needed to constitute a hazard. In the case of the PIRA, they are officially on ceasefire but their genuine intentions are in doubt. In terms of their capability, the then (Acting) Assistant Chief Constable of Police Service of Northern Ireland, Maggie Hunter argued in late 2003 that they ‘still have major [her emphasis] capabilities and the infrastructure’.63

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Ian Kerr agreed with this assessment, suggesting that the IRA remains ‘by far and away the best armed [paramilitary group] in Northern Ireland and possibly even Western Europe’.64 Threat does not inhere in capabilities alone but with the PIRA’s intentions in doubt, it would be logical to deduce that the second strategic end of the British government is not just decommissioning of weapons but an overall termination of the PIRA as a paramilitary force. This may well have always been a strategic end but on the basis of the evidence of the past five years, and despite the PIRA ceasefire and the inclusion of Republicans in negotiations, it is reasonable to assume that the British government wishes to see an end to the PIRA. Even Sinn Féin’s Gerry Adams stated that disbandment of the PIRA would be a ‘laudable and necessary objective’, though this is subject to the usual Republican caveats about removing the ‘causes’ of the conflict.65 Thus, we have discerned two strategic ends: (i) reduction in the British military presence (‘normalisation’ as specified in the Belfast Agreement), which should help secure the will of the Republicans, and (ii) termination of the PIRA (stemming from the notion of ‘decommissioning’ outlined in the Agreement), intended to secure the will of the Unionists. These two ends are both essential requirements. The reduction of troop numbers on its own is a necessary but insufficient condition, the termination of the IRA is also a pre-requisite to attain peace. Both measures are required because it is possible that the termination of the IRA without a reduction in troop numbers could create a vacuum into which a number of rejectionist splinter groups could fall. In this respect, the PIRA is, from a British government perspective, a relatively known quantity with a measurable base of support, via Sinn Féin, which provides a certain amount of stability. Elimination of other sources of instability We now come to the third component of the strategic ends. The first two on their own are probably enough to secure the backing of the main actors for a power sharing settlement. But they are not enough to secure the second political aim of the prevention of ongoing conflict because they do not deal with other parties that may affect the overall direction of the peace process. Hence, the third strategic end is to eliminate other sources of instability. The PIRA is still a factor in the post-Good Friday Agreement violence and like the first two strategic ends, which are coupled to secure the power-sharing agreement, the second and third strategic ends have to be coupled to execute the policy of the containment of civil conflict. The other sources of instability vary. The main threat is posed by RIRA, which was responsible for the Omagh bombing on 15 August 1998 that killed 29 people and injured over 300 others. This was the worst single atrocity in 30 years of violence, occurring after the signing of the Agreement. The RIRA was also responsible for the bomb outside BBC Television Centre in London, in March 2001. According to Ian Kerr the ‘Real IRA’ constitutes:

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the largest and most significant dissidents and the greatest single threat to the peace process . . . it took with it a lot of its [the IRA’s] most seasoned terrorists and engineering expertise and is now in a position to build and deploy routinely the, for example, Mark 15 mortar.66 Kerr went on to note that the other main potential source of instability emanating from the Republican spectrum, the ‘Continuity’ IRA, has a ‘credibility problem in terrorist circles’ because it ‘hasn’t been responsible for any deaths’, and ‘its political leadership is held in some disdain [by the rest of the dissident Republican movement]’.67 The assessment of the Loyalist paramilitaries is somewhat different. The UDA, Kerr maintains, consists of five to six warlords and their entourages ‘who have banded together in the name of Loyalism, in response to Republican terror’ but have ‘largely lost the plot’ and reverted to being ‘largely criminal’. Their armaments do make them ‘quite dangerous as they descend into a mafia-type culture’.68 The UDA announced a ceasefire on 22 February 2003, according to a Loyalist spokesman, in order to help Loyalists ‘face the challenges of political change’.69 The UVF is ‘more controlled, less volatile’ and ‘showing increasing disaffection with the peace process’, but ‘in recent times it has tended to be involved in feuds with other factions within Loyalism rather than attacking the other side’.70 Loyalist paramilitaries, in terms of capability and intent, are not such a threat to the actual peace process, but more to overall peace in society, and therefore constitutes another source of instability. ACC Hunter identified public order as one of the key sources of instability in Northern Ireland, labelling sectarian gangs as a ‘major feature in the public order situation, especially in the Belfast region: people just can’t live beside another person from the other community’.71 She also distinguished organised crime and punishment gangs, linked to paramilitaries, as very significant. She explained that contrary to claims that these groups are ‘only filling the absence of an effective police service’, in reality ‘its all about control in those areas where paramilitary gangs on both sides want to keep a grip in the areas which they live and control’. Money issues in the form of racketeering also feature.72 Much of the Loyalist threat has mutated into the organised criminal domain, part of the ‘legacy of terrorism’,73 and as such will be dealt with by the police and other agencies (like HM Customs and Excise). In 2000 the Organised Crime Task Force was set up to do just this, as a ‘manifestation of the Government’s determination to help Northern Ireland make the transition to normal society’.74 However, the Army’s official statement Normalisation – The Army’s Vision of its Future in Northern Ireland states unequivocally that ‘the army’s role will cease when the police no longer require routine military support to maintain law and order’.75 The police are still not at a stage where they no longer require army support. As ACC Hunter declared, ‘over the last eighteen months I couldn’t have policed Belfast without the army . . . and I suppose that extends to the medium term because I don’t see that this tension going on at the minute

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disappearing overnight’.76 Hence the third strategic end in the exercise of military power in the province is to prevent other sources of conflict and destabilisation and to terminate other terrorist groups. Our final task is to identify the strategic means.

Strategic means Strategic means refers to the specific actions to attain the goals of strategy. In military terms strategic means can encompass a range of techniques to compel the enemy to submit to one’s will. The possible list of categories is too long to enumerate, but historical examples might include the use of force-on-force battles to destroy enemy forces in the Napoleonic era, or the use of aerial bombardment in the Gulf War to paralyse Saddam Hussein’s decision-making centres in the Gulf War of 1990/1991 and the Iraq War of 2003 in order to inhibit the command and control of Iraqi forces. There are many other gradations, but the techniques of military power that constitute the strategic means in Northern Ireland are outlined below. Bargaining The first strategic end, that of normalisation, in part consists of literally reducing the role, numbers and installations of the Army. As the Army is not involved in a campaign this is not to be seen as a defeat or a retreat but a reduction in Military Aid to the Civil Power to levels commensurate with the conditions of normal, peaceful society that pertain in other areas of the United Kingdom. There will always continue to be elements of the Army garrisoned in the province just like any other region on the mainland. Plus, as ACC Hunter pointed out, ‘we will still require the Army for a technical role, in bomb disposal for example’77 (and this does not presuppose a connection with local paramilitary activity because bombs could come from foreign terrorists, animal rights activists, etc.). Nevertheless, one of the issues arising from this reduction is the anxiety that the British government will reduce the military presence at the expense of security. The Unionist politician Billy Armstrong argues that government is moving too quickly: they are appeasing terrorists by taking their security forces away before they should . . . it’s just the same if you have a dam, and area is going to be flooded, you get rid of the water before you take down the dam.78 Such sentiments, though, may be based on a false premise. The security equation is not simply about reducing troop levels to placate the IRA. Normalisation should not be understood merely as a one way measure: a case of just going ahead and reducing the role of the army because Republicans say that is a pre-

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requisite for them to accept any settlement. Rather, it is dependent on the IRA reciprocating in kind by decommissioning, as a requirement of the Belfast Agreement. For instance, the Army dismantled some its fortifications, such as the Newtownhamilton supersangar watchtower in south Armagh, just two days after the IRA’s first act of decommissioning in October 2001.79 However, over the past five years, one has not seen a steady and continual reduction in the army’s presence. This is because, as Michael Page suggests, in the period since the initial IRA ceasefire in 1994 the numbers of the armed forces serving ‘has fluctuated depending on the level of the security threat’.80 So, for example, Army numbers are increased during the marching season, traditionally a time of high tension. Consequently, pressure is exerted on the paramilitaries to ‘reciprocate’, because a direct link is established between the level of army activity and that of the paramilitaries themselves. Recent talks to restore the power-sharing assembly have alluded to this linkage. For example, a Sunday Times report stated: The Prime Minister is poised to unveil a historic deal with the IRA that would effectively put the paramilitary organisation out of business. The settlement would promise troop reductions and other reforms in return for an end to IRA activity and the visible decommissioning of its arsenal of weapons. (authors’ emphasis)81 Here, one should note the explicit principle of reciprocation and a suggested end state. Rather than just a matter of a continual reduction, the first category of the strategic means that we can identify is that of bargaining, namely, the exertion of political pressure in order to achieve both normalisation and an end to the PIRA. To help conceptualise this, we can turn to the strategic theories of Thomas Schelling. Schelling says that we must not ‘deny that there are common as well as conflicting interests among the participants’. Conflicts are often bargaining situations where ‘the ability of one participant to gain his ends is dependent to an important degree on the choices or decisions that the other participant will make’. Applying this understanding the British can ‘tacit[ly] manoeuvre’ by reducing the military presence in exchange for ‘reciprocation’.82 But the British can then indicate to Republicans that the costs of not ‘reciprocating’ would outweigh the costs of doing so, in the form of increasing the military presence. This indeed appears to be the British modus operandi because as GOC Lt. Gen. Irwin affirmed ‘it depends on what you need to do, [but] it’s a fundamental principle, you use what tools you’ve got’.83 Bargaining with military power will achieve the first strategic end, contribute to the second but not the third. Therefore we need to highlight a second set of strategic means to consolidate the termination of the IRA and to terminate other sources of destabilisation through the exercise of military force.

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The exercise of military force The clue to understand this role lies in unpacking conceptual distinctions. ‘Strategy’, Schelling continues, ‘is not concerned with the efficient application of force but with the exploitation of potential force’.84 This constitutes the bargaining strand. However, for ‘potential force’ we can read ‘military power’ because there is a distinction between military ‘power’ and military ‘force’. John Garnett tells us that military ‘power’ emphasises a political relationship between . . . adversaries rather than a catalogue of capabilities . . . the difference between the exercise of military force and military power is the difference between taking what you want and persuading someone to give it to you.85 Thus, bargaining with ‘power’ aims to persuade the PIRA to ultimately disband. Even so, because this will not happen in the short-term and because both the PIRA and other groups present an ongoing problem in the meantime, the second set of strategic means concerns the actual exercise of military force. This is not to persuade but to procure the termination of other destabilising sources and reinforce the effort towards the termination of the PIRA. In this regard, the Army’s role in Northern Ireland is not a campaign like that in the Balkans where the specific goal was to stop warring factions from fighting each other. The Army is there to support the police. As such there are three elements to the army’s application of military force, to assist the police, in pursuit of the second and third strategic ends. The first of these is attrition. According to the Army, this means the ‘reduction of the terrorists’ capability through the arrest of suspects and the seizure of their weapons, ammunition and explosives’.86 In terms of the dissident groups, attrition negates their capability and this clearly helps to terminate other sources of instability. As regards the PIRA, if weapons are seized, as opposed to handed over in acts of decommissioning, or indeed if suspects involved in illegal activity are arrested, the political pressure is increased on the Republican side as a whole. This, as well as reducing the PIRA’s capability, will either compel the PIRA into a more proactive, credible subscription to the peace process or induce their political representatives to seek further moves towards PIRA disbandment in order to demonstrate their commitment to peace. Either way, it contributes to the reduction and eventual termination of the PIRA’s paramilitary posture. The second element is reassurance. This is designed to protect the whole community. If an army presence allows the ordinary person to go about their day to day lives free from sectarian, criminal and paramilitary pressures this, thereby, reduces the reach of those who seek to destabilise the peace process. The net result is a shift towards the termination of sources of instability. Reassurance is linked to the third element of deterrence, which is especially important in public order situations. The notion of deterrence posits that the best

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way to dissuade an enemy from an action is through threat of reprisal, the outcome of which for the enemy would outweigh any gains they could hope to make through their initial action. Successful deterrence requires intent and capability. The objective of the termination of sources of instability is a relatively limited goal (intent), yet there is a clear asymmetry between the army and dissident groups and sectarian gangs (capability). It thus follows that army-deterrent activity would start at a very low-level (in proportion to its actual potential) and could include foot, mobile and helicopter patrols as just a visible presence would introduce doubt and uncertainty, acting as a barrier to those seeking to destabilise the political environment.87 The main point here is that however much dissident groups try to increase their impact, or however serious civil disturbances may get, the army will always be able to escalate to the next level and, such is the asymmetry in capability, it will always prevail and the situation will be recontained. This concept is integral to the overall thrust of Army activity, as we will surmise in the conclusion.

A strategic understanding of the role of the army In summary, in order to achieve the fundamental aim of peace through a powersharing settlement and containment of ongoing conflict in Northern Ireland we need to understand that the Army is but one tool used by the British government. The strategic aims are a reduction in the military presence, the termination of the PIRA and the removal of other sources of instability. Bargaining with military power seeks to secure the first and partly the second strategic end, while the application of military force aims to complete the second and achieve the third strategic end. This assessment has not concerned itself with recounting specific army operations but has tried instead to theorise about the role of the army and the wider context of British security policy in order to explain its continuing importance in the post-1998 situation. A crucial insight we can draw from this analysis is that the apparent dichotomy of normalisation and the continuing threat is false. The British are not embarking upon wholesale reductions in military power oblivious to other considerations. As ACC Hunter observed, there is an element of risk but ‘the government has indicated that whatever they do in terms of normalisation will be threat driven’.88 Ian Kerr argues that a measure of optimism is certainly required and since the signing of the Agreement 3,000–4,000 troops have been sent back to the mainland and 48 bases closed. But, as Kerr emphasises, there is a natural ceiling to the process of troop reductions in any circumstances ‘where we cannot go further without impacting adversely on our capability to meet the residual threat’.89 In meeting the residual threat, we dealt with the concepts of intent and capability, escalation and asymmetry. Fundamentally, in a liberal democratic polity the Army cannot just go in and wipe out terrorist groups and incarcerate sympathisers and sectarian gangs, even though it possesses the capability as this would be redolent of the worst autocracies where suspects merely vanish at the hands of the secret police. Even though, as one retired police Special Branch officer

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claims, the army and police know the whereabouts of most of the terrorist actors, both leaders and rank and file,90 the state could not and still cannot justify doing this because of adherence to core values of the right to trial and the presumption of innocence. However, for its part the PIRA could never challenge the overwhelmingly superior power of the British state. This necessitated the PIRA’s resort to different strategic methods. While wanting to inflict losses on the security forces and make political statements through dramatic acts of violence, the movement always had to be careful not to go so far as to legitimise any inclination for the state to come after them in a much more brutally concerted fashion.91 Therefore, the PIRA had to observe clear limits on its force, for example, being careful to phone ahead warnings of impending bombings. As long as ‘minimal’ force was used and a certain line not crossed, and despite the emotional and moral outcry resulting from its actions, the PIRA could not be destroyed because the state could not, in the end, justify draconian countermeasures. Internment without trial in the 1970s was perhaps as close as the state got to imposing an authoritarian solution, provoking outrage in Nationalist communities and probably inadvertently deepened the conflict.92 Currently, because of the peace process and the politicisation of both army and paramilitary actions, the use of the Army must be even more restrained. But this, paradoxically, represents the best opportunity of using military power to achieve political ends and this is why we end up with a complex and subtle strategic understanding. By including representatives of the Republican movement in negotiations Sinn Féin and the IRA are compelled to strike compromises and make concessions because that is what negotiation is about. Therefore, the potential exists to wear down the PIRA and erode its capabilities to a much greater extent than military containment could ever achieve on its own. The Army presence remains, thereby, vitally instrumental in this process. It has been indicated that by bargaining with military power it is possible to degrade the capacity of the PIRA. Moreover, by making the degree of Army reductions contingent on the threat posed, a fluid situation is created. The utility of the army therefore acts to demonstrate the willingness to accommodate Republican wishes (through force reductions) while concurrent military operations continue to seek to expose the PIRA and increase the political pressure on it to further erode its military potential (while also dealing with all the other threat sources discussed): every day of non-activity since the signing of the Agreement puts pressure on the movement. Hence, the political pressure is slowly increasing to induce the PIRA to do more than just decommission but eventually to undertake to dissolve itself. This is reflected in the shift of emphasis in official British rhetoric from IRA decommissioning to PIRA disbandment. As can be seen, the British Army, while it may be forgotten, remains an integral player in the peace process, and as a result, the British government is arguably nearer to terminating the PIRA than it ever was during the most violent years of the conflict itself.

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Notes 1 See Defence Analytical Services Agency, Military Aid the Civil Power in Northern Ireland (Ministry of Defence), www.mod.uk/natstats/stats/ukds/2002/chaps/frame. html. 2 House of Commons Debates, www.parliament.the-stationery-office.co.uk/pa/ cm199900/cmhansrd/vo000222/debtext/00222-31.htm. 3 CAIN http://cain.ulst.ac.uk/sutton/tables/, accessed 2 February 2003. 4 Belfast Agreement (April 1998) Declaration 1–4, www.nio.gov.uk/issues/agreement.htm. 5 Ministry of Defence, www.army.mod.uk/hqni/unitsandorg. 6 ‘UK committed to keeping 10,000 troops in Iraq until 2007’, the Scotsman, 9 January 2004. 7 GOC Interview, 2 December 2002. 8 GOC Interview. 9 See Chris Ryder (1989) The RUC: A Force Under Fire (London: Methuen), pp. 136–225 and Hamill, pp. 159–223. 10 GOC Interview. 11 Carl von Clausewitz (1976) On War (trans. Peter Paret and Michael Howard) (Princeton: Princeton University Press), p. 207. 12 Lawrence Freedman (1989) The Evolution of Nuclear Strategy (London: Macmillan), p. xx. 13 Michael Howard (1983) The Causes of War (London: Counterpoint), p. 36. 14 F. Lopez Alves (1989) ‘Political crises, strategic choices, and terrorism: the rise and fall of the Uruguayan Tupamaros’, Terrorism and Political Violence 1:2, p. 204. 15 Basil Liddell-Hart (1967) Strategy: The Indirect Approach (London: Faber), p. 334. 16 Martin van Creveld (1997) ‘What is wrong with Clausewitz?’ in Gert de Nooy (ed.) The Clausewitzian Dictum and the Future of Western Military Strategy (The Hague: Kluwer Law International), p. 18. 17 Jan Willem Honig (1997) ‘Strategy in a post Clausewitzian setting’ in Gert de Nooy (ed.) The Clausewitzian Dictum and the Future of Western Military Strategy (The Hague: Kluwer Law International), p. 110. 18 Clausewitz, pp. 75–80. 19 Ibid., p. 90. 20 Herman Kahn (1969) On Escalation (London: Pall Mall Press), p. 3. 21 Freedman, p. xx. 22 Paul Kennedy (ed.) (1991) Grand Strategy in War and Peace (New Haven: Yale University Press), p. 2. 23 Edward Mead Earle (ed.) (1943) Makers of Modern Strategy (Princeton: Princeton University Press), p. viii. 24 Freedman, p. xx. 25 Directorate General of Development and Doctrine (British Army), (2000) Operational Art (London: Army Doctrine Publications) Ch. 3 Ser. 0303. 26 Ian Kerr Interview, 29 November 2002. 27 Peter R. Neumann (2003) Britain’s Long War: British Government Strategy in Northern Ireland (London: Palgrave), pp. 17–40. 28 Max Weber (1948) From Max Weber: Essays in Sociology (trans. and edition H.H. Gerth and C. Wright-Mills) (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul), p. 78. 29 Hedley Bull (1997) The Anarchical Society: A Study of Order in World Politics (London: Macmillan), p. 4. 30 Northern Ireland Office, ‘Government’s Security Policy’, www.nio.gov.uk/issues/ security.htm. 31 Martin Meehan, quoted in Peter Taylor (1997) Brits: The War Against the IRA (London: Bloomsbury), p. 112.

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32 Smith, pp. 214–217. 33 Peter Brooke, speech to the British Association of Canned Food Importers and Distributors, Whitbread Restaurant, London, 9 November 1990, quoted in Taylor (note 41), pp. 313–314. 34 Tony Blair, speech to the Balmoral Agriculture Show, Belfast, 16 May 1997, quoted in Taylor, p. 361. 35 Taylor, p. 361. 36 Northern Ireland Office, ‘The Agreement’, www.nio.gov.uk/issues/agreemain.htm. 37 Northern Ireland Office, ‘The Agreement’, www.nio.gov.uk/issues/agreelinks/agreement.htm. 38 Michael von Tangen Page (2000) A Negative Peace: Northern Ireland and the Good Friday Agreement, Global Security Studies 2 (London: Centre for Defence Studies), p. 34. 39 Irish News, 10 April 1998, cited in Taylor, p. 365. 40 Ibid. 41 Ibid., p. 72. 42 Alex Maskey, quoted in John McGarry and Brendan O’Leary (1999) Policing Northern Ireland: Proposals for a New Start (Belfast: Blackstaff), p. 7. 43 Quoted by Ian Kerr, Interview. 44 Northern Ireland Office, ‘The Agreement’, Security 1–2, www.nio.gov.uk/issues/ agreement.htm. 45 GOC Interview. 46 Quoted in the Daily Telegraph, 27 February 2001. 47 IRA statement, 1994, http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/northern_ireland/1144568.stm. 48 IRA statement, 6 May 2000, http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/northern_ireland/738718.stm. 49 Northern Ireland Office, ‘The Agreement’, Security 1–2, www.nio.gov.uk/issues/ agreement.htm. 50 BBC News, ‘Trimble flies into political questions’ 20 March 2000, http://news.bbc. co.uk/1/hi/northern_ireland/683711.stm. 51 Combined Loyalist Military Command statement, 13 October 1994. See K.E. Schulze and M.L.R. Smith (1999) Dilemmas of Decommissioning (London: Politeia), pp. 25–27. 52 See Michael von Tangen Page (1999) ‘Arms Decommissioning and the Northern Ireland Peace Agreement’, Security Dialogue, 29:4, p. 411. 53 Blair, 23 October 2001, quoted in Taylor, p. 392. 54 BBC News ‘ “Spy” probe triggered by police source’, 12 November 2002, http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/northern_ireland/2453149.stm. 55 ‘IRA “Trained Farc Terrorists” ’, Irish Independent, 18 May 2002. 56 Rosie Cowan, ‘Republicans Held Over Raid at Castlereagh’, Guardian, 1 April 2002. 57 BBC News, ‘Northern Ireland: how the trust was lost’, 10 October 2002, http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/northern_ireland/2317501.stm. 58 BBC News, ‘Sinn Féin accused of political conspiracy’, 7 October 2002, http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/northern_ireland/2304015.stm. 59 BBC News, ‘Blair demands end to IRA violence’, 17 October 2002, http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/northern_ireland/2337219.stm, accessed 29 January 2004. 60 BBC Newsnight, 12 February 2003. 61 Ibid. 62 BBC News, ‘Blair demands end to IRA violence’, 17 October 2002, http://news. bbc.co.uk/1/hi/northern_ireland/2337219.stm. 63 ACC Interview, 28 November 2002. 64 Ian Kerr Interview. 65 BBC News, ‘NI Executive to be Suspended’, 10 October 2002,http://news.bbc.co.uk/ 1/hi/northern_ireland/231701.stm. 66 Ian Kerr Interview. 67 Ibid.

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68 Ibid. 69 Frankie Gallagher, Ulster Political Research Group, quoted in ‘Cautious welcome for Loyalist move’, 23 February 2003, http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/northern_ireland/ 2789843.stm. 70 Ian Kerr Interview. 71 ACC Interview. 72 Ibid. 73 Ian Kerr Interview. 74 Adam Ingram, Minister of State, Foreword to Northern Ireland Organised Crime Task Force (2001) Confronting the Threat: Strategy 2001–2 (Belfast: Northern Ireland Office) p. 3. 75 Ministry of Defence, ‘Normalisation – the Army’s vision of its future in Northern Ireland’, www.army.mod.uk/aishqni/Peace_Process/The_Army_s_Vision.htm. 76 ACC Interview. 77 Ibid. 78 Billy Armstrong Interview, 28 November 2002. 79 BBC News at Nine, 23 October 2001. 80 Von Tangen Page, p. 41. 81 Liam Clarke and David Cracknell (2003) ‘IRA ready to lay down arms in return for troop cutbacks’, Sunday Times, 23 February. 82 Thomas Schelling (1980) The Strategy of Conflict (Harvard: Harvard University Press), p. 5. 83 GOC Interview. 84 Ibid. 85 John Garnett (1975) ‘The Role of Military Power’, in John Baylis, Ken Booth, John Garnett and Phil Williams, Contemporary Strategy: Theories and Policies (London: Croom Helm), p. 59. 86 The Army Headquarters, Northern Ireland, www.army.mod.uk/hqni. 87 The Army Headquarters, Northern Ireland, ‘Military operations’, www.army.mod.uk/ aishqni/operations/military_operations/index.htm. 88 ACC Interview. 89 Ian Kerr Interview. 90 Special Branch Sergeant (Retd.) interview, 3 December 2002. 91 Smith, pp. 143–168. 92 See Neumann, pp. 56–58.

15 Conclusion James J.F. Forest

On 27 March 2007, Republicans and Unionists – led by Gerry Adams and Ian Paisley – agreed to an historic power-sharing arrangement, agreeing to form a join executive on 8 May to run the Northern Ireland province. Amid the proclamations by the many political leaders involved in these events, some observers will no doubt look past the history of the conflict, focusing instead on what seems to be a bright future. However, Northern Ireland has the unfortunately distinctive experience of grappling with political violence for over 35 years, and thus as demonstrated by the chapters in this volume, there is much that can be learned from this history that can be usefully applied to the study of – and strategies to combat – terrorism and insurgency around the world. This concluding chapter will examine six general observations drawn from these chapters, with the intent of fostering new discussion and research. 1

2

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Understanding and addressing the contextual issues that enable political violence – that is, the social, historical, political, cultural and other environmental factors – is critical for successfully countering insurgencies and terrorist groups. Indeed, British government policies that ignored the key dynamics of the political violence, opting instead for quick-fix and legal remedies (such as outlawing discrimination yet maintaining the structural causes of it) produced constraints and challenges to local authorities in responding to the paramilitaries in Northern Ireland. There are significant challenges and vulnerabilities that the paramilitaries in Northern Ireland have had to contend with (including operational security, tactical control over violence, preference divergence over strategic direction, the need to maintain support and financial efficiency, etc.). We must learn from their successes and failures in mitigating these vulnerabilities, in order to develop new approaches to combating similar types of politically violent organisations. Organisational learning is increasingly common among terrorists and other violent non-state actors. Perhaps by necessity, they monitor their environment regularly, seeking opportunities and possible vulnerabilities among their government adversaries, and simultaneously they analyse their own successes and failures (as well as those of other violent groups). All this

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information gathering and analysis leads to new knowledge and innovation, which is then incorporated into the group’s strategies and tactics. To succeed in achieving their strategic objectives, violent non-state actors (such as paramilitaries and insurgents) must be pragmatic and rational when engaging in the political arena. In Northern Ireland, as James Dingley notes, the paramilitary’s strategy of the ‘armalite and the ballot box’ represents a careful and judicious use of violence to blend in with and support political objectives.1 Combating violent non-state actors is therefore more than just a police and intelligence force responsibility; rather, it requires the engagement of all elements of national power, and needs to eliminate the falsely perceived separation between the military and the political aspects of a violent non-state actor like the IRA. Violent non-state actors have historically had limited success in achieving their strategic objectives, but government responses can enable them to be more successful than originally warranted. Indeed, the government’s initial response to the paramilitaries was not as nimble or flexible as required, and new working relationships were needed at all levels between the police and army (e.g. the operators/agent handlers on the ground, the middle managers in the regions and the senior managers at headquarters), along with the establishment of the RUC Special Branch, in order for the development of an effective intelligence gathering and analysis effort. Further, while the government’s focus on the domestic law enforcement and intelligence dimensions of counter-terrorism took primacy, the resolution of the conflict required a greater commitment and policies to combat the paramilitaries’ narratives and create the conditions for working things out politically. Finally, the chapters in this volume demonstrate how our understanding of terrorism and counter-terrorism requires a multidisciplinary and comparative approach. Political violence cannot be seen as the exclusive domain of criminal justice, sociology, political science, psychology, etc. but rather transcending all of these academic disciplines, as well as others.

There are certainly many other observations and implications one could glean from the chapters in this volume. The overall goal in this concluding chapter is simply to reemphasise themes that appear to resonate in other arenas of terrorist and insurgent conflict, suggest implications for counter-terrorism policy and actions, and focus our thinking and research in new directions.

Context is critical As the chapters of this volume illustrate, there are certain conditions that allow ideologies of violence to resonate in a particular community. For example, within any given political environment, members of a society have expectations, demands, aspirations and grievances. The degree to which there are opportunities and power to address these without the use of violence is a major determinant of terrorist group formation. Local chaos (for example, in a weak or failing

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state) can also create an opportunity for an ideology of political violence to resonate. Unemployment, significant ethnic fissures and animosities, sociodemographic pressures, and political regimes that are viewed as overly repressive, authoritarian, corrupt and incompetent all contribute to an environment in which a violent ideology can appeal to a broad audience. Entrenched grievances – such as corruption, injustice, and fear – often lead to anger, humiliation, and a sense of powerlessness among such communities that can be used to rationalise violent action. As described in several chapters of this volume, the slow pace of real and sustained economic, social, and political reforms in many Catholic communities of Northern Ireland was in some part responsible for fuelling a pervasive anti-British sentiment among many Catholics, which was then used by some as a justification for supporting political violence. Historically, the poorest populations in Northern Ireland have been found in the Catholic neighbourhoods. Distrust and dislike between Catholic Nationalists and Protestant Unionists led to mutual segregation, exclusion and discrimination. Other major socio-economic and political divisions throughout Northern Ireland have involved religion, language, education, sports, living areas, and unemployment – all of them contributing to an environment that enabled the paramilitaries to sustain themselves and their ideological rationale for violence. The ideology of the Republican paramilitaries asserted that things would be better in a united Ireland (that is, a Catholic Ireland), a vision of the future that was therefore worth fighting and killing others to achieve. Of course, an ideology does not have to be based on fact to be believed; it merely needs to be communicated effectively and persuasively within a favourable cultural, socio-economic, and political environment which can enable ideological resonance. It is the way in which people react to their environment that enables acts of violence. According to Dingley’s analysis, violence may well have been an end in itself for many Republicans – for them, the violence was used as an expression and emotional outlet for frustrated feelings and aspirations that could not be met (so they believed) through reason and material conditions.2 But violence can also enable some people to gain status and prestige in their own communities and later outside of them, if they are successful. Further, in the case of Northern Ireland, paramilitaries also frequently served as the local law enforcement of choice for many communities, and some – like the IRA – provided other social services as well. For example, they arranged their own court and criminal justice system along with policing, trying and dealing with ‘offenders’ via a range of warnings and punishments up to and including beatings, knee-cappings, expulsions and even executions. Direct Action Against Drugs was one of their front organisations for dealing with unlicensed (by them) drug dealers. Further, Sinn Féin established a collection of ‘Advice Centres’ to deal with a range of local concerns, from social security claims, welfare rights, and public services (like policing Catholic neighbourhoods) to dealing with joy-riders and other anti-social behaviour. This they did with great efficiency and ruthlessness, providing excellent advice on welfare and social security rights and how to claim them.3

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In this way, Republicans provided services to their communities and also an alternative government system to replace the state and its security forces. Internal control was managed not just by fear and coercion but by responding directly to local concerns and providing services. Even if they were often responding to problems they had been instrumental in creating, they were seen to be active in meeting community needs, particularly when the formal forces of the state were unable to (though often as a result of Republican prevention). So they slowly changed their image from simple men of violence to community activists and representatives, combining both in an increasingly sophisticated manner. In this manner, the provision of social services allowed the paramilitaries to gain an additional amount of legitimacy that they would have otherwise been denied. Overall, understanding the forces and dynamics that enable political violence is critical for successfully countering insurgencies and terrorist groups. The ethnic Nationalist roots of this conflict are mirrored elsewhere in the world, including Sri Lanka, Chechnya, Turkey, the Basque region of Spain or the former Yugoslavia, all of which have seen terrorist movements of similar origins and strategic objectives (including the LTTE, ETA, and the PKK, for example). Failure to address the ethnic Nationalist roots of political violence has often been at the heart of failing to resolve such conflicts either at the military or political level. As Dingley notes, government policies that ignored the key dynamics of the political violence, opting instead for quick-fix and legal remedies (such as outlawing discrimination yet maintaining the structural causes of it), produced constraints and challenges to local authorities in responding to the paramilitaries in Northern Ireland. Thus, the ‘troubles’ reveal the critical importance of understanding and addressing the contextual issues that enable political violence – that is, the social, historical, political, cultural and other environmental factors – before successfully countering insurgencies and terrorist groups.4 Understanding these contextual issues is also important for identifying the vulnerabilities of politically violent groups.

Paramilitaries and terrorists have vulnerabilities that can be exploited All organisations involved in clandestine activities, including criminals and terrorists, face similar challenges. They require a level of operational security that facilitates meaningful transactions of information and finance, and must maintain situational awareness, control the use of violence to achieve specified political ends, and of course, prevent the authorities from degrading the group’s capabilities. Indeed, members of such organisations are constantly worried about the possibility of spies within the organisation, and they spend a great deal of energy trying to out-think and out-wit intelligence agencies and law enforcement personnel. As Allison notes in his chapter, surveillance operations in Northern Ireland had a devastating effect on the PIRA’s ability to mount operations. PIRA members became increasingly

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J.J.F. Forest paranoid and could never afford to drop their guard. If any member of a PIRA bombing team were thought to be under surveillance, an operation would often be cancelled at the last minute.5

Criminal and terrorist networks also face problems common to other types of organisations, including private firms, political parties, social movements, and traditional insurgencies.6 For example, political and ideological leaders – the principals – must delegate certain duties to middlemen or low-level operatives, their agents. However, a network’s members have different preferences (based on personal experiences, perceptions, prejudices, etc.) which impact on how they behave in certain situations. Because of these differences in personal preferences, as well as the need to maintain operational secrecy, terrorist group leaders cannot perfectly monitor what their agents are doing. Thus, by impacting the level of trust (or expectations of shared effort among a network’s members toward a common goal), preference divergence creates operational challenges which can be exploited to degrade a terrorist group’s capabilities. In essence, clandestine organisations face at least two fundamental tradeoffs. The first is between operational security and tactical control. Here problems of trust and control – agency problems – and other group dynamics lead to counterproductive violence. The second trade-off is between operational security and transaction integrity. Here agency problems create inefficiencies in resource allocations and suspicion of corruption. Strategies to mitigate these problems through greater control entail security costs for groups, because when leaders are forced to intervene more directly in the affairs of their subordinates, they expose themselves to intelligence gathering. As described in several chapters of this volume, the paramilitaries in Northern Ireland were not immune to these agency problems, particular with regard to controlling violence. For example, James Dingley notes how the initial Republican strategy scaled back the violence to carefully targeted attacks against what they defined as ‘legitimate targets’, mostly security force members but later including civilian contractors who worked for the security forces and economic targets.7 The reasoning was simple, he notes – indiscriminate violence alienated large sections of the local and international audience, it was bad public relations and hindered efforts at fund-raising at home and abroad (to continue their campaign was expensive). ‘Legitimate targets’ could be rationalised and put in to the context of conventional war, thus helping to cast themselves as soldiers fighting a war (rather than being perceived as terrorists). The need for the paramilitaries in Northern Ireland to control the use of violence was a particular challenge in a context with so many different armed groups, loosely aligned ideologically but not necessarily at the operational level. Among the Irish Republicans, preference divergence over the original group’s strategic direction and the use of violence were significant causes of these splinter groups. Both the Continuity IRA (which formed in the 1980s) and the comparatively more violent Real IRA (which formed after the Provisional IRA’s decision to enter talks in the 1990s) took large numbers of very dissatisfied

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PIRA members with them, many of whom brought good logistical and training backgrounds and access to PIRA arms and explosives to these splinter groups. Both were violently opposed to the ‘peace process’, and were responsible for attacks in Northern Irish towns throughout the 1980s and 1990s. But in 1998, a particularly horrific bombing by the Real IRA had a marked impact on all groups associated with the Republican cause. On August 15 1998, a car bomb packed with 500lbs of explosives detonated in the popular shopping district of Omagh, a small town in county Tyrone, Northern Ireland (about 70 miles west of Belfast).8 The entire front wall of SD Kells clothes shop was blasted into the building, and the roof collapsed onto the top floor. At the Pine Emporium, a furniture shop, the blast was such that furniture could later be seen sticking out the windows at the back of the building. A water main under the road was exposed by the blast, and this began pouring gallons of water over the wreckage, washing bodies down the hill. All in all, 28 people were killed by the blast, and hundreds more were injured. The attack was universally criticised, both locally and internationally, and had a significant impact on paramilitary recruitment, financial support, and morale. It also provided new opportunities for security forces to recruit informants who have helped ensure that to date, no Republican group has successfully conducted another attack of this scale. Meanwhile, the Loyalists were responsible for the first terrorist attacks (during the 1960s) and also some of the worst atrocities of the entire conflict. In addition to several brutal murders of Catholics, they conducted several bombing attacks in the hope that they would be accredited to the IRA. As Dingley notes, their aim was to stir up fear and panic in order to galvanise Unionists to see a perceived threat and to mobilise against it. They wanted to ensure the status quo of the Union was maintained. However, their tactics helped launch a Catholic revolt that rapidly got out of hand and developed into a real armed terrorist insurrection. As this grew in ferocity, an unprepared state found it difficult to respond effectively. Thus, the Loyalist paramilitaries also learned important lessons about the need to control the use of violence. As the violence/counterviolence problem spiralled out of hand, achieving the strategic objectives of either the Unionists or the Republicans became increasingly unlikely. As several of the chapters in this volume illustrate, splinter groups create problems of perception and support for the original group, and this impacts their ability to maintain support and financial efficiency. Thus, while the IRA (and then the PIRA) sought to avoid counterproductive violence, their limited success managing the danger of splinter groups had serious consequences for the longterm outcomes of their movement. And yet, by most accounts the government did very little to identify and exploit the agency problems faced by the IRA. We must learn from the IRA’s successes and failures in mitigating the tactical control and operational security challenges they faced, in order to develop new approaches to combating similar organisations in the future. The intelligence community plays a critical role in this effort, but there is also much which politicians and the academic community can contribute as well.

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In addition to the challenges of counterproductive violence, criminal rackets also expose potential vulnerabilities for paramilitary and terrorist organisations. Money is a centrifugal force which brings criminals and terrorists together, often engaged in activities which generate billions in annual profits. Narcotics smuggling is the most common and profitable, although there is also a great deal of money to be made in smuggling people, cars, boats, diamonds, DVDs, cigarettes, and other commodities. The global arms trade, especially to/from conflict zones, is a vibrant source of revenues, as is trading drugs or other commodities for weapons. Criminal networks profit enormously from the provision of illicit services like document forgery, prostitution or money laundering, which provides a critical bridge between licit and illicit economies. However, transnational criminal organisations are businesses; terrorist attacks linked to their involvement could have a negative impact on their profit streams, and thus mafia leaders are understandably wary of partnering with ideologically-driven extremists. Criminal organisations may be easier than terrorist groups to penetrate with human intelligence resources, thus exposing paramilitaries who partner with such groups to potential infiltration vulnerabilities. Amplifying a clandestine network’s concern about infiltration forces them to spend more time on screening new members, leaving less time for other activities. Similarly, the public supporters of the IRA and its splinter groups have historically shown less tolerance for blatantly criminal behaviour. The lesson for us here is that influencing the ‘street perception’ of an organisation is a powerful component of an overall counter-terrorism strategy – the infamous ‘Cook Report’, which exposed the UDA for the extortionist thugs they were, is a prime example of this. Overall, successful counter-terrorism requires a comprehensive understanding of one’s adversary and their vulnerabilities, and a willingness to exploit those vulnerabilities through any overt or covert means available.

Terrorist groups can be learning organisations The primary objective of using violent means toward achieving a strategic objective contributed to innovations and an increasing sophistication with regard to bomb-making and other forms of violence. As RAND terrorism analyst Brian Jackson describes, ‘Applying tactics ranging from selective assassination to large-scale bombing operations, the group had to build expertise in a wide range of subject areas to maintain its desired level of military capability.’9 For example, between 1981 and 1991 the PIRA learned to use rocket-propelled grenades (RPGs) – and even developed their own improvised versions of commercial systems – with increasing lethality.10 When the group began using RPGs, the result did not always achieve the intended objective. In some cases, the rocket malfunctioned, hit the wrong target, and/or killed innocent civilians. However, over time the PIRA developed new weapons of this type as well as an improved capacity to use them, resulting in greater organisational effectiveness.

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In the early years of the ‘troubles’, as detailed in Allison’s chapter of this volume, the PIRA lost bomb-makers and bomb-layers to premature explosions caused by poor workmanship or untested designs.11Consequently, they decided to loosely centralise bomb development and manufacturing operations. At the same time, as others have noted, the paramilitaries also ensured that crosstraining among cells within a group would provide a mechanism for knowledge diffusion throughout an organisation.12 Allison’s description of the paramilitaries’ technical evolution demonstrates the often-overlooked organisational learning capacity of violent non-state actors. The term ‘learning organisation’ describes an organisation that, through purposefully applying its resources toward the acquisition of knowledge about itself and its environment, is continually expanding its capacity to meet present and future challenges with increasing sophistication and success.13 Attributes of a learning organisation include the ability to identify knowledge useful to its long-term success, and incorporate that knowledge into the operations and future plans of the organisation. In doing so, they create for themselves a competitive advantage, in that learning allows it to adapt to an increasingly fluid environment faster and more effectively than other organisations.14 Organisational learning is crucial to the success of both paramilitaries and the governments that seek to counter their violent activities. Nimble, flexible responses by a government’s security professionals’ is critical, especially in keeping up with weapons and tactical innovations.15 The RUC’s Special Branch developed new capacities, and the terrorists developed new capacities, and vice versa. Every time the PIRA (the main threat to peace) developed a new form of attack, the police and army would negate it. Every time the police and army developed the capacity to penetrate the PIRA, they would develop ways around it. Through their organisational learning efforts, the IRA and PIRA evolved into sophisticated, well-funded and highly effective terrorist organisations. As a result of this increasing operational sophistication, the conflict in Northern Ireland has in some ways contributed to conflicts in other parts of the world. For example, many of the weapons, tactics and strategies that have become commonplace in contemporary international terrorism were first conceived in the Province, and there is a history of knowledge transfer from this theatre of conflict to many others, including Colombia, the Middle East, and the Basque regions of Spain and France.16 In some ways, the improvised explosive devices (IEDs) that have become ubiquitous in the daily violence of Iraq and Afghanistan are hereditary products of the conflict in Northern Ireland. From innovations in trigger switches and other design aspects to lessons learned in the successful (and unsuccessful) deployment of such weapons, the paramilitaries contributed to a knowledge base among violent non-state actors (including insurgents and criminals) that cannot be discounted. In sum, the conflict in Northern Ireland is known for many technical and tactical innovations, and demonstrates the important organisational learning nature of today’s most sophisticated armed groups.

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We must recognise and address the political strategies of terrorism While intelligence and security forces play a major role in combating terrorism, a government’s ability to exploit the vulnerabilities of these groups is strongest in the political arena. Indeed, throughout its many decades, the conflict in Northern Ireland has been a battle for hearts and minds between many disparate players: IRA and other Republican groups; Unionists; the British; and most recently the newly evolving Northern Ireland political leaders. Of course, this is not to say that the paramilitaries were quick to embrace the non-kinetic aspects of their struggle. Indeed, on a tactical level, the paramilitaries demonstrated both a strong commitment and a considerable aptitude for violence. Most were very effective in causing damage, casualties, and communal fear. Violence, to paraphrase Karl von Clausewitz, can be seen as politics by another means. Indeed, as Richard observes in his chapter, one of the objectives of IRA violence was to bomb their way to the negotiating table.17 This is often an objective for many terrorist groups, though many others have no intention whatsoever of negotiating, but rather, intend to use violence as a means for the wholesale destruction of a government or social order. After providing a detailed account of the paramilitaries’ technical and tactical successes, Allison concludes his chapter with a revealing observation: PIRA continued to carry out strategic bombing operations on the UK mainland and tactical operations against the security forces in Northern Ireland right up until its ceasefire in 1997. However, those individuals driving PIRA bombing operations eventually realised that the British could not be defeated militarily and could not be bombed out of Northern Ireland, . . . thus revealing the critical nature of a political solution to this conflict.18 Indeed, as Dingley notes, the paramilitaries’ original strategy was to bomb and shoot the ‘Brits out’, but they eventually realised that violence by itself was getting them only limited returns. While security forces were learning how to counter their violence with increasing sophistication and success, the violence failed to achieve its intended effect of destroying the Unionist resolve. Of course, PIRA attacks and the often heavy-handed security force responses in Catholic/Republican areas were of great benefit in hardening Catholic community solidarity, which aided in the recruiting efforts of the PIRA and in gaining international sympathy when reported in the media. But in the end, Republican violence was getting them nowhere in terms of their ultimate political objectives. Indeed, Dingley notes, the group found themselves at an impasse and began to realise the need for a broader and more political strategy to accompany the violence.19 Components of this political strategy included the provision of social services, a growing emphasis on community work and increasing involvement in political representation. At first, Republicans did not stand for elections, perhaps

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concerned that this would validate a constitutional political process they felt had no legitimacy. However, as described earlier in this chapter, the provision of social services allowed the paramilitaries to gain an additional amount of political legitimacy throughout many communities that they would have otherwise been denied. In essence, the PIRA learned a lesson that its contemporaries have also had to learn: in order to succeed in achieving their strategic objectives, violent non-state actors (such as paramilitaries and insurgents) must be pragmatic and rational when engaging in the political arena. In essence, according to Dingley, the strategy of the ‘armalite and the ballot box’ came to fruition through a careful and judicious use of violence to blend in with and support political objectives. From this perspective, it is inherently misguided for policymakers, security professionals or academics to separate the military and the political aspects of a violent non-state actor like the IRA. Indeed, while groups like Hamas, Hizballah, IRA, ETA and so forth may have a so-called the political wing, these entities serve mainly to provide top cover for what ordinary observers would call murder for political reasons. Further, the perception that this artificial separation produces allows some groups to operate (collecting money, recruits, etc.) with seeming impunity. For example, as described in several chapters of this volume, the sponsorship of Sinn Féin by the United States, the Irish Republic and the UK amidst the threat of IRA violence meant that Republican aspirations, and even the means it used, were given a degree of legitimacy. And yet, as Andrew Silke maintains, Sinn Féin was intimately involved in ‘every aspect’ of the violence.20 Further, as Richard describes in his chapter, the IRA’s political front has largely been under the direct control of the Army Council. He notes, the discipline and centralised nature of the IRA is replicated in the strict control that the IRA leadership has exerted over its political front. This has been managed by the dual membership that has existed between the organisation and its political front at leadership level.21 Further, he notes, Sinn Féin was actually a tightly controlled instrument of the IRA leadership and its role as a political front has therefore been decided and delegated according to the tactical demands of the movement at the time. The IRA’s powerful ideology and tight organisational structure has instilled loyalty and discipline in the ranks and the same has gone for Sinn Féin in its deference and loyalty to the group’s leadership. The folly of imposing a false separation between the military and political aspects of terrorism is unfortunately not unique to the case of Northern Ireland. For example, due to the notion that Hamas has independent ‘wings’, its political and charitable fronts are allowed to operate openly in many European and Middle Eastern capitals. In these cities, Hamas dawa – ostensibly a charitable,

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non-political, non-military network of social service organisations – are given free passes for their support of terror simply because they also provide critical humanitarian support. This allows Hamas to conduct a fairly wide range of support activities such as funding terrorist operations; laundering and transferring funds to terrorists via charitable and religious fronts; recruiting, employing and hiding Hamas militants; providing essential administrative support to terrorist cells; and engendering popular Palestinian (and broader Muslim) support for terrorism. In fact, as described in a recent book by Matt Levitt – a former US Treasury Department official and a resident fellow at the Washington Institute for Near East Studies – Hamas’ political and military efforts have always been intertwined.22 Levitt explains how Hamas grant making is largely determined by a cold cost-benefit analysis that links the amount of aid awarded to the extent of support that aid will buy. Individuals tied to Hamas receive more assistance than those unaffiliated with the organisation, while members linked to terrorist activity receive even more. Similarly, the case of the IRA illustrates how a terror group’s social services and political activities can directly enable and amplify its terrorist activities. This suggests that without the veil of legitimacy these political fronts provide their militant counterparts, violent non-state actors like the IRA and Hamas would be significantly easier to confront, undermine, and destroy. Instead, Sinn Féin is ostensibly now the driver of the Irish Republican effort; Hamas recently defeated its secular rival in parliamentary elections; and the political swagger of Hizbollah in Lebanon has only grown stronger from the Israeli conflict during the summer of 2006. In each case, groups responsible for the deaths of thousands and many forms of violence have managed to achieve political objectives through the combined approach of violence and politics. In Northern Ireland, the ceasefire has dealt almost exclusively with the military aspects of the conflict, leaving many key political issues unresolved. Surely, any effort at bringing about a political settlement needs to ensure the complete demobilisation of all paramilitary groups, but true and lasting peace will require new and creative political strategies. According to Dingley, Republicans have only ‘stood down’ their armed wing, but continue to maintain their organisational potential and refuse to admit their past wrongs and so can continue to destabilise society and the state from a distance. Republicans are still committed to their fundamentally anti-state politics and can destabilise the state by obstructive politics almost as well as by terrorism. Further, as Peter Neumann observes in his chapter, the paramilitaries in Northern Ireland are currently contributing to the distortion of the political process. This is not only true for the paramilitary groups that are still engaged in active military campaigns, but also for those that have declared ceasefires and are ‘only’ involved in low-level violence, such as the PIRA. The implicit threat of a return to full-scale military campaigns, as well as their role in paramilitary policing and criminal activities, have destabilised the entire political framework and therefore made the implementation of the Belfast Agreement more difficult.

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The political nature of the conflict in Northern Ireland thus illustrates how combating terrorism requires a government to engage all the elements of national power (diplomacy, information, military, economic, financial, intelligence, and law enforcement). From this perspective, it becomes clear that combating violent groups is not the exclusive responsibility of a government’s security and intelligence agencies, as they are never known for their prowess in diplomacy or policymaking. In terms of diplomacy, combating a domestic terror group like the IRA or PIRA may require significant international assistance. The paramilitaries were seen by some as a domestic law enforcement problem, but their activities had clear international dimensions in terms of demonstrative effects (terror tactics get worldwide attention), knowledge transfer (politically violent groups in other parts of the world began to emulate similar tactics) and financial support (including the United States). The battle for hearts and minds, described earlier, is also one that cannot be won exclusively by kinetic force (that is, military or law enforcement activities). As terrorism scholar Yonah Alexander observes, military attacks and police raids against supposed terrorists are crucial, but so is freezing the financial assets of individuals believed to be connected to the terrorists, arranging for training in counter-terrorism practices, and rallying international support.23 Politically, some governments have responded to the terror threat by seeking political means of conciliation to resolve underlying issues, in an effort to undermine popular support for terrorist acts. Another response has been widespread repression, not only of terrorists but of innocent civilians as well. But overall, recognising and responding to the political dimension of the violence wrought by groups such as the paramilitaries in Northern Ireland is a necessary first step toward developing comprehensive solutions to undermining their support networks and eventually defeating them. Unfortunately, the government was somewhat slow to recognise this and respond accordingly with policies and resources.

Governments can inadvertently enable some success for terrorists and insurgents Violent non-state actors have historically had limited success in achieving their strategic objectives, but government responses can enable them to be more successful than originally warranted. For example, a recent study of West Germany’s Red Army Faction (RAF, a.k.a. the Baader Meinhof Gang) by Joanne Wright illustrated that whatever sympathy terrorist groups manage to generate among national and international audiences is largely derived from government responses to terrorism. She suggests that the RAF was able to generate some degree of success and attach some degree of credibility to its analysis of a repressive state in three areas: security force behaviour, prisoners and prison conditions, and legislative changes.24 As reflected in several chapters of this volume, government efforts to counter-terrorism and insurgency are constrained by the requirements of law and by the potential impact on the public perception of their actions. Terrorists target state legitimacy, and a government’s response

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to terrorism must be conducted in a manner that does not violate the public’s view toward justice, human rights, the rule of law and civil liberties.25 As many terrorism experts have argued, it is a common assumption that when confronting terrorism it is the terrorists who pose the greatest threat to the underlying principles and freedoms that are enshrined in liberal democracies. However, in instances where the state fails to ensure that its response to terrorism is limited, well-defined and controlled, it is likely that institutionalised counter-terrorist policies will pose an even greater threat to the political and civil traditions that are central to the liberal democratic way of life. For example, research by RAND scholar Peter Chalk highlights three cases when counterterrorism policies initiated by liberal democracies came dangerously close to transplanting subversive terror from ‘below’ with institutionalised terror from ‘above’: the ‘strategy of tension’ initiated in Italy between 1969 and 1974; the Spanish ‘dirty war’ against ETA between 1983 and 1987; and the abandonment of democratic rule in Peru between 1992 and 1996. From his analysis, he concluded that ultimately the effectiveness of the liberal democratic state’s response to terrorism depends on its acceptability.26 Terrorism expert Jennifer Holmes furthered this argument with her recent analysis of the tension between an aggressive, pre-emptive investigative response to terrorism and a response that restricts government activity in order to safeguard individual liberties. She argues that the state needs to be strong enough to have a functioning judicial system, discourage the emergence of violence, mount a vigorous defence, and maintain citizen support. However, good intelligence, effective coordination, and a competent police and judiciary cannot alone squash internal terrorism with a significant domestic source of support. As described earlier in this chapter, the political realm of the conflict is extremely important. Moreover, being responsive to understandable grievances may increase the government’s popular support and decrease overt and tacit support for terrorists.27 External pressure can also play a significant role in how governments respond to political violence and terrorism. In this case, as Paul Wilkinson describes in his chapter, Irish Americans and US political leaders had a significant influence on the Northern Ireland peace process. However, Wilkinson also concludes that while external pressure stimulated and encouraged the peace process, it was only successful because ‘the internal conditions of the mid-1990s’ enabled the leaders of the IRA and the British government to finally engage in this process.28 Further, he notes, the fundamental precondition for the peace process was the readiness of the Republican movement . . . to suspend its campaign of violence and to adopt a purely political pathway to see if they could achieve key Republican goals by such means.29 The degree to which the government encouraged and facilitated a political solution for the Republican movement had a considerable impact on the eventual

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resolution of the conflict. Christopher Bass and M.L.R. Smith also highlight in their chapter the critical policy decision of the British government to pursue ‘confidence-building measures’, which seek to address and compromise upon areas of tension such as equal opportunities, policing, the administration of justice, decommissioning of paramilitary weapons, and the normalisation of security arrangements.30 Political will, they argue, can only be secured properly if both sides feel that satisfactory progress is being made with regard to their respective political goals and agendas. A power-sharing system of governance, which includes fulfilment of the confidence-building measures embracing those who wish to pursue democratic means, is therefore a primary political objective of the modern peace process.31 Terrorism produces significant media coverage of the attack and of the government’s response; thus, if the government responds in a manner that is either repressive or ineffective, this can generate more attention and possible sympathies for the terrorist group. For example, when the authorities of Northern Ireland established a policy of internment without trial in the early 1970s, it had a very negative impact on perceptions toward the government. As Rogelio Olonso observes, many of the hundreds who were denied their freedom through this counter-terrorism measure actually had nothing to do with the IRA, since the security forces were acting on outdated information. In one case, the British Army were sent to arrest a man in the small country village of Lurgan, and were surprised to find that their alleged suspect was 94 years of age.32 Other controversial tactics were originally employed by the security forces, but later abandoned. For example, techniques used in lengthy interrogation sessions – such as sleep deprivation, noise and other activities to promote discomfort and disorientation – were ruled to be illegal in 1976 by the European Commission of Human Rights. This is not to suggest that the government did not do a good number of things well in confronting the paramilitaries. Indeed, the security forces performed well and largely contained the terrorist threat and certainly created a situation in which the terrorists wanted to call off their campaign. The government was particularly successful at developing a robust intelligence gathering network which led to a high-level of paramilitary infiltration and aborted operations. Much of the government’s success was realised through local relationships and surveillance capacity-building efforts, combined with a quick reaction force that would conduct arrests and house assaults and bring the terrorists in. As Allison notes in his chapter, local patrols were essential – particularly in the urban environment – for inspiring confidence amongst the local populace and to encourage the flow of information.33 These patrols would maintain close radio contact with other patrols moving down parallel roads at the same time, while a mobile patrol in the form of a Quick Reaction Force or Air Reaction Force would maintain a ‘listening watch’ back in a base location, in case foot patrols were engaged.

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The government also established the RUC’s Special Branch, which led the overall effort of gathering, recording, collating/integrating, analysing, assessing, disseminating and, finally, exploiting intelligence. The Special Branch was almost solely concerned with recruiting informants, who were known as ‘causal contacts’ until such time as they achieved agent status – i.e. when it had been proven that they had access to good quality information and could be put under a measure of control. The key to intelligence during the ‘troubles’ was to have uniformed police and army on the ground continually asking questions and walking down the street using their eyes – e.g. noting people and car registrations. All major police stations, and even many minor police stations, had Special Branch officers in order to ‘keep a foot on the ground’, though, crucially, the identity of informants and agents was kept secure within Special Branch. Military intelligence officers were also engaged in the effort at various times. The moving parts of this effort required a great deal of communication and cooperation, and to their credit good working relationships were maintained at all levels between the police and army throughout the conflict. However, despite its successes in the law enforcement and intelligence arenas, the government had to learn new strategies for navigating the political and perceptual battlespace. In some cases, the public statements of the government (and the media) appeared to have a primary objective of dehumanising members of the Republican movement, but this actually helped drive some individuals into the arms of the paramilitaries by excluding (or being seen to exclude) the Republican viewpoint on anything. The tragic events of November 1972, which came to be known as Bloody Sunday, led to a considerable surge of support and recruitment for the IRA. They were suddenly viewed by many in Northern Ireland and in other countries as legitimate defenders of the Catholic communities. This led to a cycle of action-repression-reaction in Northern Ireland – similar to that which we have seen between the Israeli security forces and terrorist groups in the Palestinian Territories – which produced an escalation of violence during the first half of the 1970s. Thus, in Northern Ireland, the paramilitaries and the government fought each other for perceptions of justice, fairness, and rightness. However, this was the government’s fight to lose, because in contrast to the IRA, the security forces were not targeting civilians. By repeated killings of children and other noncombatants – including Catholics – the IRA and its splinter groups were seen as less just than the government, thus consistently undermining its own hopes for broader support. Of course, at various points in the history of the conflict, people were somewhat sympathetic to the Irish liberation struggle – particularly when viewed through the lens of independence struggles elsewhere in the world during that time period, particularly in Africa and Asia – but there was very little support for the means and tactics employed by the IRA and its splinter groups. As Peter Neumann described in his chapter, the government successfully protected itself against the political fallout from the conflict, and it brought down its intensity to a level at which the posture could have been sustained almost indefinitely.34 This, however, happened only after London had learned from its

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own, fundamentally flawed strategy in the 1969–1972 period. Back then, hoping that the inequitable structures of the Stormont regime could somehow be stabilised, the British government had actually made the situation worse, contributed to the rise of the terrorist challenge and damaged its own credibility in the eyes of the Catholic as well as those of the rest of the world. Not abolishing Stormont at a time when Britain still enjoyed the goodwill of the Catholics and the IRA had been little more than a folk memory, that was the government’s original sin – one for which it paid dearly. The government’s early inattention (and slow response) to the political strategies of the paramilitaries weakened its ability to resolve the conflict much earlier. For their part, the paramilitaries wanted to gain the level of attention that would make the ‘Irish question’ a key issue for the main British political party platforms and debates. In contrast, according to Neumann’s analysis, the ultimate objective of British strategy was to restore a constitutional arrangement which allowed for the reduction of London’s political and military commitment to the province; an arrangement which ensured that this alien part of the country which – if not for a rather unfortunate accident of history – really belonged to the rest of Ireland, and whose culture and people were foreign to the ‘British way’, stopped interfering with the British body politic.35 Indeed, as Dingley notes in this volume, Northern Ireland was almost ignored by the central government in London since its inception in 1920. It was given its own internal government for all matters pertaining to the Province, none of the main UK parties (Labour, Liberal and Conservative) organised in the Province, until the Conservatives in the 1980s (even then only half-heartedly). People in Northern Ireland were even constitutionally barred from joining the Labour Party until the new millennium. And even now their numbers and organisation in the Province are minimal.36 This meant that when the ‘troubles’ became so severe that London had to take over (direct rule in 1972) none of the national parties of government had any knowledge or experience of the Province. They had no departments able to research and develop serious policy, let alone politicians from the Province. Consequently, the government has been hampered by a lack of knowledge as well as interest and commitment. This made them dependent on input and analysis from sources already identified as inadequate to pursue affairs they had no great interest in. This applies not just at party level but also at civil service level, since the Province had its own internal civil service that is still semi-autonomous even under direct rule. And before direct rule London involvement in the Province consisted of a single office in the Home Office in London. Thus perhaps one official alone in Great Britain had any knowledge of Northern Ireland. Lack of clear understanding of the problem, let alone clear sighted policy analysis and implementation was consequently always lacking. In sum, violence was clearly not an inevitable consequence of the sociopolitical fissures in Northern Ireland. There were alternatives and potential solutions that could have been explored, but were largely ignored, rejected or put on a slow, bureaucratic pace that served to only deepen the frustration among both

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the Unionists and Republicans. The government’s focus on the domestic law enforcement and intelligence dimensions of counter-terrorism took primacy, and for many years comparatively little was done to create the conditions for working things out politically. This is perhaps the most important lesson to draw from studying the history of the conflict in Northern Ireland.

Counterterrorism requires a multidisciplinary and comparative perspective From an academic perspective, the study of insurgency and terrorism has been well-informed by analyses of the conflict in Northern Ireland, while practitioners in the law enforcement, intelligence and military professions have already drawn many lessons from the successes and failures of counter-terrorism efforts throughout this long and bloody campaign. The strength of these comparative analyses is partially due the similarities of the security threat posed by terrorism worldwide. For example, as described earlier in this chapter, the socio-political factors that have sustained this conflict – including religion, identity politics, and an historical and community platform for the violence – are also features associated with long-running terrorist campaigns throughout the world. A comparative perspective helps us identify phenomena that, while framed by different political and social arrangements, lead to a better understanding of a complex world and our place within it. In the study of counter-terrorism and counter-insurgency, we are so often bound by the constraints of national thinking that a comparative perspective becomes especially valuable, because the security challenges facing the global community of responsible nations have many common characteristics. As a collection, the chapters of this volume illustrate the dimensions of political insurgency that are similar to other examples of political violence throughout the world, transcending the many differences in history, culture, and experience that occur among nations. Lessons learned in counter-terrorism policies and practices applied in the Northern Ireland conflict that thus offer valuable insights to those officials responsible for setting policy elsewhere. Case studies of conflicts like that of Northern Ireland help us recognise that the global threat of terrorism is not new, but rather, presents itself in new forms, partly due to the evolution of transportation and communications technologies. It is also important to explore the organisational strategies of terrorist groups and the individual motivations of their members, as well as specific dynamics such as recruitment, training, ideology, and communication. We must examine various facilitators of terrorism – such as transnational financial and criminal networks – as well as the local circumstances that support terrorism, including the political, economic and social conditions that existed before political violence erupted. These and other topics require deeper and more sustained analysis. The security challenges facing the global community of responsible nations have many common characteristics. For example, as discussed earlier in this chapter, the ethnic Nationalist roots of the conflict in Northern Ireland are

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mirrored elsewhere in the world, including Chechnya, Indonesia, the Philippines, Sri Lanka, Turkey, the Basque region of Spain or the former Yugoslavia. Comparative analysis helps us identify where there are similar origins and strategic objectives of terrorism, and is useful to policy analysts in forecasting new and emerging trouble spots around the world. Similarly, examining the failure of governments to address the ethnic Nationalist roots of political violence also sheds light on possible points of intervention for other conflicts of this nature. This chapter has also illustrated the organisational commonalities between the IRA, Hamas and Hizbollah, in terms of combining paramilitary violence with political representation and community services. Cases such as these, where a socio-political environment allows a violent non-state actor to gather momentum and support, inform contemporary counter-terrorism and counterinsurgency strategies in Iraq, Afghanistan, Chechnya, and elsewhere. In Iraq, for example, a small band of foreign fighters recently declared the establishment of the Islamic State of Iraq, ostensibly comprised of a large portion of al Anbar province, and are seeking to be recognised as the central political player and social service provider in this region. General David Petraeus and other US military leaders recognise that the longer this group is allowed to proceed in this manner, the more difficult it will be to drive them out of the province and fill the power vacuum with an established Iraqi government infrastructure, and thus are pursuing a multiple-track counterinsurgency strategy to address the security and political needs of the people in this province. The good news, though, is that local Sunni and Shia militants have grown increasingly hostile to Al Qaeda’s presence in their country, and are working (in a few instances, even in collaboration with Iraqi and coalition forces) to drive them out. In Afghanistan, the Taliban (and Al Qaeda) were originally embraced by a local population weary of civil war and chaos, and in some corners are still welcome by villagers sceptical of the central government’s capabilities and trustworthiness. These and other examples point to the critical issue of whether governments will respond to terrorism with purely kinetic force, or are willing to confront the environmental enablers behind political violence. This, in turn, brings us back to the first observation discussed in this chapter: context is critical.

Final thoughts Overall, the chapters of this volume illustrate how the conflict in Northern Ireland has always been a political one, requiring a political solution. As Dingley observes, the ‘troubles’ have primarily been about which nation-state Northern Ireland (the Province) should belong to – the UK or the Republic of Ireland. He notes that since the end of open hostilities and the signing of the Belfast Agreement of 1998, the two communities have become increasingly polarised, but recent events suggest that optimism is warranted. Independent international monitors have verified that the IRA has put a large quantity of its weapons permanently out of use, and the group has declared its intentions to

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pursue politics exclusively through peaceful means. Further, 90 per cent of Sinn Féin members agreed in January 2007 to support police and the courts in the province, overcoming a long standing perception throughout Republican communities that the police were a brutal, corrupt occupying force.37 The result of the March 2007 elections also give some reasons for optimism, although it is still the hardline parties – Sinn Féin and the Democratic Unionist Party – that continue to garner the most votes, while the more moderate Catholic and Protestant parties lose out. When this trend is reversed, and the political landscape is no longer dominated by the polarised ends of the spectrum, then optimism for the long-term peaceful future of Northern Ireland will certainly be warranted. At the end of the day, many lessons have been learned by both the paramilitaries and the security forces in Northern Ireland. One overall lesson stands out as particularly important: 35 years of violence did not help the paramilitaries achieve any of their core objectives. This is consistent with what we know generally about violent non-state actors: history shows that no group pursuing an agenda of political violence has ever triumphed in a wealthy, liberal democracy. They have rarely achieved much in non-democracies either. Overall, terrorist and insurgent groups have almost never succeeded in forcing a major change of policy upon their target governments or societies. This is particularly true in environments where political will and resilience are high. In the case of Northern Ireland, there was a temporary lapse of political will among the British authorities to deal with the problem with ample resources. However, the resilience of the government and public was never in question, and this had a direct impact on the eventual outcome of the conflict. The paramilitary groups in Northern Ireland obviously presented a considerable challenge to the authorities, but none of these groups ever came close to ‘defeating’ the security forces, or even to forcing a major change of policy upon the British government. Still, as Neumann points out in his chapter, these groups continue to provide a major source of instability in the ongoing power struggle in the province. The challenge for the newly formed joint administration will very much depend on whether the two main political rivals Gerry Adams and Ian Paisley – along with Britain’s Northern Ireland minister Shaun Woodward – can create an environment within which community support for the these groups is replaced with a new faith in the government’s ability to provide security, justice, and a better future.38 Monitoring future developments in Northern Ireland, and drawing lessons from the government’s successes and failures, will surely play a vital role in advancing the study of terrorism and insurgency, and in developing new strategies for combating violent non-state actors in general.

Acknowledgements The views expressed herein are those of the author and do not purport to reflect the position of the United States Military Academy, the Department of the Army, the Department of Defence, or the US government.

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Notes 1 See the chapter by James Dingley, ‘Northern Ireland and the “troubles” ’, in this volume. 2 See the chapter by James Dingley, ‘Terrorist Strategy and Tactics’, in this volume. 3 Ibid. 4 See the chapter by James Dingley, ‘Northern Ireland and the “troubles” ’, in this volume. 5 See the chapter by John Allison, ‘Terrorist Weapons and Technology’, in this volume. 6 I am indebted here to Jacob Shapiro and my colleagues at the Combating Terrorism Center, whose earlier work on preference divergence and agency theory has been instrumental in many ways. For more on this, please see our report (2006) Harmony and Disharmony: Exploiting Al-Qaida’s Organizational Vulnerabilities (West Point: Combating Terrorism Center), especially pages 11–24. 7 See the chapter by James Dingley, ‘Terrorist Strategy and Tactics’, in this volume. 8 A vivid, detailed account of this event is available online at: www.wesleyjohnston. com/users/ireland/past/omagh/main.html. Also, see the BBC news website, at http://news.bbc.co.uk. 9 Brian A. Jackson Training for Urban Resistance, 2005. 10 Brian A. Jackson, (2005) ‘Provisional Irish Republican Army’, in Aptitude for Destruction – Volume 2: Case Studies of Organizational Learning in Five Terrorist Groups, edited by Brian Jackson, John C. Baker, et al. (Santa Monica: Rand Corporation), pp.107–109. 11 See the chapter by John Allison, ‘Terrorist Weapons and Technology’, in this volume. 12 For more on this, please see James J.F. Forest, (2006) Teaching Terror (Rowman and Littlefield), especially chapters 1–3; and Brian A. Jackson (2005) Provisional Irish Republican Army, in Aptitude for Destruction – Volume 2: Case Studies of Organizational Learning in Five Terrorist Groups, edited by Brian A. Jackson, John C. Baker, et al. (Santa Monica: Rand Corporation), pp. 107–109. 13 Case Willoughby (2002) Learning Organizations in Higher Education in the United States: An Encyclopaedia, edited by James J.F. Forest and Kevin Kinser (Santa Barbara, CA: ABC-CLIO), p. 391. 14 Ibid., pp. 391–393. 15 For more on this, please see Michael Kenney (2007) From Pablo to Osama: Trafficking and Terrorist Networks, Government Bureaucracies, and competitive Adaptation (Pennsylvania State University Press); see also James Forest, Teaching Terror, especially chapters 1–3. 16 For example, see Adam Ward (2003) ‘The IRA’s Foreign Links: Externalising its Expertise?’ IISS Strategic Comments 9, no. 5; and ‘Colombians Search for Irish Trio’, BBC News (20 December 2004); and ‘Q&A: the Colombia Connection’, BBC News (16 December 2004). Online at http://news.bbc.co.uk. 17 See the chapter by Richards, ‘Terrorist Groups and their Political Fronts’, in this volume. 18 See the chapter by John Allison, ‘Terrorist Weapons and Technology’, in this volume. 19 Dingley, ‘Terrorist Strategy and Tactics’, in this volume. 20 Op. cit., Silke p. 71, in Richard chapter. 21 See the chapter by Richard, ‘Terrorist Groups and their Political Fronts’, in this volume. 22 Matthew Levitt (2006) Hamas: Politics, Charity, and Terrorism in the Service of Jihad (Yale University Press); See also, Matthew A. Levitt, (2005) ‘Hamas social welfare: in the service of terror’, in The Making of a Terrorist, Vol. 1: Recruitment,

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25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

J.J.F. Forest

edited by James J.F. Forest (Westport, CT: Praeger Security International); Matthew A. Levitt (2004) ‘Hamas from cradle to grave’, Middle East Quarterly (Winter); and Matthew A. Levitt, ‘Untangling the terror web: the need for a strategic understanding of the crossover between international terrorist groups to successfully prosecute the War on Terror, testimony before the Committee on Banking, Housing, and Urban Affairs, United State Senate’. Published by The Washington Institute for Near East Policy. Online at: www.senate.gov/~banking/_files/levitt.pdf. Yonah Alexander (2002) ‘Introduction’, in Combating Terrorism: Strategies of Ten Countries, edited by Yonah Alexander (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press), p. 13 Joanne Wright (2007) ‘Countering West Germany’s Red Army faction: what can we learn?’ in Countering Terrorism and Insurgency in the 21st Century: Vol. 3: Lessons Learned in the Fight Against Terror, edited by James J.F. Forest (Westport, CT: Praeger). See Cindy R. Jebb (2003) ‘The fight for legitimacy: Liberal Democracy versus terrorism’, The Journal of Conflict Studies, 23:1, pp. 126–154. Peter Chalk (1998) ‘The response to terrorism as a threat to liberal democracy’, Australian Journal of Politics and History, 44:3, pp. 373–388. Jennifer Holmes (2007) ‘Developing and implementing counterterrorism policy in a liberal democracy’, in Countering Terrorism in the 21st Century, Vol. 1: Strategic and Tactical Considerations, edited by James J.F. Forest (Westport, CT: Praeger). Please see the chapter by Paul Wilkinson in this volume. Please see the chapter by Paul Wilkinson in this volume. Michael von Tangen Page (2000) A Negative Peace: Northern Ireland and the Good Friday Agreement, Global Security Studies 2 (London: Centre for Defence Studies), p. 34. Please see the chapter by Christopher Bass and M.L.R. Smith in this volume. Rogelio Alonso (2007) The IRA and Armed Struggle (London: Routledge), p. 31. See the chapter by John Allison, ‘Terrorist Weapons and Technology’, in this volume. See the chapter by Peter R. Neumann, ‘The Government’s Response’, in this volume. See the chapter by Peter R. Neumann, ‘The Government’s Response’, in this volume. See the chapter by James Dingley, ‘Northern Ireland and the “troubles” ’, in this volume. Eamon Quinn (2007) ‘Sinn Féin endorses plan for Ulster police reforms’, New York Times (29 January). www.nytimes.com/2007/01/29/world/europe/29ulster.html. Eamon Quinn and Alan Cowell (2007) ‘Ulster factions agree to a plan for joint rule’, New York Times (27 March). www.nytimes.com/2007/03/27/world/europe/27irish.html

References Alexander, Yonah. (2002) Introduction, in Combating Terrorism: Strategies of Ten Countries, edited by Yonah Alexander (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press). Alonso, Rogelio. (2007) The IRA and Armed Struggle (London: Routledge). Chalk, Peter. (1998) The Response to Terrorism as a Threat to Liberal Democracy, Australian Journal of Politics and History, 44:3, pp. 373–388. Combating Terrorism Center. (2006) Harmony and Disharmony: Exploiting Al-Qaida’s Organizational Vulnerabilities (West Point, NY: United States Military Academy). Forest, James J.F. (2006) edition Teaching Terror: Strategic and Tactical Learning in the Terrorist World (Boulder, CO: Rowman & Littlefield). Holmes, Jennifer. (2007) Developing and Implementing Counterterrorism Policy in a Liberal Democracy, in Countering Terrorism in the 21st Century, Vol. 1: Strategic and Tactical Considerations, edited by James J.F. Forest (Westport, CT: Praeger).

Conclusion

301

Jackson, Brian A. (2005) Provisional Irish Republican Army, in Aptitude for Destruction – Volume 2: Case Studies of Organizational Learning in Five Terrorist Groups, edited by Brian Jackson, John C. Baker, et al. (Santa Monica: Rand Corporation). Jackson, Brian A. (2005) Training for Urban Resistance: The Case of the Provisional Irish Republican Army, in The Making of a Terrorist, Volume 2: Training, edited by James J.F. Forest (Westport, CT: Praeger). Jebb, Cindy R. (2003) The Fight for Legitimacy: Liberal Democracy Versus Terrorism, The Journal of Conflict Studies, 23:1, pp. 126–154. Kenney, Michael. (2007) From Pablo to Osama: Trafficking and Terrorist Networks, Government Bureaucracies, and competitive Adaptation (Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania State University Press). Levitt, Matthew A. (2006) Hamas: Politics, Charity, and Terrorism in the Service of Jihad (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press). Levitt, Matthew A. (2005) Hamas Social Welfare: In the Service of Terror, in The Making of a Terrorist, Vol. 1: Recruitment, edited by James J.F. Forest (Westport, CT: Praeger Security International). von Tangen Page, Michael. (2000) A Negative Peace: Northern Ireland and the Good Friday Agreement, Global Security Studies 2 (London: Centre for Defence Studies). Wright, Joanne. (2007) Countering West Germany’s Red Army Faction: What Can We Learn? in Countering Terrorism and Insurgency in the 21st Century: Vol. 3: Lessons Learned in the Fight Against Terror, edited by James J.F. Forest (Westport, CT: Praeger).

Index

14 Intelligence and Security Company 115 32 County Sovereignty Committee 44 action-repression-reaction cycle 294 active absentionism 41 active service units (ASUs), PIRA 67, 69, 183, 210 Adair, Johnny 96 Adams, Gerry 39, 41–2, 81, 83–4, 86, 87–8, 210, 235, 252–4, 270 aerial support, RUC 186 agency problems 284 Air Reaction Force (ARF) 120 airport bombings 110 Alexander, Yonah 291 Alliance 11 Allison, John 102–24, 283–4, 287, 288 Americans for a New Irish Agenda 251 ammonium nitrate and sugar (ANS) 103 Ammunition Technical Officers (ATOs) 205–6 Anglo-Irish Agreement (1985) 46, 67, 87, 142, 160, 238, 250–1 Anglo-Irish Treaty (1921) 247–8 Anglo-Irish war of independence 37 anti-handling switches 117 Anti-terrorism, Crime and Security Act (2001) 163–4 anti-terrorist legislation 163–5 appeasement (1998–2004) 150–2 ‘armalite and ballot box’ strategy 41, 68, 85, 210, 263, 281, 289 armed robbery 128–30 Armstrong, Billy 272 Army Council, IRA 80–1, 88 Ascendancy 21–2 Assets Recovery Agency 136, 193 attrition 274 Aughey, A. 88 balance, maintenance of 215 Ballymurphy riots (1970) 140 bargaining 272–3

Barr, Glen 91 Bass, Christopher 258–76, 293 baton rounds 206, 222–3 Battle of the Bogside 178 Belfast, RUC in 185–6 Belfast Agreement (1998) 11, 16, 45, 148–52, 160–3, 166, 258, 264–8 Bew, P. 179 Beyond the religious divide (NUPRG) 95–6 Birmingham Six 168 Bishop, Patrick 39 “Black and Tans” 229 Blair, Tony 148–9, 151, 214, 269 blast mines 108 Bloody Friday 38–9 Bloody Sunday 179, 216, 235, 294 bombing incidents 202–4 ‘bombs in a car’ 111–12 booby-trap switches 106–7 Boulton, D. 90 Bowyer-Bell, J. 194, 230, 235, 242 Brewer, J. 177, 180, 182 Brighton bombings (1984) 39, 87, 147 British and Irish Communist Organisation (BICO) 55 British Army: 14 Intelligence and Security Company 115; Air Reaction Force (ARF) 120; campaign overview 199–212; counter-bomber campaign 114–23; development of strategic framework 259–62; Force Research Unit (FRU) 114; lessons learned 212–23; Military Doctrine 262; Mobile Reconnaissance Force (MRF) 114–15; organisation of 199–200; political ends 262–6; Quick Reaction Force (QRF) 120; Reconnaissance Intelligence Centre (RIC) 116; response to terrorism 137–54; role after Belfast Agreement 258–76; Special Air Service (SAS) 115; strategic ends 266–72; strategic means 272–5; strategic understanding of role of 275–6; twilight of a forgotten army 258–9

Index 303 British government: appeasement (1998–2004) 150–2; as audience for terrorism 37, 45; containment (1972–1992) 142–7; and European Court of Human Rights 169–71; military strategy 144–5; minimalist role of 18–21; response (1969–1972) 138–41; settlement (1992–1998) 147–50; special relationship with US 248, 249 Britishness 25–6 broadcasting ban 239 Brooke/Mayhew talks 142 Bruce, Steve 45, 46, 49, 92–3, 181, 194 Bryan, D. 195 building protection 121–3, 188 Bush, George W. 254 business targets 65 Cahill, Joe 161 Callaghan, James 139, 140, 199 Cameron Commission 178 campaign overview, military 199–212 Campbell, C. 179 Canary Wharf bombing 114 car bombs 111–14, 117–18, 204, 285 car boot disruptors 118 Carrington, Lord 140 Carroll, Adrian 167 Catholics: education 59; emancipation 22; overview 10–14; theology 17 ceasefires 239–42; (1975) 39, 83–4; (1994) 42–3, 88, 148–9; influence of IrishAmericans/US government 250–5 Chalk, Peter 292 charitable fundraising, controls on 133 Civil Authorities (Special Powers) Acts (Northern Ireland) 1922–1943 159 civil rights movement 28, 60–1, 231 class antagonisms 14 classical social theory 18 Claxton, Connor 81 claymore directional mines 107–8 Clinton, Bill 251–2, 253–4 clockwork time-delay mechanisms 106 close observation platoons (COPs) 208 Cold War 248 Collins, Michael 228–30 command-wire IED (CWIED) 104 commercial explosives 103 Committee on the Administration of Justice (CAJ) 171–2 Common Sense (ULDP) 96 community, role of 58–9 community work 65 comparative perspective, counter-terrorism 296–7 Confederation of British Industry (CBI) 130–1

confidence-building measures 264–5, 293 Connolly, I. 179 Connolly, Niall 81 consent principle 142, 264, 267–8 Constitution 142–3, 165 containment: (1972–1992) 142–7; ongoing 265–6 context, criticality of 281–3 Continuity IRA (CIRA) 44, 56, 69, 254, 265–6, 271, 284–5 Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms 169 Coogan, T.P. 231, 232 Cook Report 286 Council for British Industry 128 counter-bomber campaign 114–23 counterfeiting 131–2 counter-terrorism: requirement for multidisciplinary and comparative perspective 296–7; in rural settings 186–9; in urban contexts 182–6 counter-terrorist search (CTS) 118–19 Craig, William 91 Crawford, Colin 47 criminal activities 66–7, 128–36, 193, 271, 286 Criminal Assets Bureau 136 Criminal Justice (Terrorism and Conspiracy) Act (1998) 163 Criminal Justice (Terrorist Offences) Bill (2002) 166 criminal justice model 144–5 Criminal Procedure Act (Northern Ireland) 1922 159–60 criminalisation principle 149–50 culture, economic role of 25 Cusack, J. 95 de Valera, Eamonn 159, 228–30 deaths 157–8, 203 decommissioning 43, 73–4, 149–52, 254–5, 267–9, 274 DeLorean 145–6 democracies 212–13 Democratic Unionist Party (DUP) 11, 90 demonisation 72 deterrence 274–5 detonators 103–4 Devenport, M. 86 Dickson, Prof. Brice 171–2 Dingley, James 1–8, 10–30, 54–75, 187, 194, 281, 282, 284, 285, 288, 289, 290, 295 Diplock courts 82, 162, 180 Direct Action Against Drugs 65, 282 direct rule (1972) 19, 38, 62, 142, 160–2 dirty protests 65–6, 84 discrimination 27–9, 146 District Policing Partnerships 90

304

Index

Dixon, Paul 251 Donaldson, Donald 191 Downing Street Declaration (1994) 148, 249 Drake, C.J.M. 231, 236 drug trafficking 132 dual-track strategy 42, 86–90 Dublin Easter Rising (1916) 36–7 earthwork defences 122 Easter Rising 228 economy 12, 22–5, 145–6, 236 education 59 Eire Nua project 82 electrical firing switches 104–7 electronic surveillance 190–1 Ellison, G. 177, 180 Emergency Powers Act (1976) 165, 237 employment 27–8, 145–6 endgame 211–12 Engineering Department, PIRA 103 Enlightenment philosophy 18 Enniskillen bombings 64 EOD projectors 117 escalation: 1969–1972 138–41; strategy 40 ethnic cleansing 64–5 ethnic nationalism 12–13, 17–18, 58–60 European Convention on Human Rights 158 European Court of Human Rights (EctHR) 158, 169–71 European Parliament 87 European Union, influence of 255 Explosive Ordnance Explosive (EOD) disposal teams 116–17 explosives 103–4, 112 extortion 130–1, 133–4 Fair Employment Act (1989) 146 Fair Employment Agency 146 Fay, M.-T. 236 Federation of Small Businesses 128, 130, 133 Fenian movement 228, 247 Ferris, Martin 81 ‘Fianna Fail’ 159, 230 finances, IRA 193, 248–9, 251–2 firing switches 104–7 Fitzgerald, Garret 250 Fitzgerald, Ken 80–1 Flags and Emblems (Display) Act (Northern Ireland) 1954 160 force, use of 145, 222–3 Force Research Unit (FRU) 114 Forrest, James J.F. 280–98 fortified posts 221 Foster, Roy 246 Freedman, Lawrence 262 Friends of Ireland Group (FOI) 251 Garnett, John 274

Gibraltar shootings 67 Gibson, Ken 92 Gillespie, G. 179 Gladstone, W.E. 247 Glover, Brig. James 205, 213–14 Good Friday Agreement (1998) 240, 254 Goulding, Cathal 231, 232 Government of Ireland Act (1920) 158–9, 160, 230, 240, 247 ‘Green Book’ 210, 237 grievance 214, 282 Guildford Four 167–8, 169 H Block campaign 96 Hamas 289–90 Hamden, T. 187 Healey, Denis 139 Heath, Edward 251 Hegarty, Angela 171 Herron, Tommy 93–4, 134 historical background 21–9; 1920s to 1960s 158–60; 1968–1972 160; 1972– 160–2 Holland, Mary 87 Holmes, Jennifer 292 Holy Cross dispute 172 home rule 21, 61–2, 150, 159 Home Rule League 247 homemade explosives 103–4, 204–5 Horgan, J. 81 Hughes, Brendan 40, 146–7 human intelligence (HUMINT) 114–16, 191 human rights community 171–2 Hume, John 67–8, 249, 251, 252–3 hunger strikes 65–6, 84–6, 96, 145, 235–6 Hunt Report 178 Hunter, Maggie 269, 271–2, 275 ideology and violence 59, 282 illegal drinking clubs 133–4, 135 imagery intelligence (IMINT) 116 impartiality 221–2 improvised anti-armour grenades (IAAGs) 120 improvised explosive device disposal (IEDD) 116–18 improvised explosive devices (IEDs) 204–5, 287; countering 114–23 Incident Control Points (ICPs) 184 Independent Monitoring Commission (IMC) 43, 44–5 Independent Unionist group 96 industrialisation 13, 22–4 infantrymen, perspective of 206–9 informers 69–71, 114, 189–94 instability, elimination of sources of 270–2 intelligence 69–71, 114–16, 189–94, 269, 293–4; lessons learned 219–20; ‘supergrass system’ 145

Index 305 international influence: European Union 255; Irish America 246–8, 250–5, 292; US governments 248–55 international opinion 67–8, 86 internment without trial 38, 141, 163, 179, 216, 293 Irish-American: influence 246–8, 250–5; support 67–8, 86 Irish Famine 246 Irish Free State 159 Irish Land Act (1870) 247 Irish National Liberation Army (INLA) 43–4, 55–6 Irish Northern Aid Committee (NORAID) 67, 251 Irish Parliament, dissolving of (1800) 22 Irish People’s Liberation Organisation (IPLO) 44 Irish Republic: bomb-making in 103; bombings in 57; and Britishness 25–6; as Celtic Tiger 12; economy 24; growth of the PIRA 235–9; history of 227–44; home rule 159; legislation 165–7; new vision 239–42; Republican political campaign in 72–4 Irish Republican Army (IRA) see Provisional IRA (PIRA) Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB) 228 Irish Republican Socialist Party 43 Irish Volunteers 228 Irwin, Sir Alistair 198–224, 258–9, 267, 273 Jackson, Brian 286 Jarman, N. 195 justice, miscarriages of 167–9 Kahn, Herman 261–2 Keenan, Brian 267 Keeping the peace 212 Kennedy-Pipe, C. 228–9 Kerr, Ian 262, 270–1, 275 key lessons 3–5 kidnapping 130 King Tom 146 Kingsley, P. 178 Labour Party 58 landmines 107–8 Latimer, Neil 167 launching devices, mortars 110–11 law, rule of 216–18 learning organisations, terrorist groups as 286–7 legal response 157–73 Legislation against terrorism (1998) 164 ‘legitimate targets’ 64–5 lessons learned 212–23 lessons unlearned 242–4

Levitt, Matt 290 Libya, arms from 40, 87 Liddell-Hart, Basil 260, 262 local employment networks 27–8 ‘long war’ doctrine 39–40, 63, 160–1, 210 Loughgall ambush 67 Loyalist Volunteer Force (LVF) 48, 49 Loyalists: overview 10–14, 45–9; political fronts 90–6; strategy/tactics 56–8 Lynch, Jack 231 M16 Armalite 202–3 McCabe, Jerry 238 McCaughey, Martin 80 McFarlane, K. 232–4 McGarry, J. 177 McGartland, M. 192 McGloin, J. 178 McGuinness, Martin 39, 81, 88, 212, 235, 252 McKittrick, David 157 McLogan, Patrick 80 McMichael, John 95, 96 MacStiofáin, Séan 82, 232 Magee, K. 177, 182 Maguire, Frank 84 Maguire Seven 168, 169 Mahoney, Mike 198–224 mainland Britain, bombings/public opinion in 69–70 Major, John 147, 161, 249 Mallie, Eamon 39 Mansbergh, M. 233 Mapstone, R. 180 Marques, P. 183, 184 martyrs, creation of 70–1 Marxists 11–12, 17 Maskey, Alex 266 Mason, Roy 144 Maudling, Reginald 215 Mayhew, Sir Patrick 142, 148, 249 Mead Earle, Edward 262 MI5 189–90 Middle East 8 military force, exercise of 274–5 military response: campaign overview 199–212; lessons learned 212–23 military solutions, absence of 213–14 military strategy 144–5 minimum force 141, 145, 222–3 Mitchell, ‘Billy’ 91 Mitchell, George 254 Mitchell, Wilfred 133 MK mortars 109–10, 205 mobile mounted patrols 120, 183 Mobile Reconnaissance Force (MRF) 114–15 Moloney, E. 180 money laundering 133 Morgan, Austen 157–73

306

Index

Morrison, Bruce 253 Morrison, Danny 41–2, 87 mortar base plate patrols (MBPs) 120 mortars 108–11, 122–3, 187–8 Mowlam, Mo 149 Moxon-Browne, Edward 229–30, 231 Mulcahy, A. 177, 237, 238 multidisciplinary perspective, counter-terrorism 296–7 Murphy, Lenny 47–8, 145 Murphy, Paul 269 Murtagh, B. 181 Nationalist Party 11 Nationalists, overview 10–14 Neave, Airey 44, 56 Neumann, Peter R. 35–50, 137–54, 290, 294–5 New Ulster Political Research Group 48, 95, 96 Newry RUC station 205 ‘no go’ areas 39, 201 Noonan, Michael 81 Normalisation – the Army’s vision of its future in Northern Ireland 271 Northern Ireland (Emergency Provisions) Acts 161–2, 180 Northern Ireland Civil Rights Bureau 265 Northern Ireland Human Rights Commission (NIHRC) 171–2 Northern Ireland Training and Advisory Team (NITAT) 209–10 O’Bradaigh, Ruairi 38, 41, 80, 87 O’Brien, B. 193 O’Brien J. 179 O’Doherty, Malachi 94 O’Leary, B. 177 O’Muilleoir, Martin 81 O’Neill, Terence 26–7, 28, 61, 78, 90, 97 observation posts (OPs) 208 Offences Against the State Acts 165–7, 230 Olonso, Rogelio 293 Omagh bombings 44, 56, 163, 270, 285 Operation BANNER 198, 199–212 operational security 283–4 Orange Order 13, 43, 71–2, 86 Orde, Sir Hugh 128, 129, 135 organisational learning 286–7 Organised Crime Task Force 135, 271 Page, Michael 273 Paisley, Ian 90, 91 ‘pan-Nationalist front’ 42, 67–8 paramilitary forces: containment of 268–70; exploitation of vulnerabilities 283–6 partition: (1920) 21, 25; Republican desire for 60

patrolling 119–21, 183–4, 186, 207–8, 293 Patterson, Henry 43, 83 peace objective 262–3 peace process 239–42; influence of EU 255; influence of Irish-Americans/US government 250–5 peasant–proprietor economy 24 Penal Laws 22 perception, importance of 215–16 perimeter security measures 108–9 permanent vehicle checkpoints (PVCPs) 113, 121 players 10–14, 55–8 police, primacy of 144, 179–80, 218–19 Police and Criminal Evidence (PACE) Act (1984) 167 Police Service of Northern Ireland 89–90, 128, 129–30, 132; founding of 266; Organised Crime Task Force 135; Serious and Organised Crime Agency 135 policing and territoriality 180–2 political engagement: Loyalists 48–9; Republicans 40–2, 64–8, 85–90 political fronts 79–80; IRA 80–90; Loyalists 90–6 political funds 66–7 political goals, British Army 261–6 political parties 10–14 political strategies: British government 142–4; terrorists 288–91 political violence 157–8 political wings 289–91 Pollack, A. 180 Portloaise Prison 238–9 post-modernity 15–16 power-sharing governance 91, 249, 264–5 preference divergence 284–5 Presbyterianism 13, 17, 22 Prevention of Terrorism (Temporary Provisions) Act (1989) 171 Prevention of Terrorism Act (1974) 82 Prior, James 86 prisoners 238–9; release of 149–50; Special Category status 144–5; see also internment without trial Progressive Unionist Party (PUP) 48–9, 79, 93, 96 propaganda 215–16, 239 proportionate action 220–1 pro-state terrorism 45–6, 48–9 Protestant Church 247 Protestants: overview 10–14; in Ulster 21–2 Provisional IRA (PIRA): active service units (ASUs) 67, 69, 183, 210; Army Council 80–1, 88; breaking points 228–35; car bombs 111–14; decision to end armed struggle 211–12; defining terrorism of 5–8; emergence of 37–8; Engineering

Index 307 Department 103; finances 193, 248–9, 251–2; growth of 235–9; history of 227–44; as learning organisation 286–7; legitimacy of 39–40; military challenges 200–2; origins of 227–8; overview 10–14; rise of 36–45; and Sinn Féin 80–1; strategic adaptability 210–11; strategies and tactics 58–60; technical adaptability 202–6; termination as paramilitary force 268–70; transformation of 42–3; vulnerabilities of 283–6; world view 60–72 ‘proxy’ bombing 112, 122 psychological operations 216–17, 293 public order 271 Public Order Act (Northern Ireland) 1951 160 punishment beatings/shootings 265 Quick Reaction Force (QRF) 120 racketeering 128–36 radio-controlled IED (RCIED) 104–5 rapid access and disruption equipment (RADE) 118 Reagan, Ronald 249 Real IRA (RIRA) 44–5, 56, 69, 240, 254, 265–6, 284–5 reassurance 274 Reconnaissance Intelligence Centre (RIC) 116 Red Army Faction 291 Rees, Merlin 84, 143 Reid, John 96 religious commitment/identity 13–14 religious patronage 27–8 remote IEDD weapons systems 117 render-safe-procedures (RSPs) 117 Republicans: as audience for terrorism 45–6; commitment to anti-state policies 20; overview 10–14, 36–45; political campaign in Irish Republic 72–4; political engagement 40–2, 64–8, 85–90; strategy/tactics 54–6, 58–60 research 16–17 residential tours 206–7 revisionism 15–16 Revolutionary Armed Forces of Columbia (FARC) 269 Reynolds, Albert 249, 253 Richards, Anthony 78–97, 288 roadblocks 120–1 roadside bombs 107–8 Roberts, Glyn 128 Robertson, George 212 rocket-propelled grenades (RPGs) 286 ‘rolling devolution’ 86 Romantic philosophy 18, 59

Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC) 61, 200: attacks on 205; counter-terrorism in rural settings 186–9; counter-terrorism in urban contexts 182–6; disarming of 139; overview 177–80; public perceptions of 266; Special Branch 141, 189–94, 294; territoriality and policing 180–2 Royal Ulster Constabulary Reserve (RUCR) 179–80 rule of law 216–18 rural counter-terrorism 186–9 Ryder, Chris 128–36, 177, 189, 195, 196 Sands, Bobby 41, 66, 78, 84–5, 97, 145 Scarman Tribunal 178 Schelling, Thomas 273, 274 Scott, Nicholas 143 searches 208–9 Second World War 26, 159, 230, 248 sectarian riots 23, 60–1, 140, 178–9 sectarianism 139–40 Security (Northern Ireland) Act (2007) 164 security arrangements, normalisation of 267–8 security forces: success of 63, 67, 69–71; and terrorist weapons/technology 102–24 Serious and Organised Crime Agency 135, 136 settlement (1992–1998) 147–50 ‘Shankhill Butchers’ 47–8, 145 Sharrock, D. 86 Shirlow, P. 181 Shoot to kill 222 shooting incidents 202–4 Silke, Andrew 80, 82, 289 Sinn Féin: Civil Administration Officers (CAOs) 80; in double-track strategy 86–90; emergence of 64, 235–7; evolution of 82–4; ideology/structure 289; importance of 66; incident centres 83–4; integration of 148–9; legalisation of 143; Sinn Féin Advice Centres 65, 80 overview 11, 80–1; successes of 240–4 Smith, M.L.R. 38, 236, 258–76, 293 Smith, Val 128 smuggling 129, 130 Smyth, J. 177, 180 Smyth, M. 236 Smyth, Nigel 128, 130–1 sniping 187 Social Democratic and Labour Party (SDLP) 11, 13, 58, 142 social policy 12, 26–7, 145–6 social security rights 282 social services 288–90 socialism 12, 58 Southern, Neil 177–96 Special Air Service (SAS) 115

308

Index

Special Branch 189–94 Special Criminal Court 237–8 Spence, Gusty 47, 91, 93, 95 splinter groups 285 ‘stand off’ zones 122–3 state legitimacy, targeting 291–2 Stevens inquiry 47 strategic adaptability, PIRA 210–11 strategic goals, British Army 266–72 strategic lessons 213–19 strategic means, British Army 272–5 strategies, PIRA 58–60 strikes 91–2, 95, 97 Sunningdale Agreement 91–2, 142 ‘supergrass system’ 145 surveillance 69–71, 114–16, 189–94 tactical control 284–5 tactical lessons 219–23 tactics, PIRA 58–60 target hardening 121–3 targeting, scope of 205 tax avoidance 129, 132–3 Taylor, M. 81, 95 Taylor, Peter 80 technical adaptability 202–6 territoriality and policing 180–2 terrorism: addressing political strategies of 288–91; defining 5–8; statistics 201–4 Terrorism (Northern Ireland) Act (2006) 164 Terrorism Act (2000) 164–5 terrorist groups: inadvertent enabling of success for 291–6; as learning organisations 286–7; vulnerabilities of 283–6 Thatcher, Margaret 146, 249, 250 Thomas, Quentin 149 threat containment 215 tilt-switches 107 time-delay firing switches 105–6, 113 timer and power units (TPUs) 106 ‘tit for tat’ killings 47 Tone, Wolfe 228 Toom, Donald 136 totalitarian states 212–13 training, military 209–10 Trimble, David 268, 269 troop levels 200 ‘troops out’ movement 62–3 ‘troubles’: analysing 14–18; breaking points 228–35; origins of 227–8 TUAS strategy 42–3, 68–9 Tuzo, Harry 141 Tyrie, Andy 95 Ulster, industrialisation of 13, 22–4

Ulster Community Action Group (UCAG) 95–6 Ulster Defence Association (UDA) 46–7, 48, 49, 79, 93, 94–6 Ulster Defence Regiment (UDR) 139, 209 Ulster Democratic Party (UDP) 48–9, 79, 93–4, 96 Ulster Freedom Fighters (UFF) 47 Ulster Loyalist Front 91 Ulster Special Constabulary 139 Ulster Unionist Party (UUP) 10–11, 21–2, 142, 148 Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) 46–8, 49, 79, 90–1, 93, 94, 145, 271 Ulster Workers’ Council 91–2, 97 ‘Ulsterisation’ policy 179–80, 181, 190 unattended ground sensors (UGSs) 115–16 under-vehicle booby traps (UVBTs) 107 Unionist Party 13, 231 Unionists 10–14 United Irishmen 228 United Ulster Unionist Coalition (UUUC) 91 Urban, Mark 179, 194 urban counter-terrorism 182–6 urban culture 23–4 urban patrolling 120 US: government influence 248–55; IrishAmerican influence/support 67–8, 86, 246–8, 250–5 vehicle borne IEDs (VBIEDs) 111–14 vehicle checkpoints (VCPs) 120–1, 188–9 Vietcong 40 vigilantism 82 Volunteer Political Party 90–1, 92 von Clausewitz, Carl 259–61, 288 war, means–end relationship 260–3 war on terrorism 254–5 Ward, Judith 167 weapons 102–14; decommissioning 43, 73–4, 149–52, 254–5, 267–9, 274; development/manufacturing 287; procurement 202–4, 248–9, 251–2 Weber, Max 7 Weitzer, R. 177, 178 welfare rights 282 welfare state 26–7 Whitelaw, William 84, 91, 143 Whyte, J. 180 Wilkinson, Paul 245–56, 292 Wilson, Harold 92 Workers Party 55 world view, PIRA 60–72 Wright, Billy 44 Yellow Card 141